NO GLOBE
Welcome to No Globe first official publication. We got together some really exciting pieces for you, with a focus on South Africa. Think music, dance, photography, community centres and fashion. We hope you enjoy it. If you fancy getting involved with our next one, or with anything we do, then get in touch! No Globe Gang noglobeclub.blogspot.co.uk noglobeclub@gmail.com
Imagine if Lynx came up with a deodorant called ‘Europe’, or Baaba Maal collected a bunch of 90s Britpop drop-outs together to try and ‘explore the fierce authentic sounds of traditional London lad rock’. Would that unsettle you? Perhaps not. If ‘Africa’ to me was originally a pungent sneeze-inducing musk confined to the greasy changing rooms of my PE-avoiding youth, or that bit below Italy, it’s become something quite different. I’m thankful for this. And, as some make their own discovery through a spicy lamb curry, or a Malcolm X speech, or a fabric, or a film, I made mine in a tiny basement of a cafe in Bradford, sharing songs with a new friend from Cape Town. Discovery shouldn’t imply a preempted blankness, the moon was always there before any ‘small step’. I think it’s possible to ‘discover’ without that necessitating any ‘rule of first occupant’, any sudden ownership, appropriation, cultural tourism or racist terrorism. Otherwise we can condemn ‘Discovery’ to that glorious concept-bin in the sky, with ‘World Music’, ‘Authenticity’, ‘The Nation’ and other such morose fantasies, and we can all sit in our own little villages listening to nothing but ‘our’ own little sounds, clutching the ‘familiar’ and fetishising the ‘exotic’. This Zine is about attempting to enjoy music from all over the world in ways that don’t demean, patronise or decimate. A bunch of guys in suits sat round one Monday morning in 1987 and decided that ‘World Music’ was a useful marketing term. It seems to us, No Globe, that we now owe it to the world they delineated to offer some alternatives for international communication. We’re all far
more connected, but that doesn’t necessarily mean communication. Just look at Kony 2012. For the first time ever kids on laptops in Peru, Finland, Columbia, Ghana, Wales, Wherever; are making and swapping music, sometimes calling it ‘Global Bass’, rather than being externally labelled ‘Global Bass’. This is a big difference. Others are refusing to take sides based on the Equator, or to be defined in terms of their adherence to some notion of ‘traditional’ music in their respective patch of earth. For six months now No Globe has thrown parties where we play music with a global remit. This obviously throws up issues. That’s half of the point. The other half is that we begin to discover, that bloody word once more, ways of thinking and dancing and singing and enjoying ideas we’re all too often told to relegate as ‘foreign’, or, worse, ‘primitive’. Because this stuff is worth discovering, as long as we don’t start strutting around like Columbus. Because perhaps those guys in 1987 meant well, and they achieved some fairly admirable things, but the biggest faults of ‘World Music’ have come from its commercialism. You can’t sell Africa. Or whatever you create to try is going to raise a whole load of problems. But most people don’t look at the world as a series of fungible, costassessed goods. It’s by rejecting such a view that we find ways of seeing and hearing that stick with us, like the lingering stench of that nasty deodorant, but hopefully with less sneezing. Enjoy, NO GLOBE x
No Globe in conversation with South African photographer Chris Saunders Chris is based in Johannesburg. He captures the vitality and creativity of South African street culture. His bold, buzzing shots fizzle with vibrancy and energy. The shots in this Zine are all Chris’ work, so you can see for yourself how exciting it is. So Chris, what got you started with photography?
When I think back, even at 15 I was thinking quite seriously about it, I was like a little grown up as a kid. Later, when I studied photography for a year, I realised your either 100% in or its not going to work. I started taking shot of musicians, because it was an accessible genre. And it’s funny, because after 7 years of trying to be a fashion and career photographer, I have come full circle back to culture and music. What do you hope to communicate with your photographs?
I think photography is very personal thing. Growing up as a white middle class South African, I was never educated into the culture of my country. When I was 10 years old, apartheid ended, but I remained unexposed to lifestyles other than my own. Photography is a reason to have a conversation with people. Its a reason to discover, and to be exposed to new music and cultures. From a professional perspective, I believe you can tell a lot about people in a place by documenting their social culture- music, dance. Being on the African sub continent, the focus in photography is often sociopolitical. I think dance and music are a really important neglected elements of our society. you get treated differently in african countries as a white person, race is still a big deal. People grow up in new, self styled
segregation. In Johannesburg, kids grow up behind walls. Wealthy nouveau-riche people live in security estates. They are scared of crime. They don’t know anything about there own culture, they are afraid of the outside world. Growing up in Joburg, the threatening aspects of life are there, but not out of proportion with anywhere else. You have to be streetwise. Music brings people together. Generally, black guys would rather listen to house, kwaito and hip hop. White crowds like electro, rock. Obviously there are cross overs. So a lot of race relations happen through music. How come you work as a fashion and documentary photographer?
I really enjoy both. Im quite hyperactive, I can’t focus all my energy into one form. I always want to try everything, Its about getting the correct balance between working and then being able to shoot what I want. I established myself as a career photographer, which enabled me to do more documentary stuff. Now I get asked to do documentary stuff all around the world. What was it like to work with Spoek Mathambo?
It was cool. He is a super intelligent, driven dude. Once he has an idea in his head he will stick to it untill is done. He used to throw parties in a bowling alley, I shot something at one of those but it didn’t work out so well. Then we got rained off a shoot by a thunder storm, six months later we managed to pull it together. He is quite and thoughtful and very professional.
‘I hate being labelled ‘World Music’, It’s Gross’ Fifteen Minutes With Spoek Mathambo BIO. Name: Nthato Mogkata. Age: 26. From: Johannesburg, SA I remember the first time I ever heard the name ‘Spoek’ was on a track called ‘Visitor’, this must have been like, 7 years ago? I’m guessing you remember it? Yeah of course, visitor, that was a long time ago! Like maybe even 8 or 9 years. You sang about being a ‘visitor from the future’ and ever since then I’ve always seen your name prefixed with ‘futurist’ or ‘afro-futurism’, how do feel about the term? Well its kind of funny isn’t it really? Futurist to me is that lame kind of 1950’s science fiction, which I totally loved when I was younger, but seems to be basically just a reflection of the present with more jetpacks. It’s quite a nice aesthetic, the old school sci-fi with its silver boots, but that’s not something I’m particularly concerned with. For me, it’s all about progressive music from the now. So did the future you sung about look anything like this, did you always intend to have music so central to your life? Actually around that time I’d just dropped out of Med School, I was training to become a doctor. I didn’t plan on music becoming so central to my life, it was something I’d always done for fun. I mean it was always there; me and my cousin used to rap together from when we were 10. Your cover of Joy Division and
accompanying video caused quite a stir, how did it come about? Most people might be cautious of covering such a revered band. Well firstly, I fully believe that nothing is sacred. I love Joy Division, but they are not off limits. There’s obviously been a lot of positive reaction to that tune but there has also been some really shitty racist stuff too, especially on the youtube page. People being like ‘these people’ shouldn’t be doing this. They should stick to their hiphop. These people. It’s rubbish. But I see a really interesting aesthetic and musical link between that postpunk stuff and a lot of the South African dance scene I come from. There’s a similar tension, a bigger kind of sadness too it. It is party music but its not that Euro-dance cheese you know, its dark. You seem to share something of their darkness in lyrical imagery – It seems a lot of UK based commentators have picked up on this in contrast to the supposedly colourful, happy African clichés were often fed – did this surprise you? Not really, a lot of people have a lot of ignorance and prejudice. Plus, they probably dont understand the lyrics they think are so happy – there are thousands of languages in Africa – literally thousands. There’s obviously all kinds of lyrics and stories being told. I mean personally, I’ve done a lot of party tunes too, positive tunes, it is a mixture. That’s a problem with this ‘world music’ tag, I hate being labelled as ‘world music’, it is just gross. It brings so many bad preconceptions. 2010’s Mshini Wam was another big moment for you, it seemed to me you were taking quite a wry, quipping approach to conventional notions of hip-hop and rap in that album. Does that sound fair?
Well actually it wasn’t trying to be funny at all. I find it is pathetic the way that people hold on to this kind of myth of a golden era of hip-hop and everything that is wrapped up with that. I was trying to do something different. I enjoy rapping, but I don’t want to be tied to this stuff. The problem with Mshini Wam was playing it live, it didn’t really work. I don’t enjoy doing that PA style thing with just me and a DJ, live sampling was not much better, so the new album was an attempt to create something we could perform. Yeah it seems that a lot of those oldschool hip-hop bands who are currently doing that dad-rock style rebirth have ‘gone live’ in this slightly contrived way, like an afterthought. ‘Father Creeper’ sounds like you had live instrumentation embedded in the songs from the start, was this the case? Yes, it was a very natural move to live actually, super organic. The next album is actually where I’m going to try and take a lot of those ideas from Mshimi Wam, like the ways I wanted to adapt and use ‘township-tech’ sounds or South African house, in a direction that can still be live. I’m excited about it. I’m hoping to spend that whole second half of this year making tunes; moving between Joburg and Malmö, building a studio that can create the sounds I want. Sounds good. I guess we should probably let you go. As a last, slightly predictable question- what can people expect from your UK live shows? Ha! Well bare energy, a bit of wildness. The record really comes into its own live. It’s better live than on record. It’s going to be great.
Credit: Chris Saunders
Credit: Chris Saunders
Nozinja (Or ‘the Dog’) is a music producer from Limpopo, the northernmost province of SA. He is a multi-tasker, producing, scouting talent, singing, transporting, publishing, distributing and marketing the music of Nozinja Music Productions. Shangaan electro. This music is probably not much like anything you have heard before. Its fast. Most ‘popluar music’ at the moment is played at around 120-130 BPM (beats per minute), Shaangan is pushing the 180bpm mark, with a view to get faster. Thsi is in contrast to its distorted vocal samples, which are described as “African soap operas, tied up with domestic matters and a yearning for the slower life”. Like traditional Shaagaan music, its marimba based, but with bass delivered by ‘organs’ or midi keyboards. Most importantly, it is saturated with energy. Why so fast? Nozinja explains, “You play it slow, they won’t dance.” And dancing is an essential part of the shaangaan scene. Weekly dance offs take place, where new tunes are tried and tested. This music pushes dancer’s bodies to the limit. Men shake and buck, their knees rythmically knocking, in a work out that can go on for up to an hour. Women done thick layered skirts and shake and mind blowing speed. “When you see them dance you feel like they have got no bones. It’s similar to the Zulus, but faster and we put a lot of style inside. There’s disco in there, we use Pantsula moves.” Chris Saunder’s shots of the Tshetsha boys of Limpopo, show the contrasting uniforms of orange workwear and traditional dance clothing brought together, along with the infamous clown masks. Nozinjs’ explained that these clown outfits came about to engage children with the music- and are based on Ronald McDonald. The best way to get a grip of Shaangaan is to watch these guys dance. Get on youtube and
Shangaan Electro
A guide to The best shangaan artists by Wills Glasspiegel Glasspiegel is an American producer who represents Nozinja production and introduced them to Honest Johns record label, who released the compilation “Shangaan Electro: New Wave Dance Music from South Africa” Tshe Tsha Boys are named after the “tshetsha” dance that originates in the village of Ka-Mukomi in the northern province of Malamulele. When Dog first saw the dance in 2006, he bought a case of beer for the performers and held a contest to see who could dance the best. BBC stands for Beautiful Black Culture. The group comprises three sisters, W from Malamulele. They’re known for the way in which they dance in unison – a rare and magical sight in Shangaan. Tiyiselani Vomaseve are the queens of Shangaan dance. Featuring three sisters and two friends, they were Dog’s first hit-makers and among the first women to be at the forefront of any shangaan group. Traditionally in Shangaan culture, women/wives sing backup for a lead male voice, but Tiyiselani bucked the trend. Mancingelani was the first artist to join the Nozinja label in 2005. He comes from a family of musicians in Soweto. Mancingelani means “security guard” – it’s his day job.
New African Fashion So, I just did two searches for the word ‘tribal’.
for mixed-race girl, tribal-prints location, desert scene’.”
The first was in the Oxford Dictionary. Tribal- Characteristic of a tribe or tribes • Chiefly derogatory characterized by a tendency to form groups or by strong group loyalty.
“It really bores me when photographers shoot black girls the same way, with a tribal print and some bright eye-shadow going on. Come on, that was Alek Wek in the 1990s, do something different.”
The second was online at riverisland.com. ‘Keep ahead of the fashion pack with new tribal look for summer. Intricate beading and embellishments lend some glamour to the look’
So, what should we be looking for in African Inspired fashion? Perhaps we should do the obvious, and look to the continent itself. Not to out dated traditions and colonial nostalgia, but to young creatives in the big cities.
There is something disconcerting about a word being described as ‘chiefly derogatory’ by one source, and then being used to describe ‘clothing with african print styles’ by an other.
To Anisa Mpungwe, from Tanzania, who’s surrealist and sculptural monochrome work is a million miles away from a western styled ‘African identity’. Or Tiffany Amber, from Lagos, who creates understated but intricate floating dresses and silk boyfriend jackets. Or Buki Akib’s menswear range- an incredible feat of knitwear. She was born in Lagos just down the road from Fela Kuti’s Kalakuta Republic and Shrine nightclub, the hub of Afrobeat. She sights Fela as a huge influence. She describes how she was “worried at first about using such an iconic figure as my muse but fear always motivates me. Fela’s music has always taught me it’s ok to take risks. So I did.” And not forgetting the Smarteez, a group of Soweto based designers who have a vibrant and creative DIY ethos that has to be checked out.
The European fashion media far too often fall into stereotyped depictions of ‘African’ trends, whether its the colonial styles of Balenciaga who recently presented ‘safari trousers featuring a techno sheen’ or Cavalli and Gucci unearthing Game animal prints as the next big thing. Don’t get me started on the ethnicity of the models in those catwalk runs. Annie Wilshaw (Head of booking at Premier model agency) Summed this up in an interview she did with the Guardian recently: “Yes, I’d say the industry is racist. In Milan black girls never work. In Paris it’s still the same. It’s 2011 and that’s quite disgusting, really. When the client sends you a brief you know straight away they’re not talking about a black girl. They say they want ‘a girl with long hair, who looks like a fairy’ or something. When they want a black girl, they will say ‘looking
So, if your interested in finding out more about African designers, A good place to start would be Helen Jenning’s new book New African Fashion, or Team Uncoo teamuncoolfashion.blogspot.co.uk. Just don’t go searching for words like ‘tribal’...
A sweeping accumulation of our favourite Scottish DJs Top Five Global Tunes
Dave House
Astrojazz
1. Konono - No.1 Just about anything they’ve done (Ungudi Wele Wele if I had to choose) If you’ve not come across Konono No.1 before I urge you to check them out - you’ve never heard anything like it. Thrilling, lo-fi, trance-enducing polyrhythms exploding with distorted kalimbas. I don’t have enough body parts to move to this.
1. Miriam Makeba – A Piece of Ground A fierce, succinct and heartrending summing-up-by-song of South Africa’s dark past. Miriam herself was exiled from SA in 1960 until the fall of apartheid.
The Reverse Engineer www.mixcloud.com/ thereverseengineer
2. Lalo Orozco Y Su Combo Sabroso - Salsa Sabrosa This has all the hallmarks of my favourite Colombian music: upfront brass, off-kilter bass, funky piano and perfect percussion. Irresistable on the dancefloor and radiates joy in every direction. 3. Rhythm & Sound with Shalom - We been Troddin As an ex once said, “I just don’t trust people who don’t like reggae”. Amen. Straying from the roots a bit, this sparse, rolling slice of Berlin dub techno is exquisitely produced and has bass so sumptuous I’d do anything it told me. 4. Trinity Roots - Longs I for You Kiwi dub doesn’t get any better than Trinity Roots and this track always makes me melt - deceptively simple, properly deep, brooding and utterly immersive. It’s a wonder to me they’re not bigger outside New Zealand. 5. L’orchestre Kanga De Mopti - Sory Bamba A beautiful and delicate track amongst the more frenetic numbers on their recently reissued album; the gently circling marimba, guitar and vocals are guaranteed to put a smile on my face.
of Four Corners and Departure Lounge Fame www.astrojazz.co.uk
2. Mood Phase 5 – Ghetto @ Sunset Original Cape Town jazzy hip-hop, they released some wicked tracks in the 90s. 3. Hugh Masekela – Stimela (Coal Train) I think this is only available as a live recording – another unbearably sad yet mesmerising song about the “coal trains” that brought poor blacks to J-Burg to work the gold mines. 4. 340ml – Shotgun OK, they are actually from Mozambique but perform often in SA – for me one of the best undiscovered bands around – deserve to be as big as Fat Freddie Drop. Check them. 5. KB – El Musica There is so much house music in SA it’s impossible to pick one – from the deepest shit from Black Coffee to the kwaito bounce of Dj Mujava and numerous cohorts. But I’ve been spinning this one for years, it’s a really tasty afro-house number, produced I think by Osunlade on one of his many trips there.
Hannah 1. Aboodatoi Gasmilla 2. Ladies In The Club Cecile 3. F.Y.I Busy Signal 4. The Thing ft. Stone Atumpan 5. U Go Kill Me Sarkodie x E.L. Gh
Swank ‘n’ Jams
from Hoodoo Club
Josie 1.Pick a dream (album) Tumi and the Volumes 2. Lengoma Dj Sbu feat Zahara 3. Criez Criez 109 Connexion 4. Zamouna- Awadi 5.Performance Pt. 2 - MX prime
1. Ma Do Nar (Captain Planet Remix) - Los Chicharrons We’ve been totally obsessed with this tune for a while now, amazing hypnotic rhythym and stunning vocal. 2. Gypsy Ride - Stereo Express A total tech house balkan banger reminiscent of Boy 8 Bit’s Baltic Pine. 3. Greater Than Great (Manu Digital Remix) - Skarra Mucci/Dreadsquad MT-41 Riddim A classic elctronic dancehall number with all the right vocal hooks and production perfection.
Ellie 1. AHA Dirty Parrafin 2. Another Girl Jacques Greene 3. Hangover (BaBaBa) Buraka Som Sistema 4. Gunboat Spoek Mathambo 5. Township Funk DJ Mujava
4. Tabaco Mascao (El Criollo Refix) - Combo Los Gallegos One our favourite Latin American producers, El Crillio pushes all the right buttons with this sunshine filled tune.
Humphrey 1. Original Don Major Lazer 2. Light up the world Yasmin 3. 1995 The Busy Twist 4. In My Math Mos Dub 5. Rio (Fare Soldi Remix) Duran Duran
No Globe Top Fives
Joel 1.Alexaandraa B. feat. Zaza Twins Instru Logobi 2. Azaeilia Banks Jumanji 3. Saigon84 Tears For Beers 4. Mungo’s Hi Fi ft. YT World news 5. Frikstailers Guacha
5. Gypsy Woman (feat. Joe Baatan) - Suonho Another brilliant release on the ever reliant Resense label, boogaloo at it’s best.
Same All Over? Punk Identity (Politics) and Crusty Globalisation Like the producers of this fanzine - and I guess by extension many of the people reading this article - I’ve got a problem with ‘World Music’. Not only because it conjures up cliched images of middle-class hippies in a field at WOMAD, spliff behind ear, dancing with a rolled up copy of the Guardian under one arm and a didgeridoo in the other, but because of a more deeply felt discomfort with the patronising, essentialist and outmoded concept of identity it represents and embodies. This is, of course, not to say that I don’t like music from ‘other’ cultures or that takes influence from and pays respect to (their own and/or others) place-based and social histories. Rather, it’s the distillation and packaging of this cultural richness into an easily recognisable, saleable/ consumable style, aesthetic and identity that doesn’t quite sit right. The idea that a singular ‘traditional’ style of music capably surmises or represents an entire culture is absurd. The type of people that ignore such absurdity tend to do so to appear cultivated via their CD collection or choice of festivals, defusing their white middle-class guilt with the latest Tinariwen album and ‘crazy times’ photo albums shared on Facebook. Armchair musical ethnography aside, maybe there is something gained in transferring the scornful scepticism I visit upon the lovers of ‘indigenous beats’ to myself with relation to the music I grew up with and love. Much of it emerged from the DIY punk scene. I got into Nirvana as a pre-teen around the time that Nevermind was released and was, in retrospect, a total sucker for the ‘alternative’ rock construct; uncritically following the line from Nirvana, to Alice in Chains, to Stone Temple Pilots and to Stiltskin without really recognising the difference (for those that don’t know the former are ‘proper’ bands that crossed over from underground to mainstream while the latter were the label-manufactured versions). Whilst I avoided having dreads and saying ‘dude’ all the time (at least that’s how I choose to remember it) I was intrigued by the personality traits of early nineties alternative rock stars – not giving a fuck, non-careerist, irreverent. These rubbed off and became an entrance point into a more politicised take on the world. The Slacker is a distinct cousin to the Nihilist Punk or the Switched-On Hippy but the roughly anti-capitalist principles still seeped in over time. In this way I could admit to having had an identity shaped at least partially by my musical tastes. Later on, when I moved to Leeds and got involved in the DIY punk scene, I was exposed to more exaggerated and intense versions of these characters. Black-clothed crusties with political literature poking out of their canvas bags; squatter punks participating in movement-ofmovements activism; mega-slackers who had never worked but were professionals in their field of outrageous Double Dutch lager consumption. The politics ranged from militant direct action to not-really-bothered individualist hedonism but it was, and is, a fantastic milieu to observe, engage and hang out in. When my band started to tour Europe in the early 2000’s we did the social centre/youth club/ squat circuit that had been well trod by DIY musicians from Leeds 6 for the previous couple of
decades. I was pleasantly surprised to have my naïve preconceptions of what a gig in Slovenia would be like smashed. Rather than playing to a room full of wide-eyed hicks who had never heard a distortion pedal used before (and the village goat), the place in which we played was a bigger, better, more advanced version of the cool venues in Leeds and Bradford; a mega-complex called Metalkova in Ljubljana. It was a former Yugoslavian army barracks that had been squatted and turned into a Centre Parks for socially-minded punks, alternative culture lovers, artists and activists. Similarly, across Europe we drank, ate, played and slept in the full gamut of autonomous social centres; some squatted and barely legal, others state-endorsed, heavily funded and sterilely well organised. Now, as great as it is to see a trail of ethically managed venues built on co-operative and anarchist principles across the globe, after a few goes around the circuit a certain kind of squat fatigue sets in. You begin to pick up on the same conversations being had, the same bands posters adorning the walls, the same vegan stew served in varying shades across the continent, and variations on the same characters popping up in each like a game of bingo (the burnt out acid head, the long suffering sound guy, the usual spattering of cider-soaked ‘punishers’ that you know you’re going to have to excuse yourself from later in the night). Indeed, those bands that tour the social centre circuit regular and hard can be forgiven for forgetting what city or even country they’re in. To bring this back to my original question, how is this form of standardisation, born out of a essential identity attached to a form of music (the ‘punk’ anti-authoritarian non-conformist) any better than the type of sanitised cultural tourism that World Music offers? This might sound rhetorical but I think it’s genuinely worth tackling. Underlying it is the question of a universalism that isn’t reductive, that is both plural and resolutely felt. It can’t be properly addressed here, but I believe the key difference lies between the identity politics of World Music and the politics of production proper to punk. Although there are a certain set of characteristics and moral codes - more often than not ‘one size fits all’ - attached to punk/DIY music, its essential traits are not about who makes/acts/speaks/produces but how. Its traditions are in a way of going about things, in the motivation and the spirit, rather than in geographical locations and bloodlines. Noisy rock music done for Love Not Money may predictably attract a certain brand of nonconformist and create its own stylistic circles but it also resonates beyond those walls. So we need to look beneath the surface and scratch away the crust if we are to unearth what’s really radical about ‘alternative music’ and the DIY punk scene. There’s something worth shouting about there. Andy Abbott www.andyabbott.co.uk
Pantsula Dance Real Action
Pantsula is a flat footed dance, Pantsula in zulu means to walk like a duck, or with a protruded buttocks. It In Conversation was originally the calling of with Chris Saunders Tsotsis, or drug and gun free gangsters, in the townships, “The first work I did with the who would try to outperform Pantsula dance crew for Colours each other. Now it is a rough, magazine was probably my favorite agile and acrobatically skilled shoot. I flew back to SA from Italy dance form focussed on (Chris spent a year working in pushing boundaries and plain Italy) and spent time with these old showing off. super energetic, mad dudes who lived on Orange Farm, a township Chris’s first exhibition of about 45 Km from Johannesburg. this work was titled S’phara Every township is so different, has Phara, which is word used a different atmosphere. Orange originally to describe the town is so chilled out. People on sound of trains passing, but the streets always talking, its so laid now is linked to the sounds of back, but energetic.” dancers feet as the stamp and slide. He talks about some Pantsula dance is a popular dance of the important guys in the form that come hand in hand scene. with Kwaito. “Zilo is the main business Kwaito is a tributary of SA house, man, it’s ‘Zilo’s entertainment” featuring African style sounds that sells Pantsula dance and samples. Its a bit slower than to the world. Sello is the other house genres and darn choreographer, he comes up catchy, pretty similar to some with all the moves and is more hip hop. A loose translation of on the dance side than the Kwaito into english is ‘cool’, so business.” that explains a lot. Despite house music being associated with Sello describes the importance white Afrikaans musicians in the of dancing in the townships, 90s, Kwaito really helped shape “Pantsula dance is a gift African subculture and brought given to man by nature and it black music into the mainstream. originates here in Emzansi so M’du Masilela, a pioneering we must nurture this cultural Kwaito artist, said, “When house dance form by teaching more music got popular, people from the kids so that they can get off ghetto called it Kwaito after the the street, not do crime and or Afrikaans slang word kwai [sic], drugs. The main aim is to prove meaning those house tracks were the negative connotation Ama hot, that they were kicking.” pantsula izingebengu (thieves) wrong”.
With Pantsula comes a culture of adrenaline, Chris describes how this is big part of the culture. “There is a lot of driving around and spinning their cars. Its part of the entertainment. I went down to shoot a music video, and these guys where doing choreographed spins in their BMW 325s. The ones with the the square fronts, we call them gusheshe, they were popular in the 90s. The cars are important. they are a relic of the abolition of apartheid, symbols of freedom and power. The crowd stand around a 20 X 20 meter square, the drivers coming within 30 cm of the edges. While cars are spinning, the guys get out using a stick to do the steering wheel, get onto the roof and back through the sun roof. Life is so hectic in the townships, there is a lot of chaos. I don’t know, but maybe this stuff feels less extreme when your growing up in extremes. They are well practiced, they are controlled, things don’t generally go wrong.” The Real Action Pantsula Dance crew are making their European debut at the SDK (The world most prestigious street dance meeting) In the Czech Republic This summer, If your around that way!
Credit: Chris Saunders
Credit: Chris Saunders
“ Dirty Paraffin are awesome. Smiso is an incredibly imaginative artist- slangmaster, dancemaster, fashion don.� Spoek Mathambo
Tinariwen and Jose Gonzales come together for a one-off gig? Scorching psychadelia of the deserts meets the sparse, cold wind of Scandinavian folk? Fuck knows if it’ll work, but let’s find out. Squeezing through the lobby bustling with a brood of couples on fifth dates and a surprisingly large delegation of lairy lads, we popped into our seats at the back of Sheperd’s Bush Empire to catch the final warbles of Mr Gonzales. I’m not going to lie and I will not provide any excuses, but it really was the final warbles. However that last croon was enough and saved us the joy of watching middle-aged couples chew face on the back row to Heartbeats. Dwarfed by the stage, Jose Gonzales was at best lacklustre and, when joined by a flautist, as syrupy as a jar of molasses. Not quite the haunting, sparse folk I had been lead to expect, but perhaps he would have got away with it in a more intimate venue. As Gonzales’ pale melodies quickly faded from memory, the members of legendary desert soul rebel outfit Tinariwen (minus a couple, who had been unable to make it due to the ever pesky pest of visa problems) filed onto the stage for the last show of their tour. Here the superstars really did live up to reputation. Throbbing bass and fluttering guitar layered with hypnotic call-and-response chants and cracking beats permeated the room, lifting the atmosphere and even lifting a few bums off seat (some to dance and others out of fear). Band members left and joined the stage, swapping instruments and even taking time out for a bit of on-stage frolicking, using their musical prowess to shift like
the desert between hypnotic, dance- inducing tunes and charged, soulful harmonies. One of the most beautiful of which was a pounding blues number Assouf, a word that doesn’t directly translate into English, but expresses deep longing and loneliness, or “everything that lies in the darkness beyond the campfire”. Tinariwen’s infectious, emotionally charged songs have brought to light the suffering and rebellion of the the Kel Tamashek (or Tuareg) nomadic tribes and created an individual sound that draws on the traditions of the past whilst expressing the turmoil and excitement of the present. Their bringing together of wide influences, from the pentatonic scales of the desert to the pulsing guitar of the blues, and their unparalleled energy have cleared them a spot in music history. A spot that was in fact marked during the performance by the bewildering appearance of Jon Snow in a tux, who handed them a reward, shouted something nice about “sounds of Mali” and then buggered off, and then by another guy who handed them a reward, shouted something else nice and buggered off as well. Oh and I nearly forgot to mention muchhyped, one-off collab promised between Gonzales and the band; it was pretty forgettable. Gonzales just about managed to keep up, but I’m not even sure if his guitar was actually plugged in. All in all, Tinariwen were great, Jose Gonzales was all right, and Jon Snow looks funny in a tux. Bea Bottomley
The Royal Terrace, underneath Calton Hill at the east end of Prince’s Street is populated by sundry hotels and embassies, a score of impressive (& repetitive) Newtownhouses; mock Greek columns and a stern sort of opulence surrounds. Strange then that such a raucous gig should have taken place there... The Ukrainian Association of Edinburgh’s opened its doors to the general public for an annual fundraising affair on Friday the 28th of October, headlined this time by Yorkshire indie rock/Ukrainian folk crossover act The Ukrainians. Prosaic name notwithstanding, this was an awesome gig. The building’s first floor assembly room, decorated on its east and west walls with portraits of long dead national heroes (footnote - this was up there in strange decor terms with the huge, “Lisbon Lions”-era Glasgow Celtic framed photograph which acted as a backdrop to a Damo Suzuki gig in Richardson’s in Galway) was the ad-hoc concert hall. The basement bar, at the bottom of tiny, windy stairs, was the go-to for cheap but good Ukrainian beer. It was also the go-to for me being accused of being a member of the Proclaimers, which sadly, happens quite a lot. Being boringly and comprehensively Irish in background, it seemed my friend and I were the only people there who didn’t have any Ukrainian family connections. The initial apprehensiveness of the cultural interloper quickly gave way to enjoyment; the crowd was cool. The age range was inclusive - from kids of about 10 years of age to 70 somethings. All ages gigs? The punk rockers have got nothing on the Ukrainians...Appealing mainly to the older part of the audience, support band Toczka played a set of mainly traditional Eastern European folk songs, largely unplugged and acapella, with some sparse instrumental accompaniment. During their set - which was greeted with hushed reverence often reserved in other contexts for a mundane David Gray clone (I kid, I kid!) - I caught a glimpse of an older man who must have been in his late 70s. He seemed on the verge of tears; deep memories attached to the tune, perhaps, or just caught up in the performance at that moment. To see that kind of reaction reminded me why we all bother to listen to music; aside from élitist debates over taste, cliqueishness in certain scenes, and the tendency for some to see art as a neat lifestyle accessory, this brought it all back home - the deep, heavy connection we have to songs we love, embedded in our lives and memories. After a brief interval and more Ukrainian beer, the headliners started. With mandolins, accordion and fiddle, as well as traditional rock instrumentation, this was sonically a leap ahead from the pastoral styles of the support. This, in my view, is A Good Thing. More gigs should have eclectic bills like this; a handy antidote to easy genre pigeon-holing. Within minutes, the atmosphere in the hall changed, from more reflective and mellow to full-on raucousness. Limbs began flailing amongst the crowd, to varying levels of rhythm and/or competence. Songs built to almost impossible rhythms - the drummer’s “strength and indefatigability” (to appropriate a George Galloway-ism) spurring them on. Halfway through, The Ukrainians dropped one of their biggest “hits” - a Ukrainian language cover of The Smiths’ “Bigmouth Strikes Again”, entitled Batyar. It’s off their first release - the band were an offshoot of John Peel favourites The Wedding Present - and it’s a good starting point for getting into the band. It also kicks the crap out of The Smiths’ original version. The set took a turn towards balladry at this point, with slower, more mournful tunes and waltzes taking hold. Their conclusion brought it back to the more frenetic dance numbers, and their last 3 songs prompted frenzied, sweaty dancing, including some “Kossack” (sic)-esque moves from some (apologies for my ignorance here). And so it ended. An utterly great gig, in a location completely under the radar, with no discernible “music scene” identifiable there. Kids, don’t lose faith in the strange, random experiences that Edinburgh has to offer... Check out the Ukrainians on Spofity, vinyl, tape and their website: www.the-ukrainians.com Kieran Curran