Kujenga’s In The Wake: a second album that surpasses a promising start

I completely missed the 2019 release of Cape Town collective Kujenga’s debut album, Nationality. (https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=4aEZwlQBEWg&list=OLAK5uy_kRe1SLktM-wilODoUmzU57DCc-DMzK4ps). Listening to it now, I realise that even had I heard it at that time, it probably wouldn’t have prepared me fully for their second release, In the Wake, https://kujenga.bandcamp.com/album/in-the-wake ,which launched on Sharpeville Day last month.

In 2019, the outfit was smaller – no horns – helmed by Milnerton-born bassist Zwide Ndwandwe, with most compositions by his twin brother, Olwethu and the rest of the band largely friends and neighbours.  For their story back then, see https://www.okayafrica.com/kujenga-south-african-jazz/

Nationality is well worth your ears, even now: everybody on board is a talented musician, and there’s particular strength in having such a stylistically flexible guitarist as Thane Smith, who’s clearly listened to and learned from everything from rock to Afrobeat. The compositions had an appealing, catchy lyricism. Still, it was a debut album, and – like most debuts – thus a showcase for a bit of everything, from the militant hymning of the Qhawekazi Prelude to the slightly sappy, slightly too Americanised, Rn’B of Lost With You, the edgier, more philosophical WeWe and the urgent syncopations of Let the People Sing. With a start like that, the band could have gone in a few different future directions, and if I’d heard it then I’d have filed it under “Interesting – see what they do next”.

In the Wake, plus lots of live gigging (including with mentors The Brother Moves On) is what they did next. It’s way more than just interesting.

Kujenga

The line-up is now the Ndwandwe brothers, Smith, and Skhumbuzo Qamata on drums plus brass and reeds: trumpeter Bonga Mosola, trombonist Tamsyn Freeks, and Matthew Rightford on tenor sax, with some percussion from Jerome Silengile and Riley van der Merwe.

That more diverse sonic palette with reed and brass shows off interesting arrangements  – most compositions this time are from Zwide – far better than a smaller group could. Of the ten tracks, four are in the 8-10-minute range, with space for passages of contrasting texture and mood, and growth and development from a simply stated head to a satisfying resolution.

That matters, because Kujenga (the name means ‘build’ in KiSwahili and signals the outfit’s commitment to pan-Africanism) has a very clear agenda here: to reflect on the pandemic and the post-pandemic disasters threatening humanity and to propose political solutions. (That word ‘political’ has a bad rep – but politics is much more – and more important – than waving the flag of some party or other every five years.) The way the compositions resolve often enacts a collective coming together to overcome crises.

One thing that struck me when I heard Nationality was the way some tracks evoked the feel of the South African jazz of the Bheki Mseleku /Moses Taiwa Molelekwa era: effortlessly bridging the divide between popular and conscious musics. Partly that was the idiomatic impact of many compositions originated by a pianist – but, as Zwide told Charles Leonard, (https://mg.co.za/article/2023-11-25-wake-up-and-hear-the-music/ ) such music was also what the brothers grew up hearing.

In The Wake draws on that context without feeling retro. There’s impressive playing from everybody, more knockout solos than I can list (listen to Freeks on Lesedi), but essentially it’s a wordless ensemble album, where mood, empathy and working together shape the message and the sound. Zwide has told several interviewers how conscious he is of the responsibility – and risks – of being “leader”. He much prefers the title “facilitator” and, on this showing, that approach generates the right kind of results.

Not all the new jazz being created in Cape Town comes out of the UCT College of Music (Zwide is a CPUT graduate; not even in music) and Kujenga’s highly distinctive voice usefully reminds us of the multiple sources (historic, national and international) of the city’s sonic landscape.

From feedback online, it’s clear that Lesedi is rapidly becoming a listener favourite: a militant opening, an appealing, soulful melody and delicious solos. For me, Abaphantsi with its collective movement towards the light is irresistibly stirring, and my one regret is that Hymn for Hani isn’t part of this collection. But In the Wake isn’t really an album of discrete tracks. All its elements fit together and flow seamlessly to carry the vision of its makers. I won’t need reminders to look out for Kujenga’s third one.