Last Friday April 5 was a good day for South African jazz. Not only did it see the first two releases from the new Africarise label (https://mg.co.za/friday/2024-04-06-africarise-sa-jazz-to-the-globe/), but also the first truly archival release from a more venerable one, As-Shams.
Its not the first time As-Shams has dug into its archival tape crates. But those earlier outings have re-released existing albums that, under apartheid-era, independent label conditions, never received the profile their quality merited.
But African Day (https://as-shams.bandcamp.com/album/african-day) is one you’ve never, ever heard before unless you worked at the label or the Satbel Studios back in 1976.
At the album’s core is a quartet led by pianist Dr (he received his honorary degree from UCT late last year) Tete Mbambisa, with tenorist Duku Makasi, bassist Sipho Gumede and drummer Gilbert Matthews. On the first five tracks, they’re joined by Basil Manenberg Coetzee on tenor and flute and Barney Rachabane on alto; on the subsequent four by trumpeter Dennis Mpale. (A trumpet is also clearly audible in some of the earlier horn choruses, and trading bars on Mr Mecca. But as is the way with ancient tapes, across two sessions – the second tape of which was actually un-annotated – it may not have been noted anywhere and thus hard to credit accurately.)
The album’s a kind of sonic bridge between the 1969 Soul Jazzmen quartet partnership between Mbambisa and Makasi on Inhlupeko, (https://matsulimusic.bandcamp.com/album/inhlupeko-distress ), the much larger horn line-up around Makasi on Tete’s Big Sound, (https://madaboutrecordslabel.bandcamp.com/album/tete-mbambisa-tetes-big-sound ) – also recorded in 1976 – and the Mbambisa/Coetzee partnership on the 1979 Did You Tell Your Mother? (https://eatingstanding.bandcamp.com/album/did-you-tell-your-mother)
It also reflects musical ideas that Mbambisa had been considering at least since Inhlupeko, as he told me when I interviewed him for the liner notes of that album. In particular, he’d felt old Room at The Top playing partner Mpale’s horn didn’t have the right sound for his concept of Inhlupeko, but “I had a place for that on another recording…”
All the compositions are Mbambisa’s – including, of course, his classic, Umsenge – apart from a lush cover arrangement of Mackay Davashe’s Khumbula Jane. Consistent with As Shams’ mission at the time to showcase all facets of Black creativity, there’s an original, cover portrait of Mbambisa by Zulu Bidi, who would later play bass on Did You Tell Your Mother.
The gorgeous, 17-minute title track gives the horns tons of room to stretch out and definitely announces Rachabane, then just 30, as a formidable player. On the sprightly label tribute Koh-i-noor (label boss Rashid Vally’s father’s general store: As-Sham’s first home), there’s a rare extended flute solo from Coetzee.
Throughout, as always, we have more evidence of Gumede’s skill and intelligence as a bass player. The more of these archival recordings that emerge, the clearer it becomes that there’s an important bass book waiting to be written about him.
Part of Mbambisa’s power as a musician has always been the astuteness and insight of his arranging. His own piano solos are beautifully conceived, but unshowy and perfectly judged to let the shape and spirit of each composition emerge. These tracks are about the music, not any individual player – including the leader. Listen to his piano, though – for example, his solos on Siviwe, Mr Mecca and the closing, untitled, track – and you’ll hear a true original: a sharp modernist whose roots nevertheless couldn’t be anywhere else but here.
That said, it’s also wonderful to have more of Makasi now out on record. When people talk about historic South African saxophonists, it’s often Kippie Moeketsi’s name that (not unreasonably) pops up first. But Makasi is just simply a gorgeous player: fluent, warm, gentle and powerfully soulful. That’s all on display in these ten tracks.
Whenever a release from the 1970s emerges, it adds more to our understanding of the 1970s jazz scene here. Far from a decade that was “empty” or “silent” – as music writing focused on the achievements of South Africans based overseas tends to suggest – a rich ecosystem of original music flourished. Apartheid may have been attempting to restrict and shut off creative spaces, but by zig-zagging the country (the players on this album hail from Johannesburg, KZN, and the Eastern and Western Capes) and using the grassroots networks created by jazz-appreciating communities and individuals, music was still made. It’s wonderful that it’s now – at last! – seeing the light of the African day.
sisgwenjazz 