South African Kwaito

New York Times
August 25, 2005
Hip-Hop Hybrids That Scramble Traditions
By KELEFA SANNEH

It's no surprise to hear hip-hop flourishing in cities all over the world. But it is a surprise - and a pleasant one - to hear it flourishing so sneakily. It's like some sort of cultural witness protection program: when hip-hop goes abroad, it often goes underground, changing its name and modifying its identity. The resulting hybrid genres pay tribute to the global reach of hip-hop while also scrambling its traditions.

Two of the most exciting hybrids have parallel stories. The music known as kwaito (pronounced KWEYE-toh) is based in South Africa, and the music known as grime is based in London. Both genres have made stars out of brash young performers who bend rhymes around computer-generated beats. Both reflect the local popularity of dance music: the loping rhythms of kwaito reflect South Africa's love affair with house music, whereas grime is descended from club-friendly genres like drum 'n' bass and garage. Like hip-hop, these two genres seem inseparable from the black youth cultures from which they emerged.

Kwaito is well established in South Africa, and upstarts (like Brown Dash) and veterans (like Spikiri) are making great music. But the genre is all but invisible in America and online. A curious American listener would be hard-pressed to find kwaito MP3's, let alone albums or concerts.

By contrast, New York's grime fans have been enjoying a grimy summer. Over the past six weeks, the city has played host to a series of shows featuring Lady Sovereign, Kano, DJ Cameo and the collective known as Roll Deep. Thanks in part to the attention paid by blogs and magazines (The Fader just put Lady Sovereign on its back cover), New York now has fans who will hang out at the Knitting Factory until nearly 2 in the morning just to hear Roll Deep's rising rapper Trim declaim his staccato lyrics. Even in an MP3 era, some musical worlds are much closer than others.

Unfortunately, the best way for an American to hear kwaito involves a long flight to Johannesburg. On Y-FM, one of that city's leading radio stations (available online at www.yfm.co.za), kwaito takes its place alongside hip-hop, house, R&B and reggae. And the most popular kwaito artists routinely sell gold (25,000 units) or platinum (50,000). Like hip-hop in America in the 1980's (or even now), kwaito is not yet reputable (skittish listeners still haven't gotten over the genre's associations with thuggery), but it is certainly resilient.

One of the biggest recent kwaito success stories is that of Brown Dash, who scored a big hit with "Phants' Komthunzi Welanga," based on a clattering house track and an eerie electronic sound that mimics a theremin. (The title, in Xhosa, translates as "Under the Shadow of the Sun.") The song comes from his excellent album "Mthandazo Wabolova" (T.S. Records, online at www.tsrecords.co.za), which fits his tough but playful lyrics over thumping house beats by Guffy, who started his career in jazz, and M'Du, who helped create the sound known as kwaito.

Another strong new kwaito album comes from a veteran. Spikiri, a producer and a member of the popular kwaito act Trompies, recently released "Simply the Best" (Universal South Africa), with the hit "Current," which is No. 1 on Y-FM's Top 10. "Current" has an energetic house beat and ghostly electronic sounds wafting in and out of the mix. And throughout "Simply the Best," Spikiri uses his dance beats to glue together all sorts of songs; he's a pop star who thinks - and acts - like a D.J.

Grime in London is nothing like kwaito in Johannesburg: the genre still haven't gone mainstream. Many grime stars are having a difficult time capturing the energy of their scene on full-length CD's; even in Britain, grime remains mainly underground. Kano is responsible for a series of stunning singles that show off his slick but restless flow (he often rides the very back of the beat, as if he's about to fall off), but his import-only debut album, "Home Sweet Home" (679 Recordings), is only fitfully entertaining. He is at his least effective when he tries to broaden his appeal by trading the fast, clipped beats of grime for the more laid-back rhythms of hip-hop.

To see the frantic and fertile grime underground at work (and play), American listeners might track down "Lord of the Decks 3" (www.hotheadzpromotions.com), a mixtape package of two DVD's and a CD. The DVD's include live performances (one was filmed in New York this past March) plus interviews and videos, and the CD has freestyles and previews of new tracks. And if you can't find a DVD or a mixtape (or a vinyl-only single), you can always find an MP3. A genre this chaotic - built from harsh, jagged beats and intricate shouted verses - might have been tailor-made for bloggers.

So why is kwaito so much more obscure in America? Part of the problem is language: kwaito lyrics are usually delivered in a mashed-up slang that draws heavily from Zulu and Xhosa and Afrikaans. But another problem is kwaito's relative accessibility. While grime stars thrill bloggers with messy, noisy tracks, kwaito tends to be more tuneful and more exuberant; to an American listener, a kwaito hit might sound less like a weird experiment and more like mainstream party music. Kwaito might be obscure partly because it doesn't sound obscure enough.

From another angle, though, the obscurity of kwaito in America shouldn't be a surprise at all. Grime is the exception, not the rule; even in the age of MP3's, the vast majority of the world's pop music will continue to go unheard in America, and that's probably fine. But in an Internet age, it's increasingly easy for music obsessives to imagine that they - which is to say, we - are keeping up with the most exciting sounds from all over the globe. Every once in a while, we should think about all that we're missing, and why.