Musicians rally to preserve the soul of South African jazz

12 March 2017 - 02:00 By Tsepang Tutu Molefe
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Feya Faku, Romy Brauteseth, Kesivan Naidoo and Nduduzo Makhathini give it all they've got in a Jazz in the Native Yards session in Gugulethu, Cape Town.
Feya Faku, Romy Brauteseth, Kesivan Naidoo and Nduduzo Makhathini give it all they've got in a Jazz in the Native Yards session in Gugulethu, Cape Town.
Image: Supplied

Jazz in the Native Yards is an initiative intent on preserving a great South African legacy, writes Tsepang Tutu Molefe

They say it began in the back yards of township matchbox houses. Men blew horns and banged drums against oppressive laws while they got merry from illegally drinking the white man's liquor. Women hummed high-pitched melodies to bring down the walls of segregation, and played banned music. Soon cries for freedom and the sound of gunshots were infused into the music, and created a single tune known as South African jazz.

After decades of exile, pimping its chops in many a foreign land - only to come back home and settle in posh and exclusive venues in the cities - jazz is slowly migrating back to its roots: the township.

The back yards of the township, to be precise, at least in the vision of Koko Kalashe and Luvuyo Kakaza, founders of monthly jazz gatherings in Gugulethu, Cape Town, known as Jazz in the Native Yards.

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They say the idea behind the initiative is to preserve the true legacy of jazz.

"The concept is to set people in their back yards, and also challenge the perception that townships are places where you live until you can get out of there," says Kalashe.

The Jazz in the Native Yards philosophy has three main pillars:

• One, a space where artists are able to communicate the jazz language to their followers while creating life-changing experiences.

• Two, a vehicle to drive township experiences and create an authentic way to bring people from anywhere in the world to the township, away from the tourist-in-the-zoo kind of approach.

• Three, taking jazz to the people where it really belongs, away from city spaces that convert it into an elitist affair.

"We want to get the little kids in the hood to be inspired, and people in general. The question should always be: what are you doing in your community?"

Kwa-Sec, the venue, is a block away from the cool kids at Mzoli's, the now world-famous shisanyama. Jazz in the Native Yards has hosted local and international jazz craftsmen and -women. A new season began last month with Mozambique-born drummer Frank Paco.

There are big plans for the year ahead. This season opens post the closure of Cape Town's popular jazz venues Tagore's and Straight, No Chaser, which positions the initiative at the centre stage of Cape jazz.

WHAT TO EXPECT FROM A JAZZ IN THE NATIVE YARDS SESSION

We gathered, followers of an obscure revolution in our black berets and vintage coats, for a Jazz in the Native Yards session* in Gugulethu, Cape Town.

The wagon was already in motion when I took my seat. Feya Faku shook his horn and disgorged liquid globs, then proceeded to blow. Above his grey vintage cap, I sighted a halo, and every time he blew into the horn, it glittered.

At the centre of the stage stood a man in a black jacket and a khaki military cap. In his arms he held a guitar as if it were a bazooka. The right side of my brain immediately gave him the name Guitar George. The man was in a war, and the throbbing chords invited the audience's ears to go with him.

A companion beside me threw a question. I gave him a very short response and deprived him of any eye contact. I couldn't miss a moment.

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Behind a set of drums sat a chubby guy with bouncy hair. There was a moment when he opened with a solo and I felt the snare bouncing against the walls of my senses.

The man on piano had a huge beard, a beard the size of a biblical prophet's. Now and then his face would be plastered with a big smile, and my friend said: "I have never seen a happier musician."

The upright bass stood against a woman in jeans. She held the instrument close. She didn't play it, she made love to it. When she did a solo, the upright groaned from deep in its belly.

Feya Faku spoke of the forgotten elders, and of Vusi Pikoli's daughter - how her story was similar to that of his cousin who went into exile and never came back. A stranger behind me whispered in my ear "that's a heavy connotation". I agreed, only in my head. I ignored him.

A loud voice shouted from the back "khawubethe Feya!" (hit it, Feya!).

Sometimes it is near impossible to scribe those musical moments, to convert them to word form. But Feya Faku gave more and the horn took it. His tonality and the high-pitched colour of his blowing created a democratic vibe.

The music bug bit a young woman so hard she could no longer contain herself. She got up and busted some moves, defying jazz audience protocol. When the band switched the number to abstract mode, she retired and her moves were reduced to just clapping.

Once the band was done, the crowd shouted, demanding more. The musicians took their positions at the crowd's orders, and once again the music occupied the space as if it lived there.

* Starring Feya Faku as Himself, Romy Brauteseth as The Upright Bass Lover, Kesivan Naidoo as The Drummer with bouncy hair, Nduduzo Makhathini as The Pianist with a beard like a biblical prophet's, and Reza Khota as Guitar George.

• Check out Jazz in the Native Yards' Facebook page for details of upcoming events.

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