Tag: durban

Same Sex Saturdays are for everybody

For the last 2 years, Same Sex Saturdays has been a home for Durban’s mostly black, and mostly gay youth. I say “mostly” because the event’s creator Andiswa Dlamini is set on making the space open to everyone, whilst catering to people like her. “I was sitting at Amsterdam one day and I realised that gay people, transgender people, lesbians, bisexuals, LGBTI community walk into straight places all the time, unknowingly. We know it’s straight, however the owner didn’t know that that was the target market. I wanted to create something that straight people or heterosexual people can walk into and know that it’s homosexual first, and feel comfortable after. For me, I just wanted to create an environment that embodies who I am. I don’t only have gay friends. I have plenty of straight friends and I wanted to create an environment where they’re like ‘This is cool’”.

That struck me as strange – to create a queer space but to also want to include us heterosexuals. On the whole, we’ve been abusive, murderous monsters to people who don’t fit into our narrow view of the world, so it seems like staying away from us would probably be best. But that’s why Andy wants to extend the olive branch, to try and alleviate some of the pain inflicted on the queer community because of straight people’s fears. “There’s so much happening to homosexuals via heterosexual people. And the only way to change that, I feel, is to educate and to see that we have fun the same way. We speak the same way. We drink the same way. We like the same things. We do the same things. We dance the same. We listen to music the same. The DJs are the same. It’s ok, you know? It’s an education.” Andy continues, “I started it for different reasons, I love people, and it still essentially is about the people, and just creating something that I feel is lacking within Durban city. Something that I’m comfortable to go to. I feel like we also need to create conversations with conceptual events and not just have a party. It’s not about that, it’s about people, difference, normalising it, it’s fine.”

It sucks that we still have to “normalise it” in 2017, but a lot of things suck about 2017 and I admire Andy for actively making that effort to make the world suck less. Same Sex Saturdays is one of the things that doesn’t suck about 2017. The lineups are always carefully curated for maximum time on the dancefloor. The All Black Edition featured a mix of djs and live acts from Durban, Joburg, Cape Town and Mpumalanga. We’re talking gospel, we’re talking gqom, we’re talking hip-hop, R&B, soul, kwaito, trap…A magnificent mix of South African favourites and international hits had the dancefloor going as soon as the sun went down.

Putting the lineups together is a collaborative effort as Andy explains, “I sit there with a lot of friends, because I’ve got a lot of DJ friends, and we sit there and we discuss and go ‘Ok, this is what fits at this time.’ This is the All Black Edition, so this is different. The live element of it had to play more and the DJs had to pump up a bit more.” Durban’s own choice track selectas, Raw Kidd, Sosha. SoKool and Thandaman Jones, certainly did get all Joe Budden and pumped it up, but iZiqhaza provided the true highlight of the night where a woman in the audience joined them on stage and danced, was handed the mic, and belted out the song playing like a pro. The unexpected surprise had the crowd cheering and the rest of the set saw everyone letting go and getting down.

“I’m a city lesbian, I don’t know what that means but I am a city lesbian,” Andy jokingly says towards the end of our conversation. “I was raised in a semi-suburb, so I try to understand a lot of cultures and backgrounds.” It’s because of this understanding, of herself and others, that she can create such a nuanced space. A space where Dragon Ball Z visuals play behind a gospel band, whilst boys get down with boys and girls get down with girls, and boys get down with girls, and 2 girls get down with 1 boy, or 3… You get the drift, it’s totally up to you to do what you want to do, and that’s what makes Same Sex Saturdays so fucking cool.

26 July 2017
Zakifo: A Different Kind of South African Music Festival

If you’re tired of going to music festivals with 37 different versions of Shortstraw, or if you’re tired of 40 straight hours of trance being called a music festival, you should check out Zakifo, an actual music festival. Now in it’s third year, Zakifo has found it’s feet and it’s voice as a uniquely curated international buffet of music, held in Durban of all places. If you’re not a Durbanite, you probably haven’t been before, but with Damian “Jr Gong” Marley as this year’s headliner, chances are that might change. While the first 2 editions of the festival provided a broad sonic pallet from around the world, they lacked the support they deserved because they lacked that universally known draw card that helps build critical mass. There aren’t many artists as universally known, and loved, as Bob Marley’s youngest son. It’s a monster booking that has generated hype for the young and ambitious festival, but is not all they have on offer. For those of you making your way to Durban from the 26th to the 28th of May, you’re in for a real treat.

Let me be clear, Zakifo has been a vibe from the start. The first year was a weekend long street party outside the Rivertown Beerhall. It was ambitious in its scope, with 2 stages and a lineup that probably would have drawn better in other cities, but still managed to get most of Durban’s creative community dancing in the streets. We’re talking Mi Casa, Make-Overs, The Soil, Felix Laband, Madala Kunene, Christian Tiger School, Durban acts like The Wolfpack, Veranda Panda and Raheem Kemet (All as they were making names for themselves on radio), and an international lineup that featured artists from France, Reunion Island, Mozambique and my favourite act of the weekend, the enchanting Flaviah Coelho from Brazil. Sounds like a good time, right? It was, you should have been there.

Last year, they scaled up yet again, with 3 stages at the old Natal Command. A music festival on land that used to be a military base feels like a small symbolic victory for the arts. They bumped up the international acts and audiences got more than they bargained for from the likes of Ghanaian-American Blitz The Ambassador, Too Many Zooz from New York, Mali’s Songhoy Blues, Estere from New Zealand, and the SA contingent of Moonchild, Maramza, aKing, Tidal Waves BCUC,Gigi Lamayne… it goes on for a while. The booking for Zakifo has been on point and unlike any other festival in South Africa. You may not recognise all of them, but you don’t see too many of the names on Zakifo’s lineup on other SA festival bills, and therein lies its value. You’re not going to see anything else like it.

Zakifo is an ambitious festival and this looks to be be the year that ambition pays off. While Damien Marley is a superstar booking that has given the festival more visibility, the rest of the lineup is on the level with some of the coolest festivals in the world. Birdy Nam Nam are the 2002 DMC World Team Champs and all around French electro legends, but you probably recognise their name from working with A$AP Rocky and Skrillex on Wild For The Night. Tiggs Da Author’s ‘Run’ will be familiar to FIFA fans, but most notably, the video, which is now on over 2 million views, was shot in South Africa using the talents of local drifters. London’s Nova Twins are bad bitches who play “urban-punk”- bass-laden post-punk that sounds like Guano Apes after listening to Death Grips. The South African contingent this year is also phenomenal, there are the legends in the form of Ray Phiri and Thandiswa Mazwai, the inspiring Bongeziwe Mabandla (who we’ve interviewed before), the phenomenal Petite Noir, and a cappella group The Soil, who hold the honour of being the first act to perform at Zakifo twice.

While the South African music festival has mostly become known for giving international indie and alt-rock acts a pay day once they’ve lost relevancy, festivals like Zakifo (and AfroPunk) are booking acts that are current as fuck and that appeal to more than just the privileged white kid demographic. Things have felt a bit stale on the SA festival circuit for a while now- repetitive lineups of 70% white boys backed by an international headliner just doesn’t really cut it anymore. I don’t doubt that Oppikoppi and Rocking The Daisies teaming up this year is because of “The Rand”, but you have to look at their lineups over the last few years and ask: How does this appeal to most South Africans? I can’t imagine things getting any easier for festivals like Oppi and RTD with more and more viable competition popping up. Competition that offers something unique, whilst they’re sharing headliners. With AfroPunk coming out of the gates swinging, and Zakifo building on its solid foundation, South Africans have more choices where to spend their annual festival budget and more opportunities to experience something different, something that actually feels South African.

22 May 2017
Constructing Future Cities // imagining cities led and designed by women

Future Cape Town is a leading platform on re-thinking future cities. Through its online presence, research and projects the organization works towards the creation of more democratic, visionary and inclusive cities. I spoke to the founder of Future Cape Town Rashiq Fataar about their Constructing Future Cities project.

Research increasingly demonstrates that women are occupying leadership positions in business and cities around the world, and yet the voices of women remain largely absent in the way our cities are designed and planned. In light of this, Mr. Fataar explains that their goal with Constructing Future Cities is to “use artists to give expression to what women think, feel and hope future cities could be. To provoke ideas and interesting possibilities for approaches to cities if they were entirely conceived by women, particularly young women.”. He situates the importance of these conversations within the broader urbanization process rapidly accelerating on the African continent and the gender inequality within the built environment sector. This project as a continuation of the work done by Future Cape Town, recognizes the need to challenge traditional approaches to understanding urban living and planning for the future. “What we have found is that cities of the past have been quite male-dominated in their planning and using a number of unsuccessful modernist-led planning approaches. What this has done is perpetuate inequality, and produce economic systems, justice systems, health systems and environmental systems which do not improve the quality of life for millions of people. We are at an important departure point where we need a new generation of visionaries who will re-imagine cities in a way that addresses the current challenges but also thinks about the future”.

Future Cape Town’s approach to research includes new informants and mediums to engage with these complexities. This has been put into motion through the Constructing Future Cities project where five women artists were selected to open up the discussion on re-imagining future cities. Choosing to work with artists follows on from their transdisciplinary approach to research and urban living. “It is essential that in this complex, intertwined world where we have been working in silos, where we have been limiting ourselves to our particular fields or professional education, that the future city will require people to grapple with working with new people. And we find that art and artists play a critical role early on in the process to challenge that way of working,” Rashiq explains. The artists they are working with include architecture graduates Amina Kaskar, Sumayya Vally and Sarah de Villiers from Counterspace (an architectural firm based in Johannesburg), critical spatial practitioner Michelle Mlati and current Masters student in Landscape Architecture Thozama Mputa. Although they approach city-making from different perspectives, their work demonstrates passion for making the city a space for dialogue. These artists have been invited to create work that capture visions for cities, drawing on input from women in Durban, Cape Town and London.

Image by Thozama Mputa

The first phase of the project took place in Durban where they visited various parts of the city and hosted a workshop where a panel of 30 women from various sectors convened to discuss the role of women in re-imagining the city. Conversations revolved around the contemporary issues women face as a point of departure for looking at future cities. These issues included the education of women and the limitations that women face in the workplace.

The next phase of Constructing Future Cities will take place in Cape Town from 22-26 May. They will host another workshop, but the focus of this week will be on the artists putting their work together for the final day’s exhibition, to be held alongside a panel discussion.

Rashiq reflected on the the relationship that has emerged between Future Cape Town and the artists through their collaboration, emphasizing that their research has been enriched by working with women artists. “We see this part of the programme as more of a catalyst, and we hope to deepen our engagements with these artists and other artists to continue to push forward the idea of the SA city of the future led and designed by women.”.

To find out more about the Constructing Future Cities programme visit the Future Cape Town website.

Image from Counterspace

‘This article forms part of content created for the British Council Connect ZA 2017 Programme. To find out more about the programme click here.’

22 May 2017
Otarel Seeks Balance Through Her Raps

In the current era of hip-hop, it says something about a rapper when they approach Ready D to mix and scratch on their mixtape. It says they know and respect the history of their craft. It says they’re not trying to do what everyone else is currently doing. It says they rate themselves enough to ask a legend to put their name behind their talent. But what does it say when a hip-hop legend like Ready D agrees to work with that rapper? It says that you should probably give them a listen.

Otarel’s debut release, ‘Dirty All Stars’, has to be a SA Hip-Hop Awards contender for Mixtape of the Year. Not just because Ready D put his deft touch on it, but because Otarel can R-A-P better than your fav. In a time where hooks typically outweigh lyricism, and the combo a rapper wears is more important than what they have to say, Otarel takes it back to the days where knowledge reigned supreme over nearly everyone with boom-bap and jazz influenced beats. I asked her how she navigates being a lyrical rapper in the era of the hook, expecting her to knock those who put more effort into one line than the rest of the song, instead she told me “I always seek balance. I’ve been rapping for 13 odd years and it’s taken me this long to release something that is mine because I needed to perfect a certain style that merges the hooks with the lyrical aspect, and I am still fine tuning it. I mean, we can’t stop a genre from expanding just because we have mastered a particular sound within it.” Fair enough. Hip-hop has been expanding since Day 1 and those who don’t adapt, die. Otarel knows this, “Adaptability is the MCee’s most important tool, as long as he can attain it without compromising themselves or their desires. I used to hate it though, ‘cause I know that that’s not all that hip-hop comprises of, and it dilutes the flexibility of an artist, but if an MCee wants to attract the ears of the people then it’s a good quality to have, balance.”

‘Dirty All Stars’ is a balanced release. At times Otarel comes across as the toughest woman in the world, at other times, her edges get sanded down and her soul is laid bare. “The toughness comes from being around dudes a lot, ne?” She explains, “I did a lot of sports growing up, I was tomboyish so I hardly had a lot of female friends, and I was raised by a strong willed single parent who never showed weakness unless she felt it was going to teach us something about humanity. Plus she whipped our asses if we fucked up, so that contributed. At some stage I got bullied in primary school, and had to do karate to build self defense, but as I grew up, I sort of toned down on the hardness cause it was no longer necessary and I just kept the bits so I could protect me against preying dudes in hip-hop.”

Being a woman in hip-hop can’t be easy, I asked Otarel how the industry treats her as a female rapper, she laughed and told me, “Like I wear too much clothing and too little make up (laughs). I have had an experience where organizers would rather book a talentless hack, just because she semi-dresses, over me, because I just have too much to say and won’t fuck him for a slot on a non paying event. Imagine (laughs). But that’s why I have a manager person. He knows where I knock ‘em dead in terms of appeal and I am pretty good at what I do, which is the most important factor in a long lasting music career.”

While she has to be tough to survive in a male-dominated industry, it’s her sensitive side that balances out Otarel’s sound and gives her an edge over her male counterparts. When I enquired how important it is for artists to be emotionally open with their work, Otarel explained, “Vital. Writing from the heart and from experience is what makes a person be able to relate to you as an artist. Having the ability to connect with a person simply because you are open to feeling. A lot of music now is based on energy and words, where the focus is on what’s being said instead of the emotional capacity of the music and how it makes a person feel through the content and the expressions and the production as a whole.”

It’s wild to think that Otarel has been rapping for 13 years yet this is her first release. It’s why ‘Dirty All Stars’ comes across as way more mature than your traditional debut. Nobody wants to put in their 10, 000 hours anymore and it’s lead to wack shit dominating the airwaves. I guess that’s why Otarel’s mixtape is so refreshing, you can hear that it’s a well developed piece of art that came from years of hard work, struggle and sacrifice. If you’re tired of hearing the same old shit from kids who don’t know shit, get an education in hip-hop and life from Otarel.

12 May 2017
Bubblegum Club Top Picks for European Film Festival

Johannesburg, Cape Town, Durban and Pretoria will be host to some exciting cinematic productions as part of this year’s European Film Festival. With films addressing topics such as animal rights, family dynamics, experiences of war and heartbreak, audiences will be entertained as well as offered moments of contemplation. Having looked through their diverse programme, we selected four must-see films.

The High Sun

The High Sun directed by Dalibor Matanić addresses feelings of loss, displacement, love and pain caused by the Serbo-Croatian conflict over three decades through the magnifying glass of love. Three love stories played by the same actors at three different moments reveals how love tries to survive across ethnic lines. The first story takes place in pre-war 1991 while fear and hatred grows, with the tension culminating in an unexpected display of violence in reaction to two lovers from opposing sides. We fast forward to 2001 where we are introduced to a moody teenager who returns to her ruined home with her mother. Her mother is determined to rebuild their home with the help of a man from the other side. Unable to let go of the memory of her brother’s death, the hints of romance between the teenager and the builder have little chance to blossom. We fast forward again to 2011, to what appears to be a happier atmosphere, but as the story unfolds we are privy to wounds and heartbreak that have been masked and fermenting for years. With each story taking place during the height of Summer, the sun takes on a symbol of the burning tension between both sides, as well as a container for memories of love and pain.

Strike a Pose

This documentary directed by Ester Gould and Reijer Zwaan revisits the lives of seven dancers who were part of Madonna’s controversial 1990 tour, Blond Ambition. During the tour and through a documentary about the tour, Madonna made very clear statements about gay rights and the need for more attention to be given to HIV/Aids prevention. Through Strike a Pose we seen how her main group of back up dancers, made of mostly gay men, paid the price for her outspokenness in multiple ways. We see them reflect on their inner battles and secrets they had to keep from each other and the world, as well as their pride from being able to be part of such a powerful tour, both from a musical and social sense. In between conversations with the dancers and their family members, we see snippets of their current lives, and witness moments of pause and reflection through the dance pieces they perform.

Game of Checkers

Portuguese director Patricia Sequeira allows us to spend a night with five best friends in a spacious secluded home that was owned by their dead friend, Marta.

There is arguing, crying, cooking, eating, drinking, smoking and painful laughter as the friends reopen wounds and share secrets. We feel their ache of growing old as they are learning how to deal with endings.

All seated at the dining table, the friends explain how a female life is a game of checkers, although it may be filled with great joys, a tireless list of burdens is an inevitable part of womanhood.

Sequeira beautifully captures the vulnerability and pain of each character with invasive frames. It is almost as if the audience is an intruder as we learn about the diverse dynamics among them.

Poignant discussions about the changes experienced in lifelong relationships suggest an uncertain future for the group of friends.

American Honey

Andrea Arnold’s latest film American Honey (2016) captures the carefree recklessness of youth. In the British directors drama road film, we follow the life of a captivating teenage girl named Star (Sasha Lane).

Originally from Texas, the American Honey, Star dumpster dives to sustain the livelihood of two young children who live with her in a troubled home. It is evident that Star longs for a starkly different life. From the minute that she catches a glimpse of Jake’s (Shia LaBeouf) eye, Star sees a hope for her future.

Star ventures into the unknown with a group of wildly fun individuals who are led by a fierce woman named Krystal (Riley Keough). They travel across America’s Midwest to sell an endless list of magazine subscriptions. Star the rookie of the group is paired with veteran and phenomenal salesman, Jake. They naturally make a cosmic connection which is interfered with by curiosity, deception and the misadventures of survival.

Arnold uses intimate frames with vibrant colours, electric characters, clamorous hip-hop, introspective dialogue, flirting and sexual energy which make the mundane plot stimulating. American Honey is a long, messy, organic observation of youthful passion and the pursuit for purpose.

3 May 2017
Red Robyn – The Sweet-voiced Songbird from Wentworth

Birders of Durban feel shame no more. No longer shall Durban be known as the city with the world’s most annoying bird, the Indian Mynah, but instead, as the city that produced the songbird Red Robyn. Okay, so, Red Robyn is not red, or a Robin, or a bird at all. Obviously, why would I be telling you about an actual bird? Sorry Durban birders, you still have nothing to be proud of. She is a songbird, though, or a songstress, I should say, and one you wouldn’t mind hearing at the start of each day. Or during the day. Or at night even. Like, literally any time is good.

What are you doing right now? Here, listen to this…

How nice was that? How playfully and succinctly does she just cut down the immature boy the song is aimed at. “I’m too old to play with toys, flowers in my hair, ain’t got time for do or dare, oh the shit you’re giving me is just too much and I don’t care, boy”. It would be brutal if it wasn’t wrapped in such vocal sweetness.

The 21-year-old from Wentworth has a way with words and deftly uses cadence to back them up. This could be because of her background studying drama and music at UKZN, but Red Robyn, real name Ashleigh de Gee, has been musical her whole life. She’s been singing since she was a kid in the choir at church and with both her mother and father being musicians and her grandfather being in a band when he was younger, it’s safe to say that music is in her family.

The singer is not just a singer but an academic too. She’s currently working on a research paper in deconstructing the coloured identity. Well, she’s currently taking a break until next semester, with this semester being spent on making music. I got to interview Red Robyn a few months ago but it never got published. In our chat, she explained to me what lead her to her topic,“For me, it came from a point of searching for my own identity. People would always ask me, especially in high school, “What are you?” I feel like that such a weird question to ask someone, “What are you?” It came from my own sort of searching within myself to try and find my own identity.”

I followed up asking her what was the most interesting thing she’d come across in her research? She told me, “The thing that fascinates me is that this generation of coloured people is starting to ask questions. For a long time, I think that coloured people have just accepted the way things are and there’s a generation that’s come out now who are asking questions about their heritage, and they want to know more and do better than the last generation. They want to succeed. There’s a lot of good coming out of being displaced. Just claiming our heritage and claiming our culture.”

As a white dude, I obviously don’t really know anything about coloured identity. I know that representation matters and that the work that Red Robyn is doing, both on-stage and off, is important. With coloured Cape Town artists like Youngsta, Patty Munroe, Dope Saint Jude and Isaac Mutant getting well-deserved national and international recognition, it’s time for young, fresh coloured artists from Durban to also get some shine.

Red Robyn will no-doubt get the recognition she deserves soon as she’s fast making herself the queen of collaboration in Durban. The groovy track you heard above is with shit-hot producer MISSU (I interviewed him for Noisey if you’re interested), and they recently teamed up again, along with trip-hop producer Tre Flips, on the deeply romantic and heartbreaking ‘Colours’. Last week she dropped a soulful number called Taekwon with her boyfriend and bandmate in the phenomenal jazz collective Blvck Crystals, Jaedon Daniel. You can hear it below. Her soundcloud is littered with cross-genre collaborations, and last night she let her Facebook fans know that she and Jaedon will be putting out a mixtape, and that she’ll be dropping collabs with Skata, Taylor Made, Easy Freak and Joe Music soon.

I recently wrote that Red Robyn and Jaedon Daniel are part of a new wave of “young, independent, forward-thinking Durban musicians building themselves, and each other, through collabs with like-minded individuals.” But more than that, I think Red Robyn could be one of the prominent faces of this new wave. I guess time will tell, but for now, keep an eye and an ear out for the sweet-voiced songbird from Wentworth.

7 February 2017
Amanda Laird Cherry – Stitching Cultural Narratives Through Cloth

“The fabrics and the cuts we wear tell us about our society” – Amanda Cherry

A pleated cuff shudders under the folded forms of flesh. The iconic white shirt – elongated and extended. Facilitating a gentle ease of motion while still maintaining architectural line and form. Languid limbs and leafy tendrils lie juxtaposed to an urban interior. Horizontal reflections distort and duplicate. Perpendicular lines intersect, simultaneously concealing and revealing the bodies beneath. Amanda Cherry’s menswear line, ALC and adjacent ladieswear collection, Amanda Laird Cherry, are caught in the tender balance, structure and organic flow.

Amanda’s work as a designer is located within an inherent love and admiration of her home – South Africa. Steeped in a context of multi-culturalism, she draws on and is influenced by its diversity. This is extended on a global level – fusing local design with a Japanese influence.

“Support local for strategic sustainability.” This sentiment is at the crux of her practice. Amanda has, and continues to foster relationships with local crafters, focusing on developing skills in a collaborative process. All the designers supplying The Space are required to produce their work within the borders of the country.

Twenty years ago, in February of 1996, Amanda Laird Cherry opened its doors. Initially supplying to boutiques scattered around South Africa and the Durban Designer Emporium it now boasts a global reach.

Amanda’s latest Spring/Summer 2016 collection pays homage to this impressive feat and the coastal city from which it was birthed. Facets of Durban’s character were incorporated in the design – from mid-century man-made architecture to the hypnotism of undulating waves and graphic Zulu prints.

To celebrate two decades in the fashion industry she held a retrospective show of curated works. Ramp collections from ALC and Amanda Laird Cherry were displayed at the Durban Art Gallery. In this reflective show, Amanda returned to the heart of the city in which she and her brand began. Rooted in seminal narratives – capturing threads of South African culture. A commemorative full-circle.

SS16 Collection – Photography by Roger Jardine

SS16 Collection – Photography by Roger Jardine

SS16 Collection – Photography by Roger Jardine

SS16 Collection – Photography by Roger Jardine

11 January 2017
DJ Lag Steps Up

When asked to describe the sound of the Gqom subgenre, DJ Lag doesn’t hesitate- ‘it’s raw and hype.’ Since the beginning of this decade, it has become the defining electronic music to come from Durban and it’s surrounding townships, like Lag’s home Clermont. Gqom takes SA production to a new extreme of brooding intensity. It’s powerful enough to command attention when blaring 130 bpm at dangerous volumes on public transport. But it has enough nuance to reward intimate listening on cellphone headphones. Coming from an isiZulua word for drum, Gqom really does sound like a huge monolith being hurled onto a heaving dancefloor. Despite its popularity, it still remains an underground status with little overt media or radio support in South Africa.

But such potency has also given it an international cachet. DJ Lag himself has recently been featured on UK music websites eagerly awaiting the release of his self-titled debut EP. Coming out on the London label Goon Club All Stars, it will be backed up with a tour of Asia and Europe. Ahead of the new release, he has dropped the spine tingling ‘16th Step ‘as a teaser. Like so much Gqom it makes you want to dance, while having an unmistakable menace. The beat sounds like something horrific scratching at your door on a stormy night. Underneath runs a synthesiser reminiscent of a murderous robot haunting you through the flooded streets of future Durban, after the city has been lost to rising sea levels. It builds and builds and then suddenly drops out completely. In a masterful stroke, Lag leaves in a block of absent sound. Just as you think it’s over, it suddenly drives in again, going off into an unexpected but welcome conclusion. The step on this song is that feeling when you are about to fall asleep, but are awaken with a jolt as you imagine losing your footing. A sure-fire way to feel awake.

And he has been honing this craft since a young age. His first introduction to recording was at age 12 when he went with his rapper cousin to a recording studio. Seeing a producer at work making beats immediately hooked him in. It was a few years before he could get his own PC, but as soon as he did he started exploring the possibilities offered by Fruity Loops. His own musical progression is like a Darwinian microcosm of the evolution of Gqom itself. Beginning with hip hop he, then slid into kwaito. He then took a detour into a percussive house style. But hearing Gqom pioneers Naked Boyz for the first time locked him onto the deep new style that was breaking out in KZN around the turn of the decade. Since then, he has built up an impressive back catalogue of production, which keep the drive of Gqom while adding in deeper shades of nuance and sophistication.

His EP comes at an interesting time for the style, as it is also sprouting new offshoots, such as the more pop orientated Gqom trap and it’s house cousin, Sghhubu. In the early days of its coalescing into a distinct style, Gqom was characterized by a certain mystery. Young producers would put up songs fresh from being factory tested at intense backyard parties onto file sharing sites, without clear attribution or titles. This created issues of plagiarism, with rivals claiming credit for others tracks. As a result, artists at the styles forefront like Lag and Rudeboyz are taking control of their public image. It’s also a way to grow the genre by highlighting discographies, which the audience can watch evolve. With his cinematic, emotional style DJ Lag is poised to become an internationally appreciated South African pioneer.

21 October 2016
In search of a new Master: Selloane Moeti’s portraits through dreamscape

By far one my favourite thing to have learned is the concept of an African Epistemology. Where Epistemology seeks to understand how it is that we know, an African suggests that our understandings occur from a contextual basis. For me an African epistemology is about realising the very limits of our understanding as opposed to just defining it in terms of a universal one. It’s the act of engaging in the unknown as a part of a method of refining our knowledge.

The same cannot be denied within the arts. Having recently encountered Matisse at the Standard bank Art Gallery in Johannesburg I could see why this man would be considered a “master” within the Western arts. His style is one where form is not limited to the line and the artist relies on the unknown and unseen viewer’s imagination to fill in the images with the limited lines and shapes. His work can be seen re-incarnated in the present as that feeling of confusion that the lay person get when they utter the “but I could have easily made that myself”. Yet what does it mean when this very master or revolutionary figure in western art would, like Picasso and other western masters, find themselves influenced by the racially reduced to – as Primitive art form that for me personify an understanding of an African epistemology.

Coming across the works of Selloane Moeti I see an element of an African epistemology at play. Her work represents those works that, like the African artists before her, would influence the so-called masters of our time. Her works are bold in their representation of basic forms that coerce the viewer to fill in the blank spaces. If one chooses to take up the politically contested argument over what makes her work African its answers must not be because of where the artist was born. Its answer must look at the very method one in which she becomes a conduit of those unseen forces that guide us. For Selloane:

“It is a collective connection of dreams, symbols, lost love and social incidents that I have experienced. All of which is derived on how my late grandmother had a spiritual gift of healing through prayer, my mother has a gift of premonitions through dreams and that has been passed down to me. Through visual art is how I’m healing and regain that power. I am mourning in life, the parallel of life and death”

Having graduated from the Durban University of Technology in 2009 she majored in painting and sculpture. She started off as a practicing artist but then would soon later pursue a career in fashion, styling various brands and musicians. Yet in her latest body of works she continues with her painting. She is currently creating content for her 2017 portfolio entry for application into her next degree.

Her current works include self-portraits, painting series, documented photographs and monologue video. Selloane includes images of dark figures in her works. They are malformed in such a way that they seem as if they are about to shape shift into new forms. These figures in their malleability seem to contain as sense of becoming but one that is locked in the dark shadow of oneself.

“Using my spiritual journey and myself as a subject, I have recently gone through a cleansing ceremony, where my body gets transformed to a conduit of my ancestors”.

Her work is one that is deeply personal, an act of catharsis as she uses the painting medium to reflect on and engage with her journey and who she is to become. It is one that pays homage to those who have passed and acknowledged that they still have a n important role in our lives as living and flourishing beings.

A striking feature in her images is the use of clay and It features prominently across her work. Used in her photographs as a cover for her face but also used in her paintings to represent the face. The clay seems to be the tool used in her spiritualism as she journeys through her different states of being. From a woman in the markets in her photographs, stoic, beautiful, manoeuvring herself through the see of life concretely physical form.

“The use of ibomvu (red clay) as a medium is predominant in all my work. Ibomvu in South African culture is used for different purposes on people for physical and spiritual cleansing purification. It is always evident in my dreams, I am always smothered in it or walking in
masses of its mud.”

In her paintings the clay holds this malleable form that holds together that which wants to dissipate and transform. We find ourselves in such a social crisis of wanting to break free but being locked in a painful reality. Its symptoms are acts of protest and a search for new modes of being. Examples of Such modes include the alternative to capitalism where education is free or a place where black lives actually matter.

Selloan’s works speaks to the spiritual and unseen experience of this crisis. Where artists no longer seek the guidance of the old masters turning their gaze against the very intuitions that perpetuate their ideology. She like other creatives in her field are drawing their knowledge from an African and black self that is for me characteristic of an African epistemology. Maybe it is only through an African or even Black epistemology that we can only be able to pin point what this self is. It is a self in crisis, a self engaging with a materiality that would deny its existence under a white supremacist gaze but one in search of a self free from bondage of a material reality of a black self.

20 September 2016
The Beard magazine and a look into the archive of Durban’s cult subculture

Durban is a city that is constantly evacuated, reconstituted, and returned to; kids throw their lives into bags and haul pieces of themselves back-and-forth while trying to find their bigger-picture footing. Despite is sleepy façade, things aren’t anchored in the same ways as other cityscapes; there’s an ephemeral and meteoric quality to the things that happen there… a strange landscape of abandon, interspersed with the flares of often-undocumented explosions. So I guess you can’t really tell unless you find yourself in it; something like that old beach-front swing-boat which goes nowhere to onlookers but from the seat, moves with such an incredible speed, it makes you think your head might explode. Sometimes the details get blurry, because everyone still carries traces of that delirious dizzy, but The Beard online magazine was definitely established somewhere towards the end of MySpace days; when gigs still had flyers and people had to phone each other to know what was happening. Justin ‘Sweat Face’ McGee had returned to Durban from Cape Town – where he had lined up an assistant-photographer job – with the intention of collecting the rest of his life to take with him. But things turned out differently when he snapped up a fairly random photography opportunity and then that portfolio was circulated, landing him further jobs. Based on the strength of his work, McGee rapidly escalated, within a couple of weeks, from ‘assistant-photographer’ to ‘photographer’ and so decided to stick around in Durban where he co-created The Beard with Dan Maré.

So, McGee found himself back in his home-town but not really knowing, or wanting to know, any of the people that were still around. Back then, digital photography was still on the upswing and he used to walk the city, armed with his first digital camera, which he ended up totally destroying trying to learn everything he could. The lens gave him the privilege of getting to look at the world and to document the visual landscape around him and so he would mission, sometimes from his place on the Esplanade to the beachfront and back, exploring and shooting as much as possible and embracing the format’s lack of turnaround time in order to develop his photographic eye. He tells me how he used to love getting in-between people, going unnoticed and capturing really dynamic, natural moments. Later on, when he became slightly infamous for proclaiming “I’ll make you famous” on the party scene, there was something of that same impulse- how he could put people at ease and get them to look really great through unselfconscious and un-posed images. McGee was always pushing himself and his craft and, wanting to stretch the possibilities of photography even further, started making digital collages of Durban, with each image working-in up to three or four hundred layers. This work inspired the format of The Beard, which subverted the linear point-and-click, scroll-down websites of the time by reading as one long, expressive collage, stretching horizontally across the screen and embedding posts within the visuals as a digital treasure-hunt. Like the scenes it documented and bridged, there was nothing sterile about it. Everything was frantic creation for the sake of creation, blazing from multiple spaces, in a city not totally bogged-down by the dynamics of hierarches of cool or profession or whatever. Because we’re going back here, the media landscape was massively different and The Beard was online before that kind of publishing was really prevalent. No one had cell phone cameras and selfies wasn’t a term yet. I guess this lent itself to the unrestrained and immodest energy of the time because no one really felt surveilled; it was all about the immediacy of the moment. There was also maybe something about Durban, where a strange sense of freedom developed because creativity wasn’t so economised and people often aimed to move out; nobody was worried about stepping on toes or being unpolished or judged- if you didn’t know what to do, you could just make shit up.

Being slightly adrift in a somewhat unrecognisable home-town, McGee used his camera to bite into some of the scenes and spaces that he wanted to be in, defining himself and his practice through the process. Cue the fashion kids who were studying from Brickfield Road at the time and who were also engaging in self-fdefinition; Ravi Govender, Jamal Nxedlana, Dino Perdica, and Harold Nxele. Feeling frustrated with what they saw as irrelevant information, being delivered in an uninspiring, traditional and restrictive environment, they began to rebel against the institution- radically redefining their own curriculum through an embodied practice. This began a powerful network of then informal collaboration and inspiration, where ideas and concepts were deciphered in accordance with their own realities and the ways that they had begun to live their lives. Upset Fridays emerged as a way to politicise fashion, disturbing and disrupting the authoritative limitations of that space by dressing provocatively and wearing their own definitions of what fashion could be. They took the tools they were given and used these to subversively dismantle; taking a social-psychology perspective on fashion, they would aim to destabilise and create uncomfortability in order to evoke a response, extending and blurring the boundaries between fashion and art. They already had tons of paint to work with, because they had figured out where to get the best vintage stuff in Durban. Ravi and Jamal had already been stocking some spaces through a label called Washed Up Nicely and knew that you could get the best international stuff- Mikey Mouse sweaters, Nu Rave gear and Canadian and American brands- at The Workshop piles, and all the local stuff- Jonsson’s overalls, old Natal swim jackets, 5FM, Checkers and political party T-shirts – at the hospice shops and the Victoria Street Market piles. Their immersion within those spaces, where multiple influences were running through alternative economies, and the rebellious desire to create new realities coalesced in an aesthetic that embraced the cultural value of Durban and that took all of it in, looked at all the different people operating in those spaces- the Gogos doing the selling, the Pantsula dancers, the construction workers- and recognised all of their individual style languages as valuable and unique articulations. So that Durban fashion crew took street-style, as well as their own versions of anti-fashion and (un)Fashion, and merged these with high-fashion; picking up on international subcultures and then projecting these through their own South African lens. They had originally been inspired by OGs like Puma and George Nzimande (aka George Gambino) and concepts like busting the funk but began to feel like they were surpassing this through their highly conceptual approach and so, when they linked-up with McGee and the platform his camera offered, it was unhindered and explosive.

All of this was happening while the pub kids were refusing to let The Winston Pub die. Burn had moved from Umbilo Road and the space had emptied out, but Skollie Jols revived it and the band scene was thriving. Those were the days before the come-down, when all the boys had tons of hair, Blue was car-guarding, and Farrah could beat Meaty One at the drinking competitions. Sibling Rivalry were still jamming, Fruits and Veggies had its original line-up (Darren, Purity, Sweet Lu and Loopy), and most kids could bust-out a Big Idea track without thinking. The park had shut down but there was still the lot and the kids rocked it hard. Everyone made out with everyone else… especially the guys with each other. There was the creation of an alternative home for all of the misfits and reprobates, and because all of them were already in it so deep, they just kept on going until it blew-up as an untameable beast. If someone felt comfortable walking into that chaos and actually hanging out, they were welcomed. There was Bean Bag, Jamesons, The Bat Centre, and The Willowvale Hotel but because the city didn’t really offer the alternatives kids very much, everyone made their own spaces. It was all about uncensored affront and everyone was creating; the comic book kids were making comics, the punks were making music and the poets were busting out at the Life Check battles. McGee had starting going out with Illana Welman (aka Lani Spice) and JR (aka Dr Pachanga) was staying with him at the time. Graf artists like OPTONE, 2kil, and Fiyaone were kicking about and DJ Creepy Steve was just limbering up. Sweat Face started using his camera to infiltrate the pub space and everything just exploded in a really viral, organic way… different scenes were bridged and it created something really unique and dynamic, where everyone took bits-and-pieces from each other. All the kids spoke their own languages and code-switched until it was almost unrecognisable to outsiders. Everything was a collaged and remixed inside-joke, embedded with multiple meanings; get-in-the-car, zero-to-hero, trawling, going on tour, pop-art, free elephant rides, supporting life, pikey. Pastel Heart had just hit the scene and was bursting-at-the-seams with pure expression in his babbles and clicks- everyone loved him, even if they couldn’t understand him, because they were all on their own vernaculars.

Because the scene was so small, it operated as strange extended family; no one fitted in, but everyone was somehow outside, together. If immediate families were around, kids would often subvert these structures, heading to friends’ places in subdued attire only to switch-it-up and hit the night in camis and capes, strut in Mary Janes and sparkle-pants. The Beard documented some of this subculture and also offered a platform for the Sunday Workshop, where the fashion kids would take turns setting conceptual creative-briefs. They’d all get styled-up and head out to shoot or they’d invite friends over to Sweat’s spot and party and make DIY backgrounds and sets… just curating and shooting as much as possible in a totally unfiltered environment. The images and styles they created pre-empted a lot of today’s youth cultural crews, with the international being reflected through the local. Everything was reimagined; Versace prints, Balenciaga futurism, and Nu Rave were all mixed-in with visuals of the South African political, Vaalie vibes, Sangomas and Kondais… and it was all about Durban spaces. The Beard was online before anyone was really aware of the internet’s possibilities, so when Ravi, Jamal, Dino and Harald would hit fashion events in other cities, and hear people talking about the Durban scene through the images McGee had captured, it was one of the first times they realised the internet’s potential for creating connections beyond the IRL. Creativity was exponentially amplified because everyone one was pushing and feeding-off-of each other’s energy. Nothing was precious and ideas were fast; no one was saying lit… it was basically cult. That whole crazy-blur-of-a-moment set a precedent for who McGee would become as a photographer and incubated approaches and relationships that continue today through collectives like CUSS Group and Bubblegum Club. No one came out unscathed and some of the kids kind of lost it when they realised that the world isn’t made for such big living- I guess hostile hierarchies were easy to forget when everything around them was their own lavish creation. But the originality of those times is totally unshakeable and although most have scattered, they’re still out there, carving out strange spaces and definitely making a scene… stay weird kids, xo

The Mag

The Nights

The Fashion

21 July 2016
Inandawood- Grassroots Horror

Inanda is a sprawling township outside Durban, which at different points in its history was the home of both Mathama Ghandi and John Dube, the first president of the ANC. And, as the new short film Inandawood documents, it is now a home for independent filmmaking. A network of amateur directors and actors, centred around Vukani Ndebele, have been building a pulp library of low-budget productions which feature stories of rampant Satanists, shape-shifting serial killers and brazen gangsters.

When a young Ndebele was confronted by the lack of film-making opportunities around him, he decided to do it for himself. As shown in the documentary, his first major project was Thomas is Back, centred on a zombie returning to the township to wreak havoc. The film blew up through word of mouth, with copies being circulated throughout the country. The success propelled him into even more projects. And rather than copying Hollywood horror tropes, the films take their lurid inspiration from local mythology and urban legends. His artistic example has encouraged others in Inanda and surrounding townships like Umlazi and Kwa Mashu to release their own work, inspired by his no-budget approach of using amateur crews and available resources.

But this no frills approach doesn’t indicate that Inanda filmmakers are just out to make a quick buck. As Inandawood clearly demonstrates, these works are inspired by a pure passion to entertain, put together by creative people with no direct access to the infrastructure of movie production. The short film is reminiscent of acclaimed feature documentary American Movie, which focuses on aspiring horror director Mark Borchardt. Both works are tributes to the power of film, as they highlight artists making their work in the face of difficulties and restrictions. Along with documenting a regional scene, Inandawood is an innovative work in its own right, edited with floating text and distorted sound effects. This playful style conveys the gritty enthusiasm of its source material perfectly. Despite considerable resources, there are far too many SA movies which reflect a dour, social realist perspective which seems uninterested in the possibilities of film as a medium. Unsurprisingly, they have failed to connect with either local or international audiences. By showing what can be done with little resources, these films reveal that it’s not about money. It’s about imagination. At the same time, the KZN scene has an authenticity which can’t be replicated by bigger budget works, revealing both the realties and the nightmares of the people who watch it with stark clarity.

19 July 2016
Zakifo Muzik Festival 2016: A reflective photo-story by Robyn Perros

This photo-story captures the blissfully imperfect moments of experimentation. The unedited images by Durban-based photo-journalist, writer and artist, Robyn Perros, documents some grit and much grain of one of South Africa’s newest and most diverse ‘afro-futuristic’ music festivals on colour film. The 2016 Zakifo Muzik Festival took place in Durban from 27-29 May 2016 and this year Perros put down her pen and decided to doodle in the dark with her Pentax K1000 to capture some of it

[All images and text courtesy of Robyn Perros]

“You have the worst dance moves I have ever seen,” a drunk friend yelled over the smooth whisky voice of Vusi Mahlasela pouring out from the stage in front of us. I watched my limbs drift like lost kelp through an ocean of lazers. My joints pop like firecrackers on a tarmac. And my muscles defy the restricting skin above them, as my body navigated through the dark like a bat. He was right. I did have the worst dance moves we had ever seen.

He continued to stare, as I smiled a little wider and jumped a little harder, shaking the palm trees from the Kwa-Zulu concrete. Unscathed and unashamed – I continued to dance – hoping that my worst dance moves would pierce his memory like a spear and stay there forever. For I would rather be seen at my worst, than not seen at all. I would rather be remembered for the real, the imperfect and true, than not remembered at all.

In a way, this tiny isolated moment of innocent inhibition sums up my experience of Durban’s Zakifo Muzik Festival. In a way, it sums up today’s modern youth culture. In a way, perhaps it could sum up everything if we had the patience to truly see.

Whether we admit it or not, we all want to be seen. Whether it’s on a wall, on a catwalk, in a book or on a stage. We all want to be remembered. It seems people today will do whatever it takes to be seen and not forgotten. But I would rather be truly seen and remembered by a select few, than merely looked at and recalled by the masses. With the small crowds present at Zakifo this year, I hope the festival shared the same sentiments as I.

I saw a small portion of the festival through a 50mm lens of a faulty film camera my step-father had given me. It’s my favourite camera. It’s the one I shoot the things I want to remember on. It’s the one I remember every shot planned so carefully. It’s the one that rips my heart out each time a roll of film comes out blank. It’s the one that makes every fleeting, mundane, imperfect moment unforgettable for me.

Our greatest archive is our own memory. It’s our internal internet, our personal bookshelf, our most three-dimensional photo album. With so many reviews, news, and daily media flashfloods, remembering it all is an impossible feat. So I choose to keep my memories and own interpretations close. For they are mine and ultimately, for me alone, do they truly matter.

I will remember Zakifo as the time I had the opportunity to stand front row and inhale some of the most remarkable musicians in the world, like Songhoy Blues, Vaudou Game, Inna Modja, Blitz The Ambassador, Maya Kamaty, Vusi Mahlasela and Kid Franscescoli.

I will remember it as the time I was able to get out of the surf, and walk across the street to listen to some of the best music in Africa – with the Indian Ocean still sticky on my skin.

I will remember it as the time I was young and beautiful and danced like the world was going to end.

I will remember it for the people. The ones that make me proud to be human.

I will remember it for all the images I shot, even the dozens that didn’t come out.

Even though Zakifo may not have been perfect; like each photograph and memory is for me, it is important. Festivals like Zakifo should be remembered. Even if only by a few. For it is just the start of something new in Africa, something positive in the world. Something to be treasured, something to be seen.

And when I see it again in the future, I will say to myself ‘yes, I was there at the beginning.’ And each time I recall those moments. The ones where I was truly present, truly myself and truly moved – my dear friend, not only will you see me dance, you will see me fly.

21 June 2016