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Nazar’s second album, Demilitarize follows his remarkable 2020 debut Guerrilla, which was released just as Covid started to lock down the world. That first album reprocessed kuduro music from Angola with rough textures, field recordings and media clips, re-telling Nazar's personal story of the civil war that exiled his family in Europe, while his father, a rebel General, fought a losing battle in the jungle back home.
After Guerrilla, and in the early throes of a new and important romance, Nazar was hit by Covid and with a weakened immune system, the latent tuberculosis he'd incubated while living in Angola, took over his body and left him seriously ill for a year. Reckoning with mortality and the flowering of new love are the two things that motivated this album, turning the ‘rough kuduro’ of Guerrilla inside out.
Like his debut, this is a deep sound world, but in contrast to its grit and realness, Demilitarize is genuinely dreamy. The arc of the album describes shedding the armour of trauma and surrendering to this new situation. A constant and unexpected aspect of Demilitarize is Nazar's gentle, submerged vocal. Insistent and mantra-like, it’s like a cross between Elisabeth Frazer, Arthur Russell and Frank Ocean, and the music is fragile and opaque in response.
Nazar says - 'With the album being introspective, I didn't seek to capture sounds from real places to enhance it’s universe like on Guerilla. I wanted to make it almost metaphysical like creating sci-fi, with classic cyberpunk anime ‘Ghost In The Shell’ being a core inspiration.' The rhythms of kuduro are still here, but move around his voice like fish around a swimmer. The precise sound design on Demilitarize illuminates from different angles. Chords spiral, ripple and shoot through the beats giving tracks the loosest of settings. Songs disassemble and vocals float off-centre.
Demilitarize insists you zoom in, listen closely, tune into Nazar's rare vibration. Let it overwhelm you, while paying close attention.





Memphis Soul meets Township Jazz
Ground-breaking afro-rock and jazz with Memphis soul roots on this lost 1972 gem
Black Soul (LAB 4037) from 1972 is the third and last known album by The Anchors, a soul group originally formed in Johannesburg's Alexandra township in 1968. Their first two albums, Soul Upstairs (CYL 1001) from 1969 and Everything (CYL 1008) from 1971, were issued on Teal's City Special label alongside other prominent South African soul groups of the era like The Beaters, The Movers and The Flaming Souls.
On Black Soul, The Anchors undergo a notable shift, moving away from their early Memphis soul influences towards a pioneering African-driven sound. These changes laid the foundations for an emerging afro-fusion scene in the years to come from groups like Batsumi, The Drive and Harari.
Black Soul features a who's who of intergenerational musicians from great South African bands over the decades. In addition to Zacks Nkosi, the renowned bandleader of the Jazz Maniacs and long-time member of the African Swingsters in the 1940s and 50s, this album includes kwela star Little Kid Lex Hendricks, known for his Columbia recordings of the late 1950s; as well as Zack's son Jabu Nkosi who would go on to play with The Drive, Roots and Sakhile; and Banza Kgasoane later a member of The Beaters, Harari and then Mango Groove.
Now remastered for its first release since the original 1972 pressing, this lost gem offers a revealing glimpse into the evolution of South African music during a transformative era.












“When the mbira is played, it brings the two worlds together, the world of our ancestors and the world of today.” Ephat Mujuru (1950-2001)
Ephat Mujuru exemplifies a unique generation of traditional musicians in Zimbabwe. Born under an oppressive colonial regime in Southern Rhodesia, his generation witnessed the brutality of the 1970s liberation struggle, and then the dawn of independent Zimbabwe, a time in which African music culture—long stigmatized by Rhodesian educators and religious authorities—experienced a thrilling renaissance.
Ephat was raised in traditional Shona culture in a small rural village in Manicaland, near the Mozambique border. His grandfather and primary caretaker, Muchatera Mujuru, was a respected spirit medium, and master of the mbira dzavadzimu, a hand-held lamellophone used in Shona religion to make contact and receive council from deceased ancestors. There are many lamellophones in Africa, but none with the musical complexity and spiritual significance of the mbira dzavadzimu. Ephat’s first memories were of elaborate ceremonies, called biras that featured all-night music and dancing, millet beer, the sacrifice of oxen and a profound experience of connecting with ancestors. Under the tutelage of his grandfather, Ephat showed an early talent for the rigors of mbira training, playing his first possession ceremony when he was just ten years old.
But from the moment he entered school, Ephat experienced Rhodesian racism and cultural oppression. Nuns at his Catholic school told him that to play the mbira was “a sin against God.” Enraged by this, Ephat’s grandfather sent him to school in an African township near the capital of Salisbury (present-day Harare). By then, guerilla war was engulfing the country and Muchatera tragically became a victim of the violence, a devastating blow to the young musician. Lonely and alienated in the city, Ephat reached out to other mbira masters—Mubayiwa Bandambira, Simon Mashoko and an “uncle” Mude Hakurotwi.
In 1972 Ephat formed his first group, naming it for one of the most beloved Shona ancestors, Chaminuka. In the midst of the liberation struggle, mbira music became political. Singer and bandleader Thomas Mapfumo began interpreting mbira songs with an electric dance band, creating chimurenga (loosely “struggle”) music, named for the independence fighters.
Ephat and Chaminuka had their first success with the single “Guruswa.” Ephat once recalled, “We were talking about our struggle to free ourselves,” explained Ephat. “In ancient Africa, in the time of our ancestors, they had none of the problems we have today.” The problems he spoke of—subjugation, cultural oppression and mass poverty—were purely the results of colonization. “We wanted the place to be like it was, before colonization.”
The Rhodesians were defeated, but rather than return to the past, the nation of Zimbabwe was born and a new future unfolded. Ephat threw himself into the spirit of independence, helping to found the National Dance Company of Zimbabwe and becoming the first African music instructor at the formerly all-Western Zimbabwe College of Music. Ephat renamed his band Spirit of the People and recorded his first album in 1981, using only mbira, hand drums, hosho and singers. He sang of brotherhood, healing, and unity: crucial themes during a time when the nation’s two dominant ethnic groups, the Shona and the Ndebele, were struggling to reconcile differences.
Ephat’s band would eventually follow the popular trend and add electric instruments. But before that, he and Spirit of the People released two all-acoustic albums, and they may well be the most exciting and beautiful recordings he made in his career. Mbavaira, the second of these albums, was released in 1983. The title itself is not easy to translate. A Shona speaker with deep cultural knowledge observed that he could not find an exact English counterpart, but that it was “something like ‘chaos.’”
Mbavaira came out on Gramma Records, the country’s only label at the time. Gramma was still finding its way in a vastly changed music market. Guitar bands were ascendant and lots of new talent was emerging. As the independence years moved on, there would be fewer and fewer commercial mbira releases. But for the moment, Ephat had the required stature and reputation. Also, with the energy and drive we hear in these recordings, the album could easily rival the pop music of its day.
Ephat had long since mastered a large repertoire of traditional mbira songs and developed his own approach to arranging them. He had also become a gifted composer, although, with mbira music, it is often hard to draw a clear line between arranging and composing. Certain mbira pieces are like the 12-bar blues form or the “I Got Rhythm” changes in jazz: one can always create a new song from the existing template. But when you listen to Ephat’s feisty refrain on the song “Kwenda Mbire” (“Going to Mbire”), you just know it came from him. Ephat was a small, almost elfin, man, but he had the most exuberant personality and it comes through with particular clarity on that track.
An mbira ensemble typically uses at least two mbiras, playing separate interlocking parts so that it can be difficult to tell who is playing what. The sound becomes one. The only required percussion is the gourd rattle called hosho. It plays a very specific triplet rhythm and it has to be strong and solid to ensure that the mbira parts line up perfectly. Otherwise, the spirit will not come! The call-and-response vocals are also distinctive, a mix of hums and cries and melodic refrains, often punctuated by joyous ululations.
The tonality of a song like “Mudande” is moody, even a little dark. But the melodies that emerge have a remarkable way of turning wistfulness into merriment. The song title means “in Dande,” Dande being a remote northern region in Zimbabwe known for its inhospitable climate and deeply entrenched traditional culture.
Mbira is a healing music. Ephat once recalled, “When I was with Bandambira and Simon Mashoko, I was very surprised at what really made them happy. My grandfather was a very happy person. They had respect.” Ephant contrasted this happiness with the sour demeanor of the whites who condescended to him in Salisbury in his youth. “Somebody who wants to suppress another person is very unhappy.”
Within a few years after the release of Mbavaira, it and albums like it became harder to find in Zimbabwean record stores. Ephat adapted to the times and formed an electric band. “People were surprised,” he recalled. “They said, ‘Are you not going to play your mbira the way you did before?’ I said, I haven't changed anything. It's like me learning Shona and English, or French or Japanese. It's adding to the knowledge. The old one doesn't go away. When you buy a new jacket, you don't throw the old one away.” And indeed, when he began frequenting the UK and the United States, he would record more, mostly acoustic, albums.
But none of them have the particularly delicious energy of Spirit of the People in the first years of Zimbabwe’s independence. The final track on Mbavaira is a popular Shona hunting song, “Nyama Musango,” literally “Meat in the forest.” As elsewhere, Ephat does not sing the lead, leaving that role to his razor-voiced uncle, Mude Hakurotwi, with his mastery of timbres and rich repertoire of traditional vocables.
It was a tragedy to lose Ephat in 2001. He died from a heart attack shortly after landing at Heathrow Airport, en route to teach and perform in the U.S.. No doubt, he had much more to offer, for as he liked to say, “Mbira is like a sea. It's not a small river. You are getting into the big sea. So I try to show them the Indian Ocean, the Pacific, the Atlantic. What I'm trying to bring now to this music, through all the experiences I've had, is unity.” True unity has been difficult to achieve in Zimbabwe, given its combative history, but if anything could do the trick, this music might be the thing.
Banning Eyre
Senior Producer for Afropop Worldwide







'BATSUMI’s 1974 classic. Repressed at Pallas in Germany on 180g black vinyl. Cover printed on reverse board and includes printed inner sleeve with liner notes from Francis Gooding. Initial copies shipped with exclusive 30cm x 30cm print of Batsumi performing in 1974.
Batsumi is a masterpiece of spiritualised afro-jazz, and a prodigious singularity in the South African jazz canon. There is nothing else on record from the period that has the deep, resonant urgency of the Batsumi sound, a reverb-drenched, formidably focused pulse, underpinned by the tight-locked interplay of traditional and trap drums, and pushed on by the throb of Zulu Bidi’s mesmeric bass figures. The warm notes of Johnny Mothopeng’s guitar complete a soundscape that is at once closely packed with sonic texture and simultaneously vibrating with open space, and in whose shimmer and haze Themba Koyana and Tom Masemola soar. A sonorous echo emanating from an ancient well, reverberant with jazz ghosts and warmed by the heat of soul and pop, Batsumi is nothing short of revelatory.
Many groups from this period did not issue recordings at all, and Batsumi are unusual in even having left an official recorded legacy. Out of print since the 1970s, and never issued outside of South African in its entirety, Batsumi is a landmark South African jazz recording, and a key musical document of its time.'


“There are few musicians in jazz who can make you feel that essentially all is right in the world.” - The Times
On The Balance:
"Getting the balance just right has always been Ibrahim’s great strength, drawing from a source but keeping it fresh..." - Julian Cowley, The Wire
★★★★★ - The Evening Standard
"A modern master... his graceful playing leans on equal measures of force and restraint, of dense clusters and open space. Mr. Ibrahim’s music is dotted by satisfying, sometimes stunning, passages of repose." - Larry Blumenfeld, Wall Street Journal
Entitled 'The Balance', this project featured his long-time septet Ekaya, a line-up that he's been recording with since 1983. In this case, the album was recorded over the course of one day at London's RAK Studios last November. The lush horn lines, lilting melodies, and uplifting chord progressions are characteristic of Abdullah's own particular brand of Township Jazz. This is contrasted with various solo piano improvisations, which epitomise the nostalgic yet hopeful nature of Abdullah's musical spirit. Hence, The Balance.
In his own words, "We push ourselves out of our comfort zones. So that we can present to the listener our striving for excellence. So that we can engage with our listeners without any barriers of our ego. It's not jazz. For us, it's a process of transcending barriers."


“People don’t like Abdullah Ibrahim, they adore him, bestowing on him the devotion normally reserved for Nina Simone. When he plays, melodies tumble out effortlessly, as he slides from theme to theme like a laid-back South African reincarnation of Thelonious Monk.” - The Guardian
Taken from Abdullah Ibrahim’s summer 2023 sold-out headline date at London’s Barbican Centre, the new album “3” follows suit and is spread across two performances – the first is recorded without an audience ahead of the concert straight to analogue on a 1” Scully tape machine, which had previously been used by Elvis at the famous Memphis-based Sun Studios.
The second recording is taken from the evening’s performance itself with Ibrahim performing in a unique trio which includes Cleave Guyton (flute, piccolo, saxophone) who has performed alongside the likes of Aretha Franklin, Dizzy Gillespie, and Joe Henderson, as well as lauded bassist and cellist Noah Jackson, both of which are members of EKAYA and featured on Ibrahim’s Top 3 Billboard Jazz album “The Balance”




A spiritual soul inspired by nature, life and her experience living as an Afrikan woman, listening to muva of Earth is like planting your feet in rich warm soil; blending spiritual mantras and conscious lyricism, her music fusing afro-futurism, jazz, classical and more is truly transformative. Today, muva of Earth returns to announce her forthcoming debut project align with Nature’s Intelligence out 15th September via Brownswood Recordings and shares the gorgeous first single “heaven hear me above”. A soft and celestial spell lush with playful keys, delicate sparkling chimes and the harp expertly played by muva, this single explores her deep appreciation of being a unique and divine being. A meditative project centred around vulnerability, healing and an evolved way of thinking, on the forthcoming project across 8-tracks (also known as affirmations and chants) muva of Earth encourages empowerment and self expression.
Born as Davina Adeosun-Bright (Davina, which originates from the word ‘divinity’, Adeosun pronounced A-de-o-shu is yoruba tongue and means ‘Crown of Ọṣun’ which is a dedication to the orisha and goddess of the river, Ọṣun), muva of Earth was raised by Nigerian parents to be strong and independent. Making an impact early in her career, her live experience has already led her to open for Erykah Badu and Pink Siifu , as well as previous headline shows and plays at We Out Here, SuperSonicJazz , Cross The Tracks, XJazz! Festival and more. Previous singles including last year's “High” have garnered support from The Guardian, COLORS, Clash, Loud and Quiet, Hunger, RinseNotion, BBC 6Music, BBC Radio 1, NTS, and more.
Speaking on the single, muva of Earth says:
‘I wrote this song about what it means to be proud of what makes you unique,
A statement to the heavenly realms asking for understanding.
I may have hurt you in the past but I didn’t mean to,
I tried my best with the experience that i have,
Know my intentions are pure and that I am learning.
Love’



Already a multi award-winning and established artist, with a growing global reputation, Bokani Dyer’s newest record provides an intimate view into South Africa’s multifaceted people - and an opportunity for global connection through music.
Titled Radio Sechaba, the album continues Dyer’s creative journey of making rich and immersive music which places him amongst the new wave of South African jazz artists, including the likes of Siya Makuzeni and Nduduzo Makhathini. Throughout the 15-tracks, Dyer’s multi-faceted influences permeate the set of original songs, resulting in a rewarding listening experience..
“This is the first album of mine that is really drawing on all my influences and putting them into one thing,” says Dyer of the music on Radio Sechaba. “So from song to song you get different types of sounds and music and different approaches, and there is some quiet stuff and there is some loud stuff too.”
This array of influences takes the jazz music that Dyer has built his career on and extends it into new areas – already gestured to by his work with Sakhile Moleshe, as part of the groove-based Soul Housing Project, and his abiding interest in the sonic possibilities of electronic music. “When I was recording the album, I didn’t block my inspirations,” Dyer explains. “So the music on it draws on African music, American music and, really, whatever sounds great to me.”
Alongside this, Dyer has thought deeply about what he wants the music of Radio Sechaba to say. “The name of the project is Radio Sechaba and Sechaba means nation,” says the pianist, songwriter and producer. “It is something I have been thinking a great deal about - how I can use my music to reflect the current moment in South Africa and where we’re at, as a people.”
In particular, Dyer honed in on the related topics of nation building and unity. “This is pretty much the central theme of the project. Radio Sechaba is about what this nation – South Africa - is and thinking about a soundtrack that could go along with that theme.” This is no ordinary topic for the artist: Dyer was born in 1986 in Gaborone, Botswana, where many artists from South Africa, including his father, musician Steve Dyer, were living in exile. It was, he says, “an exciting musical time when I was born into a community in exile from apartheid”.
So it’s no coincidence that Dyer – who moved back to South Africa as a child in 1993 – gives his nation-building album a name that echoes that of Radio Freedom, the voice in exile of the African National Congress. For around three decades, from 1963 when it was created, Radio Freedom provided inspiration to those in the movement against apartheid and was an important ongoing link between exiles and those resisting within the country.
Consistently thoughtful about the role music can play in connecting, Dyer’s nation-building narrative finds expression in tracks like the reverential “Ho Tla Loka”, “Mogaetsho” (in which he addresses the big theme of betrayal) and the moving and powerful “State of the Nation”.
Radio Sechaba might be built around the bigger project of nation building but it also contains a number of songs that focus on the value of individual introspectiveness. There’s a call for presence on “Move On” (“Just breathe and let it go/stuck in past and future all we’ve got is present/Just breathe and let it go”) and a West-African influence instrumentally - call for self-liberation on “Resonance of Truth” (“Where do we go to find some serenity/Stop looking out too far/Try listening within”).
Radio Sechaba also features “Ke Nako” – which is the opening track on the critically acclaimed Johannesburg scene jazz compilation, Indaba Is which was released in early 2021 on Gilles Peterson's Brownswood label. Meaning ‘Now’s the Time’, the track was included in a 2022 live concert at the Claude Lévi-Strauss theater as part of the Sons d'hiver festival in France. That show placed Dyer’s piano playing centrestage and it’s a gift that has been described by acclaimed South African trumpeter Feya Faku as nothing short of “beautiful”. “His sense of rhythm, his articulation on acoustic piano addresses the piano,” says Faku who has included Dyer in his Feya Faku Quintet shows.
Radio Sechaba is interspersed with short musical interludes - like “Amogelang” and “Spirit People” - that serve as sonic signposts to our collective past, present and future. The album sounds a hopeful note with “You are Home”, a gorgeous, layered piece that recalls West African blues in its eloquent call to all of us: “Know your truth/Let it guide you/From the unknown/It will lead you home”.

