Mandla Mlangeni’s trumpet blows the sounds of blackness as beautiful young and established jazz players lit a fire in the austere DSG hall. With the opening track dedicated to those without a home, the aptly titled Homeless blew me away; I didn’t expect such a young man to play such distilled — awaiting to be
Mandla Mbothwe’s directing of G7: Okwe-Bokhwe opens a deep wound. That wound returns us to the storms veiled by the rainbow continuously forced down our South African throats under the rhetoric of ‘let bygones be bygones’. But, left unresolved, these bygones do not just fly on into the sunset. They fester painfully, deep under the
Giant speakers armed with the trumpeting sounds of Fredrik Noren dunking and dipping first to third valves of the trumpet echo through Saint’s Bistro. Nicholas Williams on piano transports you out of any grey areas through black and white keys. The sound of the Gretsch cymbals played by Kevin Gibson continuously hit you into reality.
Endless smoke of sage fill the air. Qudus Onikeku’s choreography and solo dance moves portraying the Yoruba’s spirit child is a journey, not a performance. “We are going to agree to go on a journey. This is not a show. On this journey, knowledge won’t help you”. The choreography is an out of body