THERE was so much for Johnny Clegg and I to chat about, enthused his PR person.
This included his recent nine-week tour of the US during which he performed 42 shows in 67 nights. The Standard Bank Joy of Jazz recognised Juluka’s contribution to South African music by honouring them with an award last month. In August, the Department of Arts and Culture honoured Clegg with a similar award. In between all this he is writing an autobiography.
He also played sold-out shows in the Eastern Cape and Cape Town’s Baxter Theatre and is planning the same show, Johnny Clegg Best, Live and Unplugged, at the Mandela Theatre in Joburg from October 23 to 26.
The shows sees Clegg perform with longtime friend Sipho Mchunu, and it is described as “a personal journey which is uplifting, moving and also humorous at times”.
But during the interview Clegg was having none of that. After quizzing me about my music journalism background and being satisfied with my reply that my passion is first and foremost South African music, he began speaking, no prompting question needed.
“I prioritise the South African experience which is why I tried to write about South Africa from the beginning,” he begins, an earnest expression on that very famous face.
“Back then, in the main, South Africans thought our culture was backward, embarrassing or exotic. I am an anthropologist by training and whenever I dried up in terms of inspiration I looked to the history books.
“When I began I was deeply embedded in migrant workers. They brought their culture into the hostels, but at the same time were influenced by Western culture. They took the guitar and violin and re-tuned it and played it differently. I realised that it was specifically South African.
“At age 14 I wanted to be a purveyor of Maskandi music. When I met Sipho we played general street music. I learnt to do Zulu poetry and dancing. At the same time I was interested in Celtic folk music and I heard echoes of that in Maskandi.
“The most radical thing of that time was that we were mixing languages. The SABC had banned language mixing.”
Ah, perhaps this is the time to broach him about his acoustic show. But he continued unabated.
“Fast-forward to today and music is going through turmoil in terms of social value. We would do three to four gigs a week in townships, but you can’t do that any more. First, there was the packaging of sport for television. There was the advent of the internet and then digital gaming.
“We have all had to adapt how we interact with our audiences. However, I don’t have to copy Rihanna or Avicii. All of that stuff is irrelevant to me. It’s not my universe. Part of my journey in South Africa was to discover my own African identity. I wanted to know how I could become an African. What I loved about African culture was that it was genuinely happy within itself. It was content within itself. I was actually jealous which is why I learnt. It became a safe harbour. It took 15 years before other South Africans saw that it was a possibility. I was happy with the space I was in.”
So, why are you doing an acoustic show?
“I had never done an acoustic set before. One of the things I hated was that so many musicians I worked with believed it would be alright on the night. I believe in hard work, giving of my best. You can’t think that music is just a jol. One hangover of apartheid is a victim mentality where the world won’t give you a break because you just want to dawdle your way through. And then there were people like the Soul Brothers who would arrive on time, have big productions. It was sheer musical entertainment.
“When any cultural activity is being performed in and for itself, it must be honest, then the audience experience that as real, as something special. Till today, if I listen to Bayete or Sakhile I am nourished.”
Then he says something unexpected: “I am a singer/ songwriter. However, I am not a great singer and I am not that good a songwriter, but it was a platform.”
An astonishing statement considering that so many of his hits have stood the test of time.
“There is a huge responsibility for artists as long as we don’t do it for the money. Artists have a massive source to be comforting, but they also need to be a source of critical reflection. Nowadays people mistake the connection of celebrities with the connection of music.”
We are in agreement that the celebrity culture of today is a far cry from what has ever been before.
Does he think this is because of the digital revolution?
“In terms of digital, we are social animals and cyberspace fulfils the need for us to be told who we are. Digital gives you 24-hour affirmation. We are in a spiritual desert. There is a global fixation on material things like money and cars. It’s a form of voyeurism.
“We have political freedom which is a nominal freedom, not a comprehensive freedom. We have inherited the fruits of oppression and we have to re-invent ourselves. All the movements back then had to put into place things against Fascism and racism and they often did it without money.”
We end the unexpected, but thought-provoking, conversation by him musing whether the new generation has anyone who is standing up against the social ills of today.
• Tickets for the acoustic show are available at Computicket. He will also perform with a full band on November 30 at Walter Sisulu National Botanical Gardens.