Zolani Mahola's new solo album, People Power is storytelling royalty!

On Tuesday, 29 September, the media, Zolani Mahola’s fans, and music lovers in general assembled at MamakaShaka and Friends in Braamfontein for what they thought would be a preview of her new solo project, People Power.

However, Zolani’s guests found themselves in an intimate session where the artist not only walked down memory lane but also looked to the future in a moving presentation of art.

The evening started with a lazy energy, with guests meandering about and Zolani chatting with some of them, while others nibbled on some of the venue’s culinary offerings and sipped on their bar purchases.

Was that a performance or combustion?

But once the music started, it was almost as if a combustive spirit had taken over the atmosphere. The thing about fire is that when you first ignite it, it starts off small, almost as if you have the power to contain it. But as the flames gain traction, there is absolutely nothing you can do to control it.

This fire was Zolani’s performance. She tried to maintain her composure, claiming that it was not a performance and trying to remain in her seat. But musical instinct kicked in, and, in a trance-like state, Zolani got up from her chair on countless occasions to sing and dance her heart out.

Throughout the performance, no song was without its own truth, reflection, and emotive journey. And when she introduced us to Sondela, announcing that "Liyaqhubeka ibali" [the story continues], it completed the picture that had holes in it for those of us who grew up on Nomvula during her Freshlyground days. Sondela is derived from this song.

Not only has she, alongside Aaron (whom she has worked with for two decades and who also co-produced this new body of work), elevated Nomvula’s arrangement, but she also connects the dots from the small child who had no idea that she had lost her mother.

"Izandla ezincinci zalahla uthuthu eluthuthwini zingasazi nesizathu" [tiny hands threw dust to dust without clearly comprehending why].

Now a full-grown woman who has walked her own path through marriage, separation, and countless new beginnings. In the track You're in Exactly The Right Place, Zolani says "You picked the perfect time to meet me."

Listen before you go. You're in Exactly the Perfect Place on Spotify.

This is my favourite track because I have walked my own path toward the embrace of people and experiences that picked the right time to meet me.

Look, Zolani Mahola is not just a singer. Hers is a talent that cannot be reduced to a singular adjective or confined to a monotonous artistic existence because the woman is a storyteller. And when she describes her artistry as eclectic, I get a sense that I didn’t misread a single note.

People power!

I don't call her a storyteller out of politeness. In between losing herself to the music and delivering an orgasmic performance, she weaves in prose, spoken word and poetic interpretations of her life experiences.

“We must honour those who came before us because we are here because they were. Because of them, we all have a story. Our country has a story, our continent has a story, the world has a story.”

“The heart of this album is the idea of people. What does it mean to actually see humanity in each other, and what does it mean to honour the story of the world we want to create?” Zolani said, almost challenging her guests to introspect.

But even musically, Zolani is not monotonous. In the track People Power, she takes us on a Reggae sing-along infused with traditional Xhosa influences. Did I mention that this artist cannot be confined to genre stereotypes?

Ndiyagowa with Moonchild Sanelly is absolute Xhosa hun magic. Duets across the genders are great, but there's a certain majestic energy about woman-to-woman collaborations that totally dismantles societal claims about women allegedly hating each other. This song is exactly that.

She also honours the Kaapse Klopse, who are the descendants of Malay slaves who have kept their culture alive through carnivals playing ghoema drums, brass, banjos and gow horns. Sadly, this place where we are safe in the street, which she calls "the Gek" in this tribute, is but an illusion.

Yet, in Halala, she pays tribute to the children of 1976 who laid down their lives so we could have the somewhat integrated South Africa we live in today, a South Africa they envisioned but passed away before they could experience.

"They are a symbol across the world today," she says of these young heroes.

"If I told you that together we'd be better, would you join us?" she asks in the song. And as we embrace our multiculturalism, this is a question all South Africans should ask themselves. In Zolani's words, may the stories of these young people inspire us so that we continue to inspire upcoming generations.