We drive to Tshepo Sedumo’s home in Atlasville, an affluent part of Boksburg, east of Johannesburg, to learn about the loud speakers he makes in his quiet neighborhood.
We get lost and suspicious security guards start trailing us before we find his double-storey house. Sedumo welcomes us in and offers us something to drink.
The 24-year–old entrepreneur, from the Free State province, is tall and light-skinned, and runs his business from home.
When he was growing up, his family of five moved from province to province as his father found work around the country. In 2001, his father secured a job as an accountant in Johannesburg; from then on the City of Gold was home.
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“My life began when we came here; I made a lot of changes, new schools, new environments, big city, it was meant to be,” says Sedumo.
He was always a DIY person as a young boy; he liked messing around with things he found around the house. That’s because he never really had toys, he says. Sedumo passed the time by putting random things together which he enjoyed and kept him off the streets.
In high school Sedumo learned new skills and started using power tools, like drills. However, he was an accounting student – he studied BCom finance at varsity, but still did handy work in his spare time. Later, spare time became full time as Sedumo dropped his studies to pursue a business making boomboxes.
It was a simple start – it all began with wooden boxes and hinges. Sedumo put computer speakers in the boxes and connected them to the iPod he had recently bought.
It wasn’t the best design but it worked well and people loved it, he says. Encouraged by this, Sedumo wanted to improve his product and make his speakers sound better.
“As time went on, I added moulding on the inside to make it steadier; I worked on it to a point where I actually messed it up. I overworked it,” he laughs.
He kept trying different styles but couldn’t settle on something he was happy with, until he went to YouTube for ideas to better the speakers.
In 2013, Sedumo, for the first time, tried to build something that is battery powered.
“Most of my information didn’t come from school. I learned, on the internet, of a few things, bought some components online and built something that was ugly but powerful and worked with auxiliary. A year later, I decided to use a car stereo and built it into the ugly speakers and that boosted the power and had auxiliary, a SD card slot and USB; it was great,” he says.
YouTube is where his idea was sparked. He saw a boombox made from cardboard, but Sedumo thought it would look better in wood and gathered more research online.
In 2014, he built his first boombox, using wood and veneer. It worked well, the sound was great and it was portable. His friends suggested he make a business out of it.
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“For me it was just to have a sound system and to impress girls, and that’s how I started to lose interest in my studies,” he says.
Sedumo failed his second year and decided to take a break. He turned his attention to boomboxes and has never looked back. His heart was never in school, his passion was in boomboxes and his business Grove Audio was born.
He took it seriously, experimenting with different styles, builds and material, including a backpack boombox.
Sedumo loves hip-hop and associates the music with a boombox. He says the boombox also brings back nostalgic memories for people older than him, like his mom, who owned one when she was younger.
In 2016, Sedumo released a range called Grove Audio G2 (Groove 2). Priced at R2,000 ($150), and able to play for 10 hours using Bluetooth, they sold out within a month.
“I want to differentiate the boomboxes; there is the G series and the S series which are special boomboxes and in 2017 I want to come with the R series; large boomboxes for rent to house parties, etc,” he says.
Sedumo’s custom-made boomboxes are available online, and occasionally at pop-up markets around Johannesburg, and selling internationally.
Sedumo is making a name for himself by creating old-school boomboxes with modern technology. Like the songs they play, these boomboxes are sure to be a hit.
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The Sound Of A  Booming Business

It is a windy day in Johannesburg, South Africa. Thick dark clouds assemble in the sky; the wind is as swift as rush hour. As we meet, Oliver Mtukudzi carries a brown bag, full of his life, on his shoulder. He carries the bag everywhere, just as he wears his trademark poor boy cap. Dressed in a black jacket and grey pants, he stands high up on the stairs to welcome us. He is in South Africa to promote his 65th album, Eheka! Nhai Yahwe, which features South African jazz legend Hugh Masekela. It’s a remarkable career stretching back some 41 years with songs that have enlivened parties all over the world with hits like Neria, Todii and Wasakara.
“I never decided to be in the music industry. It was in me. My mother said ‘you are a good singer but you will never surpass your birth cry. Your birth cry was so beautiful’. So I believe that’s when I started singing, from my first breath,” says Mtukudzi.
Born in 1952 in Highfield, a suburb in Harare, Zimbabwe, on September 22 at 3AM; music runs in his blood. Both his parents were musicians. They met at a choir competition and the competition never ended. They competed at home and the children were the judges.
“If we needed a favor from dad, then dad won and if we needed a favor from mum, mum won.”
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It wasn’t long before he followed.
“I made a three-string guitar for myself from a tin around 1969 or early 1970s with the help of a [relative]. I was always playing it. My father didn’t like it and he broke the guitar,” he recalls.
It wasn’t going to stop him. He made up songs as a child and sang everywhere.
“One day, I decided to perform for my parents standing on the table and they enjoyed it so much I didn’t get smacked for standing on the table. I remember my mother noticed I had been standing on the table, two or three days later. That’s how good it was,” he chuckles.
Mtukudzi followed his passion. In the 1970s, he joined Wagon Wheels, a band which included yet another Zimbabwean star, Thomas Mapfumo, the man who wrote Nyoka Musango and is known as the king of Chimurenga music.
“I love what I do. If I was doing a career, I would be worried about how much money I can make. I am yet to decide on a career to take on. This is not a career for me. I am just doing me. This is about understanding the purpose of a song, to bring life and hope to the people and to heal broken hearts. If you do it right, there is more in appreciation than getting paid.”
His skill is appreciated from Angola to Zimbabwe. He has won many awards; among them, the National Arts Merit Awards, Zimbabwe Music Awards, KORA Awards and South African Music Awards.
“All my songs are my favorites. If it’s not one of my favorites, I will just throw it away. You won’t get to hear it. It won’t make it to my album. Awards are an appreciation. They shouldn’t put any pressure on me, otherwise I will lose the purpose of the song,” he says.
The deep voice of Mtukudzi has brought music to the next generation. Taught by their father, his children Selmor and Sam Mtukudzi became music stars in their own right.
“One day, in March 2010, I was in Johannesburg and my son, Sam, was supposed to pick me up in Harare at the airport.”
Mtukudzi sent Sam a message telling him he was no longer coming. Unfortunately, the text didn’t go through. Sam drove to the airport to pick him up. And tragedy struck.
“I got a call that evening and they said he had been in an accident on his way home from the airport. They were taking him to the hospital and I was to come as soon as possible. They wouldn’t give me the details,” says Mtukudzi.
When he arrived at the airport all his close friends and family were there.
“I realized something was really wrong. They were all crying and I knew my son had passed on. I couldn’t believe it. My last words with him, we joked and now he was gone. I am still learning to live with it.”
This is a big loss for Mtukudzi. Sam performed and toured with his father.
“He was always on my left side when he was on stage with me. That alone, when I’m on stage, it makes me remember he is not there. Every time I am on stage, I feel the emptiness but it is also therapeutic because I feel him the most when I’m on stage.”
After Sam’s death, it was hard to sing again. In 2012, after two long years of grief, Mtukudzi released Sarawoga – in his mother tongue, it means “left alone”.
“Some of the songs in the album were meant to be in collaboration with my son so this was some kind of therapy for me. I didn’t want to throw away the work we had sweated on. I had to finish it off,” he says.
One of the songs in the album is Shamiso, named after Mtukudzi’s daughter.
“Sam was more of a friend than a son. One of the songs we were working on was Shamiso. She was getting married and we were going to sing the song at her wedding.”
It hasn’t been an easy journey. According to Mtukudzi, for as long as there are people, there is something to talk about and if there is something to talk about, then there is something to sing about.
“My music comes from the people, the environment and some of it from personal experiences. Things come up when I’m driving and I park on the side and write it down, you don’t budget time for a song. This is a tough industry. There are a lot of obstacles but you have to be strong. There is no shortcut, you just have to go all the way and remain true to yourself,” he says.
As Mtukudzi learns to live with the loss of his son, he is trying to break barriers. He is adapting a famous 1961 Zimbabwean book, Pfumo Reropa, spear of blood in chiShona, by Patrick Chakaipa.
“I’m not going to retire. I can’t run away from myself. I noticed that some of our literature is being thrown away. It is being ignored probably because there are no visuals to them, so I felt I should take one of the popular books at home and script it into motion picture to encourage our youngsters to be more interested in African literature.”
Through the loss and the pain, Mtukudzi is trying to build something of substance for Africa out of the ruins. Surely, that is a tribute to the loss of a loved son.

“Every Time I’m  On Stage, I Feel The  Emptiness”

We meet Ofuakuor Ofuatey-Kodjoe, popular as Ofie Kodjoe, in her beautiful home in Tesano, a suburb in Accra famous for one of the country’s first sports clubs. A person with multiple talents deserves multiple adjectives to describe her. Suffice to say she is one of the most pleasant, inspirational, witty, intelligent and down-to-earth personalities you will meet in Ghana.
Kodjoe has had a multifaceted career, from being a corporate executive at the Black Entertainment Television (BET) Networks in New York and an award-winning singer to launching three successful businesses and her own radio show in Accra.
Kodjoe, along with her brother and sister, were raised in New York; her dad was a professor of political science and her mother a nurse. The family’s plan was for Kodjoe to attend law school but she changed her mind half-way and switched to medicine. She finally ended up studying political science and African studies.
That was not the end of her academic ambitions. Her real aim was to study music.
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“When I was 19, I went to my dad and told him I wanted to go to the Berklee College of Music in Boston, he looked at me like I had six heads and said ‘no’,” says Kodjoe, who was too scared to fight, and instead settled for her dad’s career choice – political science and African studies – a decision she regrets.
She went to the City University of New York; her dad ensured she excelled in all subjects. She would rehearse with a band after class while still achieving 18 credits in school. After graduation, the logical progression was corporate America because music was not as lucrative as she had hoped. She managed to get into BET, one of the biggest media houses in America, rising to the position of Director of Corporate Travel and Corporate Services.
Alongside, Kodjoe still maintained her love for music.
“I was with a band and I was singing so I had this corporate parallel to my creative side and I loved it.”
But tragedy struck, and it changed her life. The first setback was when Kodjoe’s brother died of cardiomegaly (an enlarged heart condition) in his sleep. Two years later, her father underwent heart surgery to fix a broken valve; he also suffered from a kidney condition.
“I realized we didn’t have that much time left with him, maybe two years, so we decided to come back home,” says Kodjoe.
It was her father’s wish for the children to relocate to Ghana to give back to the country he so loved. It was a traumatic period. The loss of the two men in her life took a toll on her.
In Ghana, Kodjoe set up a management consulting business with her business partner to teach young Ghanaians to become successful in the workplace and also advice organizations on getting the best out of their workforce.
She set up another company, Moka Entertainment, which got its big break when BET came to Ghana to do a reality show. Its success led to various production contracts. Kodjoe was falling in love with music again. Her sound is a cross between Afro Jazz and Neo Soul. The highlight of her career was opening for the BET Celebration of Gospel event in Los Angeles and also for BET Walk Of Fame, which was celebrating American icons like Smokey Robinson.
She has also performed for the President of Liberia. In her weekly radio show on the hit ‘adult alternative station’, Atlantis Radio, in Accra, she spends her time covering inspirational topics that encourage listeners to look at the upside no matter their ordeal. She spends her time mentoring young talent through her management label, which has a roster of top R&amp;B singers from across Africa. Her biggest regret though is the lack of support for music.
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“I didn’t have the guts to say I don’t care what you think, I am going to do it anyway,” she says of her journey into it.
This regret led her to found yet another company, Onyx Management, geared towards helping young people understand their purpose and passion – even if they have to fight to make it happen. Her motto is live life, love life and live love.
Accra’s youth stay tuned.

Ofie1

The Corporate Creative

Africa’s music industry is young and vibrant. From Dakar to Mombasa, Lagos to Cape Town, creative communities are producing music that draws from our millennia of heritage, while incorporating modern instruments and the latest technology. The industry itself contributes to Africa both economically and culturally. But it faces challenges to its ongoing development and expansion, and will require both structural and cultural support to counteract these damaging trends.
The difficulties faced by the African music industry are long-established and well-documented. The fundamental challenge is the predominance of an informal economy operating supply chains without proper regulation or observation; the issue of artistes receiving remuneration for intellectual property impacts both physical sales and digital platforms, with content piracy stealing livelihoods from would-be musicians and creatives.
Across the continent, piracy is perceived as a victimless crime. Without proper education as to its impact, not only on creative industries but also on society more widely, this scourge will go unanswered and will continue to undermine the efforts of those working to promote African music. Empowering musicians requires legal frameworks to be reinforced and expanded in order to safeguard intellectual property, a fundamental building block in constructing a robust music industry.
While Africa’s music industry challenges are well known, positive steps are being made to counter these obstacles, and technology is at the heart of those solutions. Internet penetration in sub-Saharan Africa stood at 2% in 2010; by 2014, Africa’s entire figure had risen to 27%. This increased access has fostered the proliferation of international services such as iTunes, and Shazam, as well as Nigeria’s Spinlet and Kenya’s Mdundo. This represents a prime opportunity for a more regulated distribution chain for artistes.
Although physical sales revenues outweigh digital by a considerable margin across Africa, digital sales are growing as a percentage – a trend predicted to continue, with my home country Nigeria estimated to see over 50% of music revenue through digital streams in 2015.
Unsurprisingly, Africa’s music industry does not have significant economic impact on the bottom line of the continent’s exports balance sheet. Findings from US-based research agency PolitiFact found that the music industry accounted for “less than 0.1% of Africa’s export revenue”. Compared with commodity-rich sectors such as fuel, gold or diamonds, and softer commodities such as timber, sugar, or grains, our music industry’s economic contribution is dwarfed in absolute terms by this more tangible production.
There is, however, an intrinsic value to Africa’s music industry, one which is not measured in dollars, naira or any other currency.
It is the value of a diverse yet shared cultural heritage, one which places musical creativity at the heart of storytelling. The tonal nature of many African languages creates a strong connection between musical and verbal communications, meaning for many African communities music is woven into the fabric of society.
Many are already aware of the impact African music has had on global music, from historic links to blues, soul, and jazz, all the way through to contemporary rap and hip-hop. This feeds back into Africa’s musical exports over the past 50 years; from the Nigerian greats of old like Fela Kuti and Osadebe to Mali’s Ali Farka Touré and Cameroon’s Manu Dibango (who’s still alive) with Senegal’s Youssou N’Dour and Nigeria’s Femi Kuti and William Onyeabor the next to take on the mantle, right through to younger breakthrough acts like Kiss Daniel and Yemi Alade; the love around the world for African music is huge, even if the profits are not. And with the younger generation, we’re seeing artistes incorporating western musical influences to create the eclectic and exciting fusion of sounds we’re hearing today.
The legal and governance frameworks which surround African music are in their infancy, but the continent’s musical heritage is as rich, time-honoured and robust as that of any other continent on earth. It has an exciting future, a future of challenges but also of opportunities, most notably through the emergence of digital platforms. Properly protected and nurtured, African music can continue to go from strength to strength. No one can doubt that the whole world would benefit from that.

CY_Apr232014_0194

The Value Of African Music

It’s the inevitable cost of fame. Recounting one’s success story for the nth time and sounding like a scratched record.
Lira, born Lerato Molapo in Ekurhuleni in the East of Johannesburg in South Africa, has done it too, countless times, and relates it again – how she came to be a singer – in one breathless sentence. At 16, she was in the final year of high school in South Africa when she teamed with her best mate and two other friends from church for a singing competition. That night, they walked away with awards for best composition, best performance and best vocalist.
That night, a star was born.
In the present, Lira has performed all over the world, and has almost a million social media followers – that new measure of creative capital.
The accolades have come thick and fast: a Black Entertainment Television (BET) Awards nomination as ‘Best International Artist’ in 2012; performances with the likes of A-listers Alicia Keys, Shakira, K’naan and John Legend at the FIFA World Cup opening in South Africa in 2010, a big role in an Italian feature file, The Italian Consul, and a performance, in a David Tlale-designed gown, at President Barack Obama’s inaugural ball in 2013 in the United States (US). It was not just Lira’s, but South Africa’s wow moment on a global stage.
“I was performing for all kinds of races and that bridged the race lines for me. It was the first time that I saw something that transcended all boundaries,” says Lira.
She launched her American album Rise Again in the US in 2014.
As an undergraduate student, Lira studied finance and used her skills to exchange for recording time at a local studio. It resulted in her first demo at the age of 18. Then she put her music career on hold, finished her degree, started working and saved all her money, almost every penny she made.
“No one gave me the idea that I could go into music. I was into finance – general finance and auditing. I turned 22 and decided I would take five years to get it out of my system. I cashed in on my pension and made sure I could survive for a year. Two weeks after I served my notice, I landed a deal. I was exceptionally lucky,” she says.
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When she submitted her resignation, she created a five-year plan for her music career. In 2000, she was discovered by music producer Arthur Mafokate, who signed her to his record label, 999 Music. She released her debut album, All My Love, in 2003. Despite earning accolades at the Metro FM Awards, South African Music Awards (SAMA), Channel O Reel Music Awards and topping charts, it was “a disaster”. Her idea of how it would all play out was quickly shattered – and it broke her.
“My first deal was a disaster, they exploited me. It crushed my spirit so much that I slipped into depression. It took two years to get back on my feet. They just want to make money out of you, they want control over you.”
She left 999 Music; teamed up with keyboardist Victor Mngomezulu, bassist Tshepo Sekele, and producer Robin Kohl; and signed to Sony Music Africa and released Feel Good in 2006. A huge success, it led to multiple nominations and wins at SAMAs. The following year, the album was released in Italy, where its title track gained massive airplay.
In 2006, she started her own label Otarel Music in South Africa to house all her business interests. In 2011, she launched the label in the US. Otarel Music was responsible for the publishing of her musical works and her management company. The singer and songwriter outsourced her publicity and co-produced her own music.
“Mediocrity had become the norm but excellence is part of my brand value. I remember when I quit my job in the financial space, when friends would ask what I did, I would say I am a musician. No one would take us seriously. We have to be able to take ourselves seriously. I now do keynote speeches at high-level events, I speak as a businesswoman in the music industry. It is the one thing I am proud of, it is a model that I have built,” she says.
One of only two wholly black-owned labels in South Africa, she learned from other labels and modeled her business on them. With Lira as the sole attraction, she has built a brand around herself with a multi-million rand company which has consistently seen a 20% profit growth in the last six years.
“Every time we have a tour in the States, it is self-funded, it is completely my brand. It is incredibly difficult to build a brand for an artiste. Artistes have to see themselves as a business. I couldn’t baby another artiste, I mentor a lot of people and consult on that level. I recommend that artistes manage their own business,” she says.
She splurges on her business and her image. She’s adamant she has found the secret to the glamorous life without racking up debt. Her brand is centered around being innovative and creating an image she can export.
“The best thing is being able to control my career, as an artiste, you want to express your creativity. I’ve been able to imagine and fund the kind of live performances that I want. We were the first people to spend money on a big production. I was the first African artiste to produce a full HD production. We used a RED camera and we held the record for having the most RED cameras in any production in the world. The only other production that beat that was The Hobbit. That’s the kind of excellence you push for,” she says.
For many African artistes, gaining traction in the US is daunting. For Lira, who has a large following in Africa, growing her brand internationally is a slow process but since going solo, she aims high.
“My brand works beautifully because of the visual products I put out. My intention was always to produce products of a global standard. People take me seriously because they can see that. When people google Lira the quality of my work speaks for itself,” she says.
“For three years, I built my business up. Within a year, I doubled my income. This whole diva tactic doesn’t work for me. Stars that succeed know that without your customers you will not have business,” she says.
Her next project is a seven-part TV show, Dream Chaser, which traces her story and what goes into building a brand out of a musician. Based on years of footage of Lira’s performances, the series shows everything – Lira with warts and all. She has been dubbed one of South Africa’s biggest acts – and wealthiest. Her following ranges from grannies to young executives to CEOs.
“The truth is I could retire. I don’t know what my net worth is but I have been debt-free for nine years. Well I guess my company turns over R7 million ($522,411) and I’m the only artiste. If I was in the US, I would probably be in the league of Beyoncé,” she says.
Lira may be one of South Africa’s highest-earning female artistes but she struggles to balance fame, wealth and her image in South Africa. For Lira, South Africa’s legacy doesn’t allow her to be ostentatious.
“We all love the underdog. As soon as you are successful, nobody likes it, they want to pull you down. It’s just the nature of us as South Africans. We cannot be happy for you if you rise too quickly – we’re not happy, we reject it. We just don’t like to celebrate each other’s success. It’s okay for you to know that I’m successful but not how.
“You will never know what car I drive, you will never know where I stay, you will never know what shoe I buy. I’ll never show off these little things because I still need to be close to the people. Your maid will come to my show, your mom who is struggling – those are the people who draw inspiration from what I do,” she says.
“In this country that’s what we’re like as a people. If people found out, that’s it, I must just go find another place to go make a living somewhere else,” she says.
She’s managed to secure her wealth and has built up a large following for her business model and investment knowledge. She sees money, wealth and self-respect as inextricably linked. Her views on money read like a self-help book. She’s clued up on making her wealth grow.
“I am successful because I work hard and I am very good with money, I’m very good with it. People don’t know how to deal with money. We don’t think we deserve, so when you have it, you will squander it. You will buy things that you think will fill what’s missing in your core person. You start using it to patch those spaces, that won’t last of course. You fill in what’s missing instead of dealing with who you are, when you deal with yourself, you will recognize how you use money to correct what is wrong with your person. As soon as you change that, you are awake.
“Everybody takes their cut and the last person you will honor is yourself – if at all. That’s how much we dislike ourselves. People think they are not linked. I will probably do a lot more with my little seven million than people who earn 20, 30 or 40 million because of my relationship with myself and how I use my money.”
Each concert is carefully orchestrated to deliver a deliberate punch of music. From conceptualizing to the actual stage performance, attention is paid to every detail and making sure her audiences experiences the wow factor. She has spent R700,000 ($52,240) producing a show at South Africa’s Carnival City as a local artiste with a two-hour performance. She’s got a 12-man team from stylists, makeup artists to light and sound technicians. Her show had a built stage and screens set up but Lira says her efforts go largely unnoticed and that there isn’t money available for African artistes. It’s a sentiment shared by many. Her commitment to delivering value for money is to make sure that the show will be top-notch.
“Chris Brown comes in, it’s just him and a DJ. I, with all that money cannot charge R500 ($37) which would make sense for me. For Chris Brown, the minimum ticket is R650 ($48) – he’s drunk, he’s swearing, he’s high, he performs for 45 minutes and South Africans will pay for it. That is the truth of my reality. I am done with entitlement. I realized I’m working so hard to reshape a certain consciousness. It took me time to get South Africans to trust me with their R200 ($14) to see just me. My returns are ridiculous so I do it for the love, for the brand-building,” she says.
“People are struggling to put food on their tables. But you’ll find more cellphones in Africa than people so we foolishly spend on showy kinds of things. We’re very twisted in that way,” she says.
Lira admits to being a dollar millionaire, but doesn’t foresee the billionaire pop star emerging out of Africa any time soon. Equivalent in status but the differing contexts of the US and South Africa translate into different ticket prices. She envies the returns of international artistes.
Her best experience was in Brooklyn, New York, at Beyoncé’s concert where patrons paid R11,000 ($820) for VIP tickets. Lira’s reality sits in direct contrast. R975 ($72) was Lira’s most expensive concert which included a VIP package. Lira has earned the trust of her South African audience – and it’s paid off. A concert ticket would cost R200 ($14), and R300 ($22) for the golden circle. But in order to do well, she estimates she would have to charge R500 ($37) for every ticket in order to keep her own label.
“It is very limited here. You get tired of scraping by because you always work so hard. You invest in your career but the returns are tricky. When I see my balance sheet at the end of the year, it almost feels like a miracle that you did so well but it is a worthwhile pursuit.”
A collaboration with Pharrell Williams would cost $250,000; John Legend is $100,000. There aren’t any collaborations on the cards – she doesn’t think it’s worth it yet. For now, she wants to be a household name all on her own.
Aside from her property which boasts a fully organic food garden, a filtered water system and a view to die for, Lira’s biggest splurge has been shoes.
“I have dropped some ridiculous amounts on shoes. I will never do that again. I do spoil myself on holidays, amazing holidays. I was in Paris with my husband and I did splurge on shoes. I spoil myself plenty on stuff that I really want,” she says.
“My fans are predominantly female and I have built myself as a wholesome brand. It would be out of character for me to be showing off my wealth. It’s not taken positively,” she says.
With Lira, it’s about brand management and investing for the present and the future. It is rare for an artiste to display financial wizardry and musical flair. And master both.

F68C7623

‘I Speak As A Businesswoman In Music’

One of Africa’s biggest artists walks into the room wearing a shiny black suit, white shirt, bright red socks and, of course, dark-shades. His entourage scurries around to make sure he is comfortable. He steps forward, extends his hand and uses the opening line to all his songs, “I am D’banj”.
It’s an introduction that makes women, from Nigeria to Britain, swoon. But life hasn’t always been easy for the 33-year-old musician. He has come a long way from his days in Zaria, in northern Nigeria, where he found his passion for music in unfortunate circumstances.
“When I was 13, my brother died in a plane crash. At the time, I didn’t fully understand what was happening. Before we left for school, I went into his room and found the harmonica among his belongings and took it with me.”
D’banj spent most of his time playing along to Bob Marley and Céline Dion. The harmonica kept the memory of his brother alive.
At university, he began writing his own songs and it wasn’t long before he produced his first hit single The Koko. The song, a collaboration with producer Don Jazzy, gave them both a taste of success.
“We were like Batman and Robin, it was a great synergy. He knew my style, he knew how powerful my voice was, he knew how much energy I had and how I liked to perform. He studied me well.”
The two have since produced many hits which won D’banj an array of awards including: Best African Act at the MTV Europe Music Awards in 2007, Artist of the Year at the MTV Africa Music Awards in 2009 and Best International Act: Africa at the BET Awards in 2011.
The pair also created the record label, Mo’Hits Records, which launched the careers of Wande Coal, Dr SID, D’Prince and K-Switch. In 2012, Don Jazzy and D’banj split, sending shock waves through the music industry.
“We just grew apart. Change is the only constant thing and hopefully we changed for the better… Doing music with one producer for eight years, then coming out again, makes you feel brand new. You find skills you didn’t know you had and you find flaws about yourself that you thought you knew…”
It didn’t take long before D’banj moved onto a more lucrative deal under Kanye West’s record label, Good Music. Their partnership began as a case of mistaken identity.
“On my way out of Dubai I stopped at the first class lounge with my entourage. A few airhostesses ran up to me screaming ‘Mr Kanye West’. So I looked at myself, then I looked at them and said ‘I am D’banj. But if I look like Kanye West it means he must be around’”.
They tracked down the American star in the building. West liked D’banj’s fresh Afro-pop sound and they later met in Los Angeles, where D’banj was introduced to some of the industries big names such as Big Sean, Pusha T, Hit-Boy and LA Reid.
Contracts were signed, deals made and in the days that followed D’banj recorded Oliver Twist, the song brought him even greater international success.
“The fans overseas are different. They absorb the music differently and they really want to get to know you as a person, they want to know what you are about. Here, our people are more excited about the music.”
D’banj says getting to the top is the easy part; it’s staying there that’s difficult. Among his biggest competition is fellow Nigerian musicians P-Square.
“If we were in a dance battle they would beat me, I would have to get some help from Chris Brown. But I think overall you would definitely be entertained…”
The African hit maker looks forward to a successful year and the release of his documentary celebrating his 10 years in the music industry. D’banj seemed very confident that he would top the FORBES list of Africa’s 50 Richest, until he realized Aliko Dangote was number one.
“Dangote? Ahhh no, no, no that’s the father… this interview is over. She asks me if my turnover is higher than Dangote… very soon. Maybe in a couple of years,” he jokes while looking at his entourage seated at the back of the room.
I guess we’ll just wait and see.

I Am D’banj  And I Am Going To Be Rich

He is two hours late for the interview. As we contemplate calling it quits, he speeds in with his Volkswagen Scirocco. Dressed in black pants and camouflage coat, he dashes into the changing room to prepare for the photoshoot. King. Genius. Irritating. Self-obsessed. Arrogant. Jerk. All words that have been used to describe the self-proclaimed South African “prince” of hip hop, Kiernan Jordan Forbes, alternatively known as AKA.
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“A publication wrote an article about me with a headline ‘SA’s crowned prince’ and I thought it has a nice ring to it. What I learned in this industry is that you are what you say you are. If you say something enough times, eventually people pick up on it. So I started calling myself the prince of hip hop and now a lot of people do too,” he says.
In July, he had just become a father; his eyes are slightly puffy from sleepless nights yet he shrugs it off for the shoot and interview. He doesn’t come across as the self-obsessed, arrogant jerk some fans make him out to be. Showing his humble side he adds that he doesn’t call himself the king of hip hop, out of respect for more experienced artists.
“Wait until I get another two albums and more wins under my belt, then I might start calling myself the King.”
“Competition dead and buried in the dust I’m like the legendary Brenda Fassie…” The lyrics to his hit All Eyes On Me is a salvo full of intent.
AKA has the confidence of a superstar and success to match. His personal life, just like every other celebrity, is daily bread for South African tabloid newspapers. The buzz is more than justified. He did not break the internet, but, five years into his career, he has awards from Channel O, Metro FM, MTV African Music Awards (MAMA) and South African Music Awards (SAMA); including a coveted Black Entertainment Television (BET) nomination for the Best International Act: Africa category, and many more.
“I don’t belong exclusively to South Africa anymore. I am making a transition to belonging to the continent. I was so excited about the BET nomination because we have been working hard. Yes, we have won the SAMAs, yes we have won Metro FM awards, yes, we have won the Channel O awards, but the one thing we hadn’t done was get a nomination for a BET. We have done a lot of good work on the continent and it was great to get recognition for it.”
The rapper has more than 777,000 followers on Twitter.
“We are excited about AKA’s growth prospects in Africa and beyond. His unique approach to producing hits sets him apart from the average rap artist; this is an artist with not only innovative creative sense but with the ambition for international stardom,” Zakes Bantwini, Executive Head of A&amp;R for Sound African recordings, reportedly said when AKA signed the deal with Sony.
Born in Cape Town, he moved to Johannesburg when he was six. As a child, he developed a love for music while listening to records with his father, whom he says gave him a broad appreciation.
He started out in a teenage hip hop crew called Entity in 2002 which was nominated in 2005 for Best African Hip Hop in the KORA Awards. As Entity disbanded in 2006; AKA went off to study sound engineering only to drop out so he could brand himself as a legend. He ventured into a solo career with early hits like Mistakes, In My Walk and Do It; the latter making it to number one on the South African 5FM Top 40.
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“I love AKA. He is the king of rap. His style is international, making it easy for him to collaborate with any international artist if he ever wishes to. His flaws are also massive but he has mega talent,” says South African fan, Mthokozisi Dumani.
Public relations company owner, Allegro Dinkwanyane, says, “AKA is a very talented artist that&#8217;s contributing to the growth of South African hip hop internationally. Personally, I think Kiernan is a much nicer person than AKA. I guess it&#8217;s a persona that works well for him as a rapper. Arrogance aside, I&#8217;d definitely rank him in my top three South African hip hop artists, but still an album or two away from being ‘the prince of South African hip hop’.”
“I like his music but I don’t understand the guy. His character is weird. Sometimes you would think he has some sort of disorder because he never lets things go. When something happens, he always wants to have a say. He needs to learn to be humble and let things go,” says Zimbabwean fan, Mercy Sibanda.
“I think AKA is the prince of African rap but his arrogance takes away from his talent. Yes, he’s good at what he does but he doesn’t need to constantly toot his own horn,” adds hip hop fan, Lebogang Mathebula.
Little has changed in his character. The 27-year-old says he has always been a show-off who speaks his mind. Fans scolded him for his Twitter rants and controversial views. At the coveted annual Durban July horse racing event, AKA kicked a fan off stage; on a separate occasion he said he will not take a photo with anyone who calls themselves a fan, yet don’t own his album; he does not open for international acts in South Africa and the list goes on.
“I don’t like it when people call it a rant. It’s not a rant, I am just expressing myself. If I wasn’t me and my personality wasn’t what it is, my music wouldn’t be what it is. You can’t separate my music from my personality. Without the personality my music wouldn’t exist,” he says.
He claims he has never tried to be controversial, as the truth is controversial enough.
“I have always been like this, before the fame and money; I have always been someone who speaks the truth. I told myself that when I make it, I will do things on my own terms. I try to be myself as much as possible. Most of the time it works for me and sometimes it doesn’t.”
“If you don’t own my album, how can you be a fan? You can afford a smartphone to take a photo with but you can’t afford R100 ($7.50) for my album? Real fans support the artists. If you come to me, you want a piece of me or my time, so why can’t you buy my album?” he says.
“The country has never seen anything like me; someone as expressive, as blunt, as honest and dedicated as I am. Everything with me is intense,” he says.
According to AKA, thinking success is easy can be dangerous.
“When you start out, you work hard and say you can’t wait for the day when you are successful. When you finally get there, you realize getting there is not hard, staying there is.”
African hip hop and Afrobeats are everywhere on the radio these days. Much of that is attributed to African artists touring the world and making their presence known. AKA has toured some parts of Europe and has worked with Nigerian stars Ice Prince and Burna Boy, from whom he has learned a thing or two.
“Nigerians work much harder than the average South African artist. They are much more unapologetic, that’s why sometimes I feel like I belong there. [In] Nigeria, artists are encouraged to be superstars, yet in South Africa being a superstar is frowned upon.”
“We love to be humble people, and there is nothing wrong with being humble. Humility is the greatest source of our strength, but also, the great source of our weakness. In Nigeria and the US they are told to be great and in South Africa we are told to be humble which makes us meek, subservient and easily taken advantage of,” he says.
Although he has opened for Kanye West, Snoop Lion, Rick Ross, 2 Chainz, Big Sean and Kendrick Lamar on tour, AKA swears he will never open for an international artist in South Africa.
“Promoters treat us differently from Kanye West and all these other artists. They get better sound, better money and better treatment, yet we would be performing in our own cities. Promoters say we should do it for exposure but exposure to whom? These are our people who know us, so why should we tolerate being ill-treated?”
According to AKA, South Africa needs to redress legacies of apartheid. He believes African artists should be respected like international artists.
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“We still have that mentality of saying ‘how can AKA and Drake be on the same stage?’ We need to address our own self-worth. Apartheid left in us the idea that we are not worth more and we need to change that,” he says.
AKA is not a hugely sentimental man, but a glimpse of his softer side shines on social media when he talks of his daughter Kairo.
“It took a while for me to figure out how to change a nappy as Kiernan insisted on doing it himself all the time. He would wake up at night during our stay at the hospital and get up to change the baby’s nappy. I remember thinking that I really needed to learn, but it felt good knowing that he was so hands on,” says Kairo’s mother, DJ Zinhle, on her blog.
When Zinhle had her baby shower she says AKA “popped in to say hi to the ladies, he walked in carrying the most adorable Melissa and Doug Giraffe, with a big pink satin bow tied around her neck”.
Since the baby, AKA says he only sleeps for three to four hours a day; instead of six.
“There is no balance in my life. I still need to find it. I am mentally tired, physically tired, I need a holiday, I need a break but there is just no time. My life is exploding, I am having a baby; I’m on tour and have interviews.”
Although reluctant to share his net worth, the 27-year-old divulges that he makes more than R100,000 ($7,500) from performing each month. He also has income from TV shows, and various business ventures. He designed a range of headphones, Bluetooth speakers and clothing items which are sold nationwide.
“I want to make sure my future is secure. By the time I hang the mic I should be able to provide a great life for my children and their children and children’s children.”
As the saying goes, “the man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones”. You could argue AKA is doing this. You can also argue he has had more than his fair share of stones thrown at him. No matter, AKA wants to be the king of African hip hop.

‘Why Should We Tolerate Being Ill-Treated?’

In a continent where music is the lifeblood of so many cultures, a generation of musicians and creatives from Lagos to Cape Town are at risk of falling by the wayside as more and more of them are robbed of their income by the greatest scourge to their industries – piracy.
According to a recent report from the International Federation of the Phonographic Industry (IFPI), legitimate content accounts for less than 10% of the music market in many African nations. Estimates put the proportion of Kenyan pirated music at 80% nationally. Growing up in Lagos, I have memories of sitting in traffic where CDs yet to hit the shops in Europe, let alone Nigeria, were offered through my car window.
Taking Lagos’ infamous Alaba Market as a microcosm of the broader situation, piracy dominates the distribution network, flooding the market with knock-off Nollywood films and bootlegged beats. For the original creators, while they may enjoy popularity, the financial rewards for their efforts range from minimal to non-existent.
This situation is replicated across the continent. In Malawi, artistes like Thocco Katimb end up distributing and selling their own music because intellectual property rights are not robust enough, and the middle men can’t be trusted to not leak CDs to be replicated. The situation in Malawi is complicated further by the government’s stance against musicians selling their music without the hologram copyright sticker as stipulated by the 1989 copyright act.
As a result, life for many creatives across Africa is unstable. Fellow musicians tend to work primarily for the love of their craft; the joy of their art is almost reward enough. But without suitable financial recompense, many talented Africans are being denied the chance to pursue their aspirations.
If the industry climate further dissuades young African talent from producing high-quality art, we as a continent risk losing an entire generation’s worth of cultural output. Who will be the next Fela Kuti? Where will the new 2face Idibia appear? How can Ghana see another Sarkodie, or Uganda another Chameleone, if the industry does not suitably reward those artistes whose music is in demand?
All is not lost, however, and there are areas that must be explored to combat content piracy.
Effective intellectual property protection is the most important step that national governments can take in countries like Nigeria, Malawi, and other flourishing cultural hotspots. In just the same way as encouraging business growth or attracting foreign investment, legal frameworks are central to ensuring that legitimate enterprise thrives.
A hologram on a CD is not enough; there must be suitable measures in place and the will to enforce them. Kenya destroyed over five million pirated items in 2013 and the Kenya Copyright Board has since begun actively monitoring illegal downloads. Other nations would do well to follow this example.
Beyond a crackdown, however, a progressive long-term solution may involve bringing content pirates into the legitimate system so as to better regulate their activity.
Returning to the example of Alaba Market, since 2008, the Nigerian government has been offering traders there the opportunity to sell pirated content legally in return for a registration fee. Legitimizing these circulation channels means artistes and record labels have begun signing distribution deals with established pirating outfits in an effort to recoup at least some earnings from their own intellectual property. While the legal environment catches up with reality, exploring ways to bring these traders into the fold may be a realistic way forward.
Technology also offers solutions, providing an alternate revenue stream for struggling artistes. Kenya’s Mdundo.com, a digital platform enabling music distribution without a recording label, has been touted as a potential saviour. For $1, customers can download five tracks via a code they receive on a scratch card.
Piracy in Africa is a significant threat not just to the creative industries but to society too, with much of the profit funding organized crime. From the greats of old like King Sunny Ade, Manu Dibango and Ali Farka Toure to the new kids on the block, African music has long had an important place on the global scene. The cold, rational argument for greater intellectual property protection is certainly needed, but a more emotional appeal to the will of all Africans to nurture and encourage our continent’s brightest talents is compelling. Both must be made with equal energy if we are to keep those lights burning.

DJ-Cuppi-etch

‘Who Will Be  The Next Fela Kuti?’

The music industry in South Africa for local artistes is not easy to navigate. LeAnne Dlamini should know, having been in it for almost 20 years now, she has done it all to find her own niche. Yet, does she have it all?
“In South Africa, I think people get so used to seeing your face and hearing your voice, that you are almost nothing to them anymore, and when you go outside the country, you get appreciated more which is so sad,” she rues.
Dlamini lived in Dubai and Los Angeles for a number of years before realizing the harsh truth that people back home were soon forgetting her.
“When you are out of sight, you are out of mind, that’s why I needed to come back.” But she also saw opportunity in returning home.
“I saw the potential. Other places are developed already, they have everything they need. I needed to come back to SA and be the next best thing in RnB because it is lacking [here]. Africa is definitely where it is happening. It doesn’t matter if everyone in LA knows you if back home no one knows who you are,” says Dlamini.
Growing up in a middle class family in Eldorado Park, one of Johannesburg’s infamous colored neighborhoods, Dlamini’s career began at the age of 13. She was part of the church choir, and also started a girl group in high school called Cherry.
“We wanted to be the Destiny’s Child of South Africa, but that didn’t happen, we hustled, went to record labels, everyone thought we were crazy,” says Dlamini.
The group did not make it but at least Dlamini’s solo career took off. She started singing for famous local artistes, one of them being Loyiso Bala.
“That’s when I was bitten by the bug, just being around Loyiso, just being in that studio environment, I loved it,” says Dlamini.
When she was only 22, Dlamini married her producer, Sipho Dlamini. While being a mother (she has two children) and wife will always be her first priority, it did somewhat lead her away from the path to stardom.
“I felt like my career needed a boost. But I wanted to do something that was out of my comfort zone. I didn’t want to record a track with a hip hop artiste or a house DJ, I wanted to do something I wouldn’t necessarily do here [in South Africa],” says Dlamini.
And she chose an offbeat route to make a comeback. In 2012, Dlamini packed her bags and headed to the United Kingdom, to enter the X Factor reality show. She received praise from the judges and qualified for the next round, almost making it to the final stages of the competition.
“Just for me to be there and hear the producers and judges tell me that was great, it was a boost,” says Dlamini.
It was just what she needed.
“I am now 30 and I can fully dive into my career and I feel like now is when my life is fully beginning. It feels like this is the first album that I’ve ever done. It’s insane,” says Dlamini.
And she proved just how ready she was in 2014 when she participated in Strictly Come Dancing South Africa. Dlamini made it to the semifinals, before she and her dance partner were sent home.
She is now working on her third album and hopes to release it later in the year.
Determined to be the superstar, Dlamini’s journey has been a long one and if she were to do it all over again, she would, she has no regrets.

LeAnnePublicityPromo2

If Not Destiny’s Child, Then What?

It only takes a few minutes with Florence Ifeoluwa Otedola to tell she wants to dominate the global entertainment stage. Badly. Luckily for her, talent is on her side. Oozing effortless elegance and charm, her conversation is characterized by infectious laughter and remarkable erudition. Otedola is clearly not your average beauty with brains.
The Nigerian-born DJ, otherwise known as Cuppy (her love for cupcakes as a child earned her the nickname, which stuck), wants to make sure Africa gets a fair share of the billion-dollar global entertainment industry. She is creating a raw new sound in Lagos, and its echoes are now being heard in the rest of the world.
The 22-year-old recently launched Red Velvet Music Group, a music management service and content production platform, which also currently manages her. She sees the brand gaining recognition in the entertainment sphere, through managing other artistes, and music distribution and publishing. For Cuppy, all this has been the culmination of a drive she has had from childhood.
“From a young age, I believe I have always wanted to prove myself in my own right. At that point, I never thought it would be music. I always had that ambition to conquer something though. Growing up with a very hardworking father [Nigerian business mogul Femi Otedola, who was featured on the cover of FORBES AFRICA last year] and a mother who told me ‘you could be whatever you want to be’, helped my drive from the beginning. Over time, I fell in love with music. Being a creative, I had always sought ways to express myself in ways that made sense to me. Music was it for me,” says Cuppy.
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DJing is the style of mixing two beat-oriented records into a seamless, foot-tapping listening experience. Over the past few decades, it has acquired pop cultural status, and for some like Cuppy, has become a viable career path.
From spinning the tunes at weddings and toddler parties to representing her country at platforms like the MTV Africa Awards in South Africa and the Financial Times Luxury Summit in Mexico last year, Cuppy’s key differentiator is her fusion of urban contemporary African music with western tunes, increasing the popularity of African music.
It is little wonder she was appointed tourism ambassador for her country’s ‘Fascinating Nigeria’ campaign.
She also represents the continent as the Africa intern at Roc Nation, a renowned entertainment company in New York and home to acclaimed artists such as Rihanna, Shakira and Rita Ora.
“Being born and bred in Lagos, a very culturally-rich city and having a western influence when I moved to the UK for my studies, opened my mind to a fusion of experiences. I started to find ways to express myself so that it was a good reflection of my two influential cultures in a way that was unique. I have memories of listening to Fela Kuti [famous Nigerian musician] in the car with my dad from the age of six. While I didn’t really appreciate it then; I was definitely moved.
“Being the resident DJ for the MTV Africa Awards was particularly special for me too because not only did I represent my home, Nigeria, I got to represent Africa. As a female DJ, it was so exciting for me to have been placed on that platform to send such a great message across for African women. At Roc Nation, I find myself soaking in lots of information, learning how it is all done and wanting to come home and make the changes or be part of it in my own way.”
And how did she get into DJing? Cuppy’s eureka moment happened as a teenager.
“I always wondered why the DJ was a man and what stood in the way of female DJs. I didn’t understand the sexism behind this and knew it must be possible for ladies to give the guys a run for their money.”
Driven by a strong desire, she dug into educational material and information on DJing, purchased second-hand equipment to practice with, spent time at DJ booths and with determination, began to tutor herself and hone her skills. By the summer of 2012, she knew she was ready to take on the industry.
“It is a personal journey I have been through but it is also really about finding something I wanted to focus on and be really great at too. I remember telling my parents when I was 16 that I wanted to be a DJ. My father said ‘go for it but if you will do it, be the best at it’. The positive pressure, push and moral support I received from then has been invaluable in my career. I love my job and I always say that when you find a job you love, you will never have to work a day again in your life,” says Cuppy.
As a voice of the new generation, Cuppy’s message to young people is derived from her experiences.
“I grew up in a time where I believe young people didn’t have as much a say as they do now. I’m almost like a young woman trying to be heard. For me, this comes from growing up in times where young people were told what they should do, how they should live and act. The word support shouldn’t translate to financial. It is also moral and that goes a lot further.”
“I grew up with education being non-negotiable. Being very competitive and seeing the importance that was attached to it, I was compelled to excel at it.”
Through her art, Cuppy hopes to inspire young African women to pursue their dreams regardless of societal constraints.
“Being a female coming into a male-dominated industry, first of all, you have to be comfortable, be a fighter and definitely be great at what you are doing. In my mum’s times, she would never have been allowed to become a female DJ for instance. It was simply unheard of. This is what it represents for me. The wheels are turning, times are changing and the voice of the new generation is being heard.”
Thankfully for her, DJing has become more widely acknowledged as a profession. On an international level, DJs have had to fight to remove the perception that they were second to artistes.
Cuppy is also exploring song-writing and producing.
“I’m constantly trying to push the envelope and be a better version of DJ Cuppy but I’m also careful not to spread myself thin. There is a growing pressure on African creatives to do a bit of everything but I believe helping each other out is a much easier approach…I don’t want to be like every other DJ. I want people to think ‘wow, she is a risk taker’.”
She has also been deeply influenced by fashion, African literature and art.
“For a long time, fashion has been a strong mode of expression for Africans. It is refreshing to see young designers bursting into the scene as well. There is a massive fusion between fashion and music presently which is really great. It is also a very lucrative field and capitalizing on this will be great for the continent.”
Cuppy describes her style as bouncy and chic with her favorite brands being Stella Jean or Mary Katrantzou.
On other career prospects, she highlights her entrepreneurial flair.
“I have always known I wanted to start my own company and really dominate in my own right…I would love to see African women as fearless and unique&#8230;We shouldn’t use the West as the benchmark. We need to start creating and setting our own platforms and be recognized on a global stage”.
In the male-dominated industry that she finds herself, Cuppy has her own experiences of prejudice.
“Being young, I am sometimes underestimated and my skills questioned before I play. I sometimes go into a meeting with my male manager who is always expected to be the DJ and addressed instead of me,” she notes.
As she readies for another busy year, Cuppy plans to tour the continent, lending her voice and urging young African women to follow suit. For now, Africa is dancing to her beats at the console.

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Spinning Records And Creating Some Of Her Own

It was in 1966 in Dahomey, old Benin. A little girl is standing under the glare of heavy spotlights at the Palais des Congrès de Cotonou, the majestic parliament building in the heart of the tiny West African country’s largest city.
She is only six and her slender legs sway and shake. Moments earlier, her mother, the theatre company director, had hurried her on to the stage. Her daughter was the only one who could fit into the sick soloist’s costume.
On stage, still shaking, the little girl forces the audience into laughter – they think it’s part of the program. She reads this as approval, she is the comedienne at home, and finds the courage to begin the song Atcha Houn. Her audience responds with shock and awe, the first of many apt reactions Angélique Kidjo’s voice would receive in her long and illustrious career.
Today, the 54-year-old songstress is radiant with confidence. After the death of her father, a photographer with progressive ideas, she began to return to her memories of the days before her award-winning music career. The memories, put to paper, became her seminal autobiography, Spirit Rising, released early last year. She  remembers her childhood as particularly happy and adventurous.
“I was a little girl, always running and jumping around our courtyard on skinny legs,” she says.
Kidjo grew up with music all around her. Her mother’s first love, traditional Beninoise musical theatre, ended when she was nine. However, soon after, the family took on another musical project investing in a number of Western style musical instruments in an ambitious plan to groom their seven sons into a homegrown version of the Jackson 5.
She, brimming with curiosity, wanted to be a part of this new sound.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-29817 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/Aija-Lehtonen-Shutterstock.com_-300x245.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="245" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Aija-Lehtonen-Shutterstock.com_-300x245.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Aija-Lehtonen-Shutterstock.com_-600x490.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Aija-Lehtonen-Shutterstock.com_-768x627.jpg 768w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Aija-Lehtonen-Shutterstock.com_-1024x836.jpg 1024w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Aija-Lehtonen-Shutterstock.com_.jpg 1023w" sizes="(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px" />
“After school instead of homework, I would stand in front of the kick-drum with my arms crossed and listen in awe as they rehearsed Get Ready by the Temptations in our little lounge.”
Soon, she was joining her brothers performing at a little bungalow bar on the Cotonou lagoon while still a schoolgirl. Her father would only let her perform two songs but it was something Kidjo looked forward to each time.
“Around midnight, my father would come to my bedroom I shared with my sister Mireille, to wake me. I was too excited to sleep, but I would pretend, holding my songbook and lying very still so I wouldn’t wrinkle my dress. I wore the same purple dress every time. My mother made it from fabric she used to sell&#8230;my father put his hand on my shoulder and gently shook me, telling me it was time to go.”
Decades passed, and Kidjo’s passion for music and performance did not wane. Instead, it took her to the bustling streets of Paris. Speaking to FORBES WOMAN AFRICA on the phone from London, Kidjo says that she was unwilling to compromise as an artist if she chose to stay in her country.
“In Benin, before the coup d’etat, it was a very easy-going country&#8230;and then the communist regime arrived and everything changed. The good teachers fled the country and education began decaying and music was hit because it was not possible to write your own music if you weren’t talking about the communist regime and the people in power. It was one thing I didn’t want to do. So the only option I had was to leave, otherwise I was going to end up in jail.”
On September 11, 1983, a 23-year-old Kidjo arrived in France. It was a chilly introduction to the odd European climate.
“I learned very quickly that when the sun is shining in Europe, it doesn’t mean heat like in Africa, sometimes the sun is out and you freeze your butt, for real!” she laughs about those early days in Paris.
Those days, unlike her childhood, were a challenge. She was living with her older brother, who was also a student in the city. Both of them had very little to survive and she often did odd jobs to make ends meet. But Kidjo says her mind was made up, she was going to be the musician she wanted to be on her own terms at all costs.
“It was not easy&#8230;my parents were not rich enough to send us money. It was very hard, I had to find work. I did babysitting, I did hotel room cleaning, I did hair-braiding, I was a back-up singer in a band. It was a matter of survival but I was free and that freedom had no price for me. As long as the work didn’t compromise my body or my brain, I didn’t mind working endless hours&#8230;”
The life of a musician came easily to her. She worked endless hours to make tuition to the prestigious Parisian jazz school, CIM. It was 1985 and she had just left a fledgling singing school in a hilly suburb of the city. The jazz school was in the 18th arrondissement and home to a burgeoning immigrant population. She took to learning, in earnest, the genre that would form the basis of the sound she is now famous for.
“I loved jazz because it helped me understand the connections between classical music, pop and African rhythms. I studied the way the musical notes flowed together,” she says.
Through a series of connections, Kidjo was introduced to Jasper van’t Hof, a celebrated Dutch pianist who was experimenting with traditional African beats. She joined his band Pili Pili soon after as a vocalist.
“Pili Pili was modern jazz with African lyrics and rhythms, and Jasper was a genius at improvisation&#8230;later on this music also had a great influence on my own jazz rhythms&#8230;the sound can be so complex and entrancing. It was my first glimpse of how to create something new out of the magic of traditional African music.”
Her time with van’t Hof’s band was a crucial step in her career. With them, she performed at the renowned Montreux Jazz Festival and often spent winters touring Germany where the band had a prominent following.
While still at CIM, Kidjo met her husband, jazz bassist Jean Hébrail. Together they composed a majority of her repertoire. As she grew more popular in the Parisian jazz circles, she met another key character in her history, a blue-eyed man named Chris Blackwell. She met him at the Island Records office in Paris.
“He was dressed very simply, just in a casual shirt, jeans, and sandals. If you passed him on the street, you would have no idea how rich and powerful he was.”
Blackwell gave Kidjo her big break in 1991, the record deal she had been working towards since she had landed, young and naive, from her home in Benin. She remembers having one stern condition.
“I told him, ‘I need to have the artistic freedom to sing what I want to sing and make the music I want to make’.”
Blackwell was true to his word. In 1992, her first mainstream album Logozo went to number one on the Billboard World Music Charts. She headlined at the Olympia Hall in Paris that year to rave reviews.
She recorded four more albums with Island Records, gaining her first Grammy award nomination in 1995 for the hit single, Agolo.
Two decades later, the determined girl from Benin has made her dreams happen and more. The Grammy award-winner is mother to a daughter currently at Yale University in Connecticut. At the same time, she is a UN Goodwill Ambassador, fighting for the rights of women of her continent.
Her heart remains rooted on African soil as her latest release, Eve, dedicated to the women of Africa, shows. Outside her music, Kidjo is also known for her cooking. Her book was initially imagined as a cookbook and she shares a few of her favorite recipes in the epilogue of her memoirs.
Despite her success, she still holds her beliefs on making it in the music business dear. Compromising on her artistic freedom is something she cannot fathom.
“One thing I learned as a young girl singing was always to be true to my inspiration, never ever give that up in order to please other people. If you cannot sing your song alone without instrumentation and be happy, don’t put it out there! You cannot be an artist thinking that you want to be somebody else. You need to know what kind of artist you want to be and why you want to be that,” she says.
Judging from the sheer scope and success of her career, these are words from the truly wise.

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Once Upon A Legend

Classical music is not popular music, but when The Muses, the South African string quartet, step on stage with their two violins, viola and cello, the audience instantly gets on its feet, on the dance floor.
That is because this quartet has mastered the art of reworking popular hits into classical masterpieces.
The group was founded in 2011 by former member and the group’s current manager Olivia Kotze. Early on, she learned that their success relied on rearranging popular songs such as Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey, Titanium by David Guetta and Rolling in the Deep by Adele.
“People like to recognize what they hear and what I experienced when we did more original tracks we didn’t get radio play… So we take something that people recognize and give it a twist,” says Kotze.
The current members of the group &#8211; Mia Snyman (29), Ruby Ngoasheng (26), Laetitia van Wyk (22) and Ashley Bodill (23) – are like a close-knit family. And like all families, they each bring something different to the table.
Snyman keeps everyone in check, Ngoasheng is the easy-going happy child, van Wyk, the youngest, often forgets to apply lip-gloss and put on heels before they perform, and Bodill is famous for her onstage booty hop.
Performing the way they do requires great technical perfection, they say, one that is acquired through hours of practice, not to mention personal sacrifices.
“When people study engineering or medicine, they start when they are 18 or 19. We’ve started playing since the age of five and building our careers,” says Snyman.
Van Wyk, who is in her final year at university, has had people tell her she should pursue another career because there is no money
in music.
But she is determined to prove them wrong.
“I could’ve studied something else… I could make a living with something else but I would never be happy,” she says.
Although the girls teach music on the side for extra cash, none of them have had to struggle, live in their cars or starve in pursuit of their dream. For them, performing isn’t about the parties, the money or designer clothes. It’s about giving the audience a memorable show, even when in sheer physical agony. Bodill recalls one such experience.
“I was at the shops one time and a guy kicked my toe nail off. I was rushed to hospital, got an injection and stitches and then went straight to the venue [for a show],” she says.
A few moments before The Muses took to the stage, Bodill passed out. She then recovered, got up, had a soda and performed as if nothing had happened.
“Our industry has highs and it has lows and the lows can be very dark and very scary… if you set a goal for yourself and you’re in that low, just remember why you started,” says Ngoasheng.
They only know too well that the show must go on, no matter what.

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Celebrating The Muse

David Gresham was the X-ray mechanic who interviewed John Lennon. He loved music and wrote songs but no one wanted to sing them.
One night, Gresham sat down in a tiny hall in Sandton, in Johannesburg, and found the solution to his problems singing Gaelic folk in front of 400 people. The singer was Sean Rennie, also a professional footballer and triple black belt karate fighter.
Months later, the struggling Gresham persuaded Rennie to record the song I’ll Walk With You. The song went on to reach the top 10 chart in South Africa. That success meant Gresham’s fledgling record company is still running 43 years later. In return, Rennie earned a little spot in South African history.
In September, Gresham honored the man who took a chance with his song.
“You know, that was the first time I was in a studio. I was so intimidated,” says Rennie.
“Really? But you recorded so well. I didn’t notice at all,” says Gresham.
According to Gresham, I’ll Walk With You was recorded in one of the cheapest and dingiest studios in Johannesburg. It cost the duo $1.50 per hour. In 1970, this money was half of Gresham’s monthly mortgage.
Gresham was a radio DJ and a composer. He desperately wanted to be an entrepreneur in music.
“I was always listening to music. When I was supposed to be learning how to fix medical machines, my desk was full of radios I had built instead. People kept shouting at me to turn it off. I couldn’t,” says Gresham.
Gresham got his foot in the door by landing a job as a sound editor. When he was 26, he chanced upon the editors of LM Radio, the famous pop station in Mozambique, at a jazz concert in Swaziland. In his young days he interviewed the likes of Ringo Starr, Tom Jones, Elton John, Bryan Ferry, Kenny Rogers, Engelbert Humperdinck and The Bee Gees.
In 1969, Gresham went to London to hunt down John Lennon. Lennon had been banned from South African radio after he was quoted saying that ‘the Beatles were bigger than Jesus’. Gresham tracked Lennon down at Apple Studios in London.
“Let me tell all Springbok Radio listeners, I am a follower of Christ and that’s it. And I would like to apologize to anybody who was offended,” said Lennon.
Springbok Radio refused to play their songs.
In 1964, Rennie, who was born in Dublin, came to South Africa from Belfast’s Crusaders Football Club to play professional football for Johannesburg’s Southern Suburbs. At the dawn of television in South Africa, Rennie hosted a folk song show. The 72 year old cringes at the memory of being on TV.  While living in South Africa for over 30 years, Rennie sang part-time, became a general manager in the motor industry, and gave up football to compete in dojos.
“In the off-season I joined a karate dojo, and I’m now a level three black belt… I thought to myself ‘I would rather participate on a karate floor’. Been in three tournaments, been disqualified twice,” he says.
Rennie is unwilling to give the reason for being disqualified but he does admit to running on the wrong side of the law as a teenager in Ireland.
“Every now and again you had to run away from the cops with their dogs. I remember playing with a band, The Cyclones, in Belfast. The lead singer, Jim Armstrong, ended up being voted the best guitarist in the American West Coast. We were walking home and it started to snow. We were suddenly confronted with two policemen and their dogs. It was a stand-up [fight]. It wasn’t easy to live under those conditions. But it prepares you heavily,” says Rennie.
Unlike many musicians who get tired of singing their hits, Rennie and Gresham still relish the sounds of I’ll Walk With You.
Rennie quips that the last time he sang the song was two weeks ago while alone in his house, in Kempton Park, Johannesburg, followed by a few of his other hits. He’s not shy to belt out the vocals either; he says he has no problem pulling out his guitar to satisfy a spontaneous request, be it in a bar, the changeroom or a party.
As entrepreneurs who have been in the business for more than 45 years, it’s unusual for them to be so cheerful, especially after they took a chance in the often messy world of music. It’s even more unusual that they are still friends after all these years.   FL

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You Sing It, I’ll Sell It. we hope!

The first time Efya held a microphone to sing at a church service in Accra, Ghana, she was so overwhelmed by the crowd’s resounding applause she broke down in tears while on stage.
She was only 10 years old—a little girl with a very big voice. Church members were left in awe and this is when she knew she had something special.
Many years later, Efya is a multi-award winning Afro neo-soul artist determined to put Ghanaian music on the world map.
I met with the effervescent entertainer at the Four Points Hotel in Lagos, where she shared her love for soulful African music and her hunger for world domination.
When did you know that you wanted to pursue music as a career?
I’ve been singing since I was six years old. My family was very involved in church activities. I liked to sing but I didn’t really discover my voice until I was 10 years old, when I sang to the church for the first time. I knew then that this was something I could take a lot further. When I was 18, I got into Stars of the Future—a musical competition held in my country in 2008. I came third in that competition.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-31222 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/Efya-6-of-95-200x300.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Efya-6-of-95-200x300.jpg 200w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Efya-6-of-95-300x450.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Efya-6-of-95-600x900.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Efya-6-of-95-768x1152.jpg 768w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Efya-6-of-95.jpg 683w" sizes="(max-width: 200px) 100vw, 200px" />
<h4>Did you have any other interests prior to this?</h4>
Before that, I always wanted to be a film editor. My parents were filmmakers. I was that child that would go out on location with them holding the boom and it was all very interesting to me. I also wanted to be a journalist for a long time.
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<h4>What did you do after Stars of the Future?</h4>
I was paired with the winner of the competition. We were called Irene and Jane—Jane is my English name—and we started performing everywhere. We did that for three years. We traveled a lot. We got nominated for the KORAs [an annual sub-Saharan Africa music awards platform] and won awards in Ghana. This was such an important step for me musically because I had a partner to work with and I really learned a lot.
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<h4>Education</h4>
In between all of this, I attended the University of Ghana and studied theater as a major and music as my minor. I’ve always been interested in the theater, especially African musical productions. Using my theater background and musical flair, I still intend to put together an African musical production where we create the music ourselves and use every inherently African element to present a world-class production.
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<h4>How did things progress from there?</h4>
After university, I was being managed by an artist management arm that I was with for two years and that’s where the Efya rebranding was created. We realized the kind of music I really wanted to do; I wanted to mix all genres and elements with soul which is the real basis of my music. I put out some songs and we started making hits. My first hit was called Little Things—it was written by Asem, a fellow musician.
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<h4>Your rise to fame has been meteoric. How did you manage your visibility in the industry?</h4>
I started traveling to Lagos frequently—it’s a huge market here. With the help of a few right people in the industry, I started getting my feet through the right doors and onto the right stages. We performed from Lagos, Port Harcourt to Abuja. I met Chin from Eclipse, who was instrumental to setting me up in Lagos. I had also been established with One Nation [a management arm] at this point. That’s how it all started coming together. I hadn’t put an album together and started receiving awards. This has been very humbling and I’m grateful for the drive it has given me to work and push my music further. We recently put out my first mix tape called This is not the Album.
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<h4>How far do you see African music spreading globally?</h4>
I believe strongly in the African dream. I believe we can change the perceptions of the Western world and African music can truly dominate. We can have everyone buy into this African dream. We have something unique and with the right steps in place, we can take control of the musical scene and this is the mission I’m on. I want to take my music to the world and have them appreciate it for being authentically African.
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<h4>Describe your music. Why is it sellable to the rest of the world?</h4>
I call it afro neo-soul. I always have African elements present in my music. I love the fusion. It gives the listeners a bit of everything. I could be doing some jazz but against an authentic highlife background or some reggae fused with some soul. I love the Ghanaian elements present in my music too. The beauty of the languages all works well together; it is different and I want to share this globally.
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<h4>What are your career highlights?</h4>
I’m grateful that I have been able to get this far. I’m blessed to have these opportunities. I won best female vocalist for three consecutive years and I’ve been so humbled by this. Every step of my career has been a highlight for me.
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<h4>What inspires you?</h4>
My mother is amazing. She was a single mother for a while and I admire and respect her for all that she achieved in spite of this. She is also heavily involved in philanthropy. Generally, I believe in giving back and people that do so inspire me. Philanthropy is very important to me as giving a little can go a long way in another person’s life. I want to give more than just music. Musically, I’m inspired by Mariam Makeba. I love her great vocal prowess and versatility.
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<h4>What were your biggest challenges?</h4>
I managed myself for a bit before I got the right management. It was not the best period and I think that phase was a learning curve. I appreciate what I have now and am glad I went through that in my career. We still have a few challenges ahead but with the right team and attitude, we will continue to succeed.

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Big Voice Bold Dream

I have two pet peeves—standing in long queues and filling out forms. When I found out that I could still get tickets to see the highly acclaimed Broadway adaptation of The Lion King in London, despite the scarcity of tickets, I was prepared to complete the lengthiest questionnaire and wait in the longest line.
It was worth it. The fine attention to visual artistry, on stage and in costume, combined with the storytelling and delivery was awe-inducing. The well-orchestrated Africanized pop music and rhythmic dance was the cherry on top.
For a few minutes, I was an excited kid again, until my companion, a born and bred Kenyan, expressed her utter disappointment at how much of a South African production it had become, saying the show once had a marked Kenyan influence. After a few minutes of diplomatic debate on the topic, the unusual nature of our conversation dawned on me. Now, I am willing to debate a big blockbuster release at the cinema or Olivia Pope’s latest shocking act, or even the previous night’s match between Arsenal and  Chelsea—not how much of a country’s influence was evident in a Broadway production.
As curiosity and doubt swirled through my mind, I decided to engage fellow Africans on their thoughts on theater. To my surprise, very few were interested. The question was thrown back at me: Is there a place for theater in Africa?
There have been some great productions mushrooming across the continent in the past few years. Fela! on Broadway was a spectacular repertoire of many of Fela Kuti’s captivating songs performed by a great cast. UMOJA, staged across South Africa, was another sublime show. More recently, SARO The Musical, a Broadway-styled and Nigerian-owned stage production signaled the revival of African theater. Clearly, Africa has a role on the global stage.
Traveling around the globe is another African trend. Being Nigerian, I’m privy to the fact that we love to travel far and wide. I dare you to find a spot on the world map that does not have a small Nigerian community present. Even more fascinating, is that Nigerians travel with their culture and some often refuse to assimilate into their new homes. As I attempted a morning jog on a cold London street, I heard the roaring blast of D’banj’s Oliver Twist blaring from an apartment block. To my surprise, it was accompanied by a yell, in pidgin, the informal lingua franca spoken across Nigeria and some West African countries: ‘Dat music dey loud, you wan cause wahala with the neighbours?’ (The music is too loud, are you trying to cause trouble with the neighbors?)
It was welcome comic relief on my lazy run, but I also smiled at how much of a global village the world is becoming. Regardless of where you go, you can always take a piece of home with you.
No one knows this better than the Caribbean community. I have a few friends from the famous islands and one thing is certain: from Barbadians to Jamaicans and Trinidadians; all are wonderfully expressive—both on and off the dance floor.
I was in a store recently, when two Jamaican ladies walked in—one of them saw my shoes and exclaimed, ‘Girl! Those shoes are just very dutty dutty!’ Her friend echoed her thoughts. I walked away with a confused smirk on my face, while inspecting my shoes for some dirt.
A quick consultation with one of my Jamaican friends solved the puzzle.
“They meant that your shoes were really, really nice,” she said laughing.
Whether it is travel, theater or language, one thing is evident—it is a new dawn. A subconscious revolution is taking place and Africans are embracing all that is inherently African. I like that I can get a decent plate of Jollof rice while in New York because someone else brought my food culture with them. I am thrilled that Ankara fabrics are no longer only seen on women in the streets of Lagos and Accra. It is refreshing to know that there is a place for African music beyond the shores of the recording artist’s home and whether it is being said in Nigerian pidgin or Jamaican Patois, a universal language is emerging. So the opening tune to The Lion King, whether it is in Zulu or Swahili, does not matter to me—it’s African.

Tag: Music

FORBES AFRICA SOCIAL MEDIA

The Sound Of A Booming Business

“Every Time I’m On Stage, I Feel The Emptiness”