'Dali Ngiyakuthanda Bati ha-ha-ha'

This set of 24 songs by guitarist and singer-songwriter George Sibanda of Bulawayo is a bulwark against the forces of fogetfulness and neglect that have buried much important folk and popular music from southern Africa, especially music of the pre-Independence years. This is among the final releases in Sharp Wood Productions' admirable CD series drawn from the field recordings of South Africa's pioneering, musicologist Hugh Tracey. Tracey first recorded Sibanda in 1948, and Sibanda's jaunty, tuneful songs quickly became popular radio hits in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe and Zambia), Nyasaland (Malawi), Kenya and especially South Africa, where the singer's playful, Sindebele lyrics were understood by Zulu-speakers, a huge audience. The songs themselves were so good that they were soon widely imitated, finding their way into the repertoires of local mbira players in Rhodesia, and eventually, musicians as far afield as Ramblin' Jack Elliott (1964) , Arlo Guthrie (1976) and Taj Mahal. Or course, by then Sibanda was gone. He spent much of his considerable earnings on alcohol, and drank himself to death before the 1950s were out.

The sleeve notes tell us that Sibanda was "arguably sub-Saharan Africa's first real music star," also a "flash in the pan," but beyond that, we know stunningly little about the man. Despite sustained effort, Sharp Wood could not even come up with a photograph of Sibanda. For an artist adored by radio audiences in four or five countries for a decade, this seems incredible, but it speaks volumes about the disposability of musicians in southern African nations at the brink of radical change. Looking at Southern Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) alone, folksy music like Sibanda's was soon occluded by the burgeoning Bulawayo jazz band scene, which riveted audiences with its worldly, urban polish. In the 1960s, rock 'n roll hit, diminishing the jazz scene considerably, and then came the rise of local Shona pop, which came to dominate everything in the 1970s and 80s. By the time the smoke of the liberation war had settled, George Sibanda was remembered as a name from the far distant past.

First and foremost, these recordings attest to a great songwriter. Tracks like "Dali Ngiyakuthanda Bati ha-ha-ha," "Chuzi Mama," "Guabi Guabi," and "Dlala Laiza" have melodies that stick after a single listen, and increase their grip on the soul with time. Sibanda's jaunty, syncopated guitar accompaniment--at times reaching to fill the space of a whole band--is also memorable. The influence of American styles, particularly "ragtime"--mentioned by name in "Chuzi Mama"--is strong, with lots of bouncy syncopation, on-beat bass lines set of with jangly, offbeat melodies and a beat that won't quit. There are also intriguing Africanisms in the guitar style. "Ungahamba no Tsotsi" unfolds over a strong downbeat, and includes a hint of a the sliding bass lines that would later emerge powerfully in Zulu maskandaand mbaqanga. A number of songs also include swooning, swelling vocal melodies associated with these styles, as well as spoken sections interspersing the singing. Overall, though, the music feels rooted in American fingerstyle folk and ragtime, or else Christian hymns bolstered with a strong dose of syncopation, and the occasional dominant seventh chord--though no real tint of the blues.

The song texts offer a window into the social concerns of the time--the ravages of thieves or tsotsis, the challenges of courtship in the African townships, and in few instances the pain and suffering of poverty. Mostly, the feeling is up and happy, even when trouble is the subject. One of the songs that would reach America, "Guabi Guabi" includes the suggestive lyrics, "Listen, boy, I have a girl at the compound. I am going to buy her buns, sweets and a banana." "Kuyini Loku?" tells of a young man's determination to marry, no matter how many cattle it costs. Brideprices paid in cattle were an institution among the Ndebele, and in this song, Sibanda embraces the tradition gleefully. A number of songs reflect the perspective of a migrant worker, like "Yinidaba Wena, My Boy," sung in miners' language Fanakalo, and telling a kid there's no work at the mine.

These performances stand up well and will be of great interest to fans of African and American folklore alike. This is not the complete set of Sibanda's recordings; nearly of these tracks come from the singer's first three years as a recording artist (1948-50), apparently his golden era. For Tracey as a pop music impresario, Sibanda was the warm-up for his important work with the Congolese guitarist/singer/songwriter John Bosco Mwenda, who would go on to have enormous impact and to survive and perform as late as the late 1980s. But Sibanda's legacy is important. Many prominent musicians in southern Africa have cited him as an inspiration. Thanks to this collection, Sibanda's contribution won't be forgotten altogether.

Contributed by: Banning Eyre for www.afropop.org