While putting together this year’s Heritage issue, which serendipitously presented itself to me as a music edition along the way, I encountered divine intervention in the gospel of Solly Moholo.
Astonishingly, on repeat on my playlist was Banaka Nako Ea Me E Haufi by the late gospel singer, which formed part of the soundtrack of my childhood. One of my fondest memories from the early 2000s is of my uncle, Isaac Maupa, blasting the tune loudly in the middle of the night from his navy Toyota Corolla 16V, waking up the neighbours.
Presumably, he was drunk, at least judging by my mother’s visible exasperation. Not Malome Ike, he didn’t care, he was at his happiest, dancing and singing along.
Apple Music’s auto-play algorithm was picking up on my nostalgic mood and feeding me tracks from one of my most-played artists, Tsepo Tshola. Songs like Ho Lokile, Lekunutu Le Morena, Beaulah Land, Oena Feela, and Ha Le Mpotsa Tsepo Eaka dominated my listening pleasures.
(Side note, aside from The Village Pope, my list of most-played artists on Apple Music is a chaotic mix of Frank Ocean, Amadodana Ase Wesile, Florence + The Machine, Lady Gaga, Madonna, Adele, Bongo Maffin, IPCC, Coldplay, and Mafikizolo. So, what does my musical taste say about my personality?)
Back to my listening pleasures and the calming effect of worship music. I would be the first to admit that I’m not the most obvious candidate for the genre. Certainly, if we are basing it on a self-identity and body-perception point of view, I present a very laid-back aesthetic.
Topless, tattooed torso on display, and nipple-piercing freed — that was my sartorial choice at the beginning of the month at the outdoors event Galaxy 947 Joburg Day. Many kept calling it “brave” and “daring”, but to me it was just an ordinary Saturday afternoon under the sun. I guess I passed the vibe check!
Being raised in a Christian family, hymns, praise, and worship music formed part of my childhood memories. I find inner peace in the soft hum and rhythmic clapping. The melody, harmony, and lyrics are beautifully soothing and relaxing to my soul.
Now, picture this: you are out at groove, the vibez are giving. The DJ is playing a fire mix of amapiano, kwaito, lekompo, hip-hop, Afrobeat, and house. Then, without warning, they switch it up by dropping a gospel tune.
The moment is always met with 100% atmospheric thrill. “Unholy” would probably be my mother’s reaction. That combination of emotion, identity, and memory resulting in a dopamine release is called frisson by the French — tingles, goosebumps, shivers, and chills down the spine.
That’s why we are strongly bonded by music — no matter the genre, we all have experienced that incredulous frisson. So, to go back to my earlier question, what does my musical taste say about my personality? The answer? Frisson.
What does music look like in 2025? Our cover stars Focalistic, Shandesh, and Thabsie are the culture shifters defining and designing this generation’s soundtrack. The common thread is how they are impacting cultural trends and modern sound, which has seen the disappearance of genre-specific music.
Our Heritage issue celebrates that fluidity in music and you, as the listener, don’t have to choose anymore — just marinate in the joy of frisson.
