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She has frequent skirmishes on social media and a catalogue that will leave most feeling inadequate. Phumlani S Langa talks to Simphiwe Dana about her new album, rumours of retirement and the toxic idiosyncrasies of men.
It has been five years since we’ve received new music from Simphiwe Dana, but the outspoken singer, songwriter and actor returns with her fifth studio album, Bamako. Her career spans 16 years of world-class jazz and Afro-soul, and she has been one of the best to run in this lane locally. We speak with the beloved pride of Butterworth, Eastern Cape, who unpacks her new album, her beef with South African men and the rumours that this album could be her last.
A cagey songbird
Many creative people might be struggling with isolation during this period of social distancing owing to the Covid-19 coronavirus. This has been the case for Dana, who is observing the lockdown with her family. “The cabin fever is real, but I’m lucky to be surrounded by family. We are coping as best we can,” she says.
#Trending spoke to Nduduzo Makhathini a few weeks ago about the perils of album sales during the lockdown. He was unfazed, but Dana is a little bit worried, especially as she is quite the live performer. “Yes, there are concerns, but also an understanding that the digital age is here in full force. Which is a challenge as our industry may not be ready to go full-on digital, but also an opportunity as digital opens up new markets when done right.”
This symbol for mercurial artistry doesn’t shy away from confrontation, and on more than one occasion has taken South African men to task for their dismal treatment of women and children. Just this week she trended on Twitter for calling local men gold diggers. “South African women generally date broke men. And we elevate them,” she charged.
- Dana has four SA Music Awards, including the highly coveted Album of the Year Award, which she won in 2007 for her release of The One Love Movement on Bantu Biko Street.
- Dana is Xhosa, from the amaMpondo tribe. She was born in Gcuwa (Butterworth) in the Eastern Cape and raised in the town of Lusikisiki.
- Nokunyamezela (2018) was a song Dana wrote for the late struggle stalwart Winnie Mandela before the latter passed away.
- Her latest album, Bamako, was recorded in Mali.
- Bamako, the largest city in Mali, is the home city of Salif Keita.
- The release of Bamako was delayed owing to the Covid-19 coronavirus outbreak.
- Bamako could be considered a world music album.
- There have been two singles released from Bamako – Usikhonzile and Uzokhala.
Explaining the reception her tweets got, she said: “I really wasn’t surprised as this is not my first foray into these kinds of topics. South African men keep showing themselves to be unrepentant pertaining to how they hold women in contempt.” Her previous release was a celebration of her tenth year in the music industry, a compilation of some of her most bountiful creations. Her career has been one that will be seared into the memories of anyone with a taste for uncontainably unique art, however, the past few years have not been without difficulty.
“The past five years have been tough, both financially and emotionally. It may be that they have been the hardest in my career so far, but we take everything with a dollop of grace.” There were rumours swirling that Bamako would be her last album as the music indusSIMPHIWE’S swan song?try was not proving to bear fruit for the award-winning musician. She told the Herald Live that she was giving thought to hanging up her mic after this release. Is there any truth to this?
“I don’t know what the future holds, so I can neither confirm nor deny if this will be my last album. I find the politics of music exhausting, especially in South Africa.” If the rumours are true, then Dana has chosen to go out in a memorable manner. Bamako was created in collaboration with Afro-pop and jazz sensation Salif Keita from Mali. He’s a big deal and a predator in the studio. Dana says her long-time label and vault of local talent, Gallo, played a big role in lining this up.
Earlier this week, news broke about the piracy of music, which has spiked during the lockdown. I ask her if this is of concern for someone such as her, who has just released an album. “I’m not really sure what I could do about it. With the advent of the digital age, piracy was bound to skyrocket. It may be that the fight against piracy is lost and companies have to find creative ways around it.” Her thoughts of bowing out are fixated on sustainability, which is sad to hear from a top-tier artist. The lockdown has intensified pressures on musicians, with organisations such as the SABC not helping much (see page 3), with their lacklustre approach to playing locally created music on air.
“The industry desperately needs a financial bailout. There have been fewer live shows over the years. It seems the industry can no longer support musicians.” With her mind looking towards greener pastures, our focus shifts to her latest album.
Simphiwe Dana
4.5/5
Available on all streaming platforms
Bamako, the title track, begins with jovial strings played rapidly, and feels Fela Kuti-esque as choral-like vocals ring out. An earthy sound is opted for, with guitar licks sounding as though they’re being played with Africa and Spain in mind. It sounds more like an interlude than a track; it’s short, which is surprising, given that it’s the lead track.
Bye Bye Naughty Baby has this Andrews Sisters thing going with the vocals; not much of a beat, just echoing voices looped rhythmically. Dana’s vocals are fitted with echoing sound effects that leave a lingering sense of melancholy. The weirdness of this song is transfixing. It sounds like something Martians would listen to, but is beautiful in a way that doesn’t make much sense.
Gwegweleza lets Dana go toe to toe with drums and nothing much else. Her voice is like molasses and yet it’s tender when needed and ferocious as the song elevates to a cross between dub and more traditional African music. It’s a progressive movement that changes to a tempo governed by a beat signature very similar to house. It keeps alternating throughout in what is the second straight highlight.
On Kumnyama she rages against the darkness with a light and skippy instrumental. Our maestro, Salif Keita, doesn’t let up with the guitar licks with African accents. Choral chants whisk you away to a Savanna of sounds that at times boast features reminiscent of the almighty high notes of Rebecca Malope. Dana aims her voice in a direction and it goes there as if directed by satellite navigation. She engages the cruise control on Mama Was A Kitchen Girl, a funky take or version of the struggle anthem, perhaps. The beats are a delightful cacophony of daring instrumentation.
The pair demonstrate a full comprehension of musical fundamentals, but with the abandon of senseis of sound. Every song makes it difficult to move on to the next one, either because you’re baffled at the arrangement you just heard or because the experience of the last song is luring you back for a repeat play. This album, 13 tracks deep, cocoons you from the world, which then reappears and melts away as one track perfectly flows into the next.
The songs get longer as the album progresses. Keita joins Dana on Masibambaneni, and that’s what the two do. They help each other through this coastal-feel song. Dana began work on this album last year, and this happens to be the only song on it that was recorded this year. Mkhonto sounds like it’s still in a different era, a time of struggle. It is pure a cappella, with pain wafting off her words as she leads the backing vocals who answer her sorrowfully. Thoughts of Mbongeni Ngema’s efforts on the legendary Sarafina will not be distant for you as this plays.
Explaining her new piece, Dana says: “Kumnyama and You Keep Calling are the two singles that have been released and really stand out for me. The album generally deals with relationship issues plus social commentary.”
You wouldn’t be able to tell from the music on Bamako, but Dana says she is really enjoying the work of artists such as Ami Faku and Samthing Soweto. Proving how seasoned she is, you can’t hear anything but Dana on this new album, although she has an affinity for newer sounds. The album is not shaped in a compilation of the hot flavours out now; it’s unapologetically her style and not some cheap knock-off.
The New-Age archetype of Miriam Makeba, with Keita by her side, proves to be as creatively cunning as ever, controlled and emotive, but their approaches to music are probably not alike at all. This woman makes the kind of music we might be too ungrateful to fully enjoy. She probably carved out the lane for artists who do well overseas, which I suspect is true, and yet here she is at the presuppose of retirement.
This album sounds like a collectors’ item. and if it is to be Dana’s last dance then what a dance it is! It is the flourish at the end of a fruitful career. She adds confidently: “Frankly, there isn’t one song that belongs on the B side.” That’s a disclaimer if ever there was one. The Dana seal of authenticity is stamped all over this project, which should be in your collection by the time you’re done with this.
