It feels as if it were yesterday. In 2002, after returning to Frankfurt from a record-hunting trip to Johannesburg, I put one of my new South African discoveries on the turntable and jumped into the shower. Suddenly, the record player erupted into a terrible noise, as if someone were hammering the needle. I ran out, dripping wet, and discovered that the stylus had hit a deep cut carved into the vinyl. A Kenyan friend, Dan Ojwang, had sent me to a record shop opposite the Market Theatre in Newtown, a place filled with thousands of records, many of them discarded SABC library copies from the apartheid-era Radio Bantu Diskoteek. Stamped “SABC Cancelled,” these records had been removed from the broadcaster’s collection. During apartheid, the SABC maintained its own censorship system, marking records considered unsuitable for airplay and often physically damaging them with knives, razors, nails or any sharp object available. Their sleeves carried labels such as “Avoid,” “banned,” “restricted” and “not suitable,” alongside handwritten Afrikaans notes like “nie goed nie” and “afgekeur.” At the time, I bought them for a dollar or two, guided mostly by their artwork and labels such as City Special, Soul Jazz Pop and Atlas City. I had no idea that these cheap records would become the foundation of a future compilation.
Several songs from that Johannesburg discovery stayed with me, especially “How Long?” and “Take It,” which had fortunately survived the censors. Yet most of the tracks on Sound City Joburg were found in Zimbabwe, a country I visited frequently between 2001 and 2005, when Analog Africa was still intended to become a label devoted entirely to Zimbabwean music. As the years passed, the project slowly took shape across borders. Collectors Roger Joffe, Chris Miller and Daniel Marire later suggested several essential additions, including “Crazy Baby,” “Soweto Sporo,” “Swing Africa,” “Sana Lwam” and “Kiba.” The songs share a common spirit: soul, funk and disco intertwined with Afrobeat, jazz and reggae, all transformed by distinctly African rhythms and sensibilities. To understand the world that produced them, we sent Volkan Kaya to Johannesburg, where he joined forces with legendary musician Lulu Masilela. Together, they travelled through the townships, meeting musicians, producers and singers and reconstructing the story behind the recordings.
During the 1960s and 1970s, American soul and funk crossed the Atlantic and found new life in South Africa. Local musicians absorbed those sounds and fused them with traditional rhythms, jazz and township dance music, creating what became known as Township Soul. This was not imitation, but transformation: foreign influences were reshaped until they belonged to Johannesburg. Every township had its champions, from The Movers, Flaming Souls, Anchors and In-Laws in Alexandra to The Beaters—later Harari—The Care Frees and The Young Ones in Soweto. Despite police harassment, pass laws and curfews, musicians performed in shebeens, garages, halls, theatres and clubs, sometimes playing through until sunrise at legendary 6-to-6 gigs known as akulalwa, or “no sleeping at the gig.” A network of labels, studios, record shops, talent scouts and venues helped the scene flourish, guided by the influential producers known as the Big Five: Rupert Bopape, Hamilton Nzimande, Strike Vilakazi, David Thekwane and West Nkosi. With help from collector Vusi “El Metalo” Hlatywayo and writer Sam Mathe, we assembled the stories, photographs and rare recordings that make up Sound City Joburg, presented here in a 16-page magazine-format booklet.
