In 1969, Albert Mazibuko had about the same rights as dirt.
As a black man under apartheid in South Africa, he couldn’t vote, couldn’t marry outside of his race, couldn’t even travel without official permission.
Sometime that year, Mazibuko’s cousin, Joseph Shabalala, asked him to sing in his group, Ladysmith Black Mambazo. The group borrowed heavily from a style of soft a capella singing called isicathamiya (is-cot-a-ME-Ya), which was born in the mines of South Africa.
Now, nearly 40 years later, LBM’s trajectory has often mirrored that of their native country – from the hopeless depths of apartheid to a freedom sometimes marred by violence.
On January 15, LBM released Illembe: Honoring Shaka Zulu, the latest in a prolific career that has included more than 50 albums, two Grammy Awards and performances for the Queen of England and Pope John Paul II.
It is a career that has been defined by music as escape – whether from apartheid-era police or personal tragedy (Shabalala’s wife was shot and killed in 2002; his brother, former LBM member Headman, was also shot and killed in 2004; and another brother and former member, Jockey, died in 2006). To be fair, the group has also seen its share of music as celebration – in 1994, LBM sang at Nelson Mandela’s inauguration after the first democratic elections in South African history.
The group might have remained a South African treasure if not for its appearance on Paul Simon’s groundbreaking album, Graceland. That album, and the subsequent tour, brought LBM worldwide recognition and appearances on “Saturday Night Live” and the cover of Rolling Stone.
Glide caught up with Mazibuko, one of two remaining original LBM members (with Shabalala), to discuss the new album, his career and the hardest part of being a musician under apartheid.
The new album starts with “O Mmu Beno Mmu” – a very striking song.
This is a very important song. This is a song that, in fact, we are talking about the people who are powerful. But we didn’t want to mention any names because it refers to everyone. It means that any people who have power, if they come together, they can achieve great things. But most of the time, which is sad, when people have power, each and every one wants to go separate ways. But if they come together and do things together, they will achieve so much.
I notice the repetition of musical phrases in many of your songs. For instance, on the new album in “Kuyafundw’ Osizini (Illembe),” you sing the same five-note phrase for almost three and a half minutes as Joseph sings verses over it. Does the repetition signify anything?
It’s just the rhythm. Most of that, when we repeat the same thing, it’s because we want to get the rhythm down, because our singing is not complete until you are able to dance on that song. So, after we’ve chosen the words, we repeat them and put the rhythm on it, and then we can dance on that or do whatever we want to do with that, and Joseph can go and tell the story between the rhythm.
So the words determine how the dances will go?
Not the words, but the rhythm. The words always tell the story.
The group has always had a sense of preserving the Zulu history and traditions, and this album is dedicated to Shaka Zulu, the 18th century leader. Where does that connection with history come from and what does it mean for the group?
It means encouragement and inspiration for the group because Shaka Zulu is always encouraging us. We were told by our fathers that he is a courageous man, a man who believes in perfection and that whatever you do, you should be the best. This album, we are trying to encourage people, especially the young people who always have some excuses when they don’t achieve something. They say, “Maybe my background is not right,” but Shaka, he achieved so much. We say there is no excuse. Just believe in yourself, and do what you do and do it right.
In 1987, you had an album called Shaka Zulu. Is there a reason why this one figure has had such a big role in your music?
It’s because the name Shaka, it’s a name that reminds us that there is someone who achieved things, so why can’t we do better than that?
How do you write and work out these songs? Are there instruments involved in the writing?
No, no instruments involved. You know, it’s so simple when Joseph writes the music – after he writes the song, he comes with the song to the group and he just sings the song. When he sings the song, it is our tradition that everyone knows what parts they can sing, and we just sing the song from there. And he will listen to it and say, “Ok, maybe if you can sing it this way or you can sing it that way,” and we discuss the song and decide what we can put out or what we can leave in. So, then we can just check the story and see if it makes sense or not.
Is it hard to keep the rhythm and the pitch of the songs going with no other instruments to guide them?
It’s challenging. I cannot say it’s hard because we believe that there’s nothing hard. But it’s always a challenge. It’s very challenging just to tell the story exactly and then get the rhythm and melody and everything in order, so you need to practice just to get it right.
So it just comes from years of doing it?
Oh yes, absolutely.
You lived a lot of your life in South Africa under apartheid. What was that like, especially as a musician?
It was very challenging. It was very difficult, that time. The difficult part, it was the traveling, because when we started to be famous in South Africa, we had some invitations to come play in other towns. As a black person at that time, you had to have permission to travel for that particular city or town. So every time when we travel, we got ourselves into trouble with the police. They were always stopping us and asking where we were going and if we had permission.
You know what happened? I don’t know how it happened, but it happened all the time – when they would stop us, Joseph would just start a song and then we sang for them. Every time they let us go. They said, “This is great.” It was amazing. And then we laugh at ourselves, “Why do we do this all the time?” But it was the only way we could answer these questions they were asking us. So it worked all the time until we were advised that we should get permission. We were the first group to get traveling permission in South Africa. I don’t know what happened with it after our independence, I think maybe we lost it.
How do you feel South Africa has adjusted to independence?
I think we are very fortunate in South Africa, because South African people are able to sit down and put aside their differences. We don’t have all this kind of separation, so our country is very free. I think it’s just that we were lucky that we had somebody like Nelson Mandela, because he is the one who put all people together. When he came out from jail, everybody was saying, “Ok, these people are oppressing us, so let’s fight them or chaste them.” But he said, “No, let’s forgive one another and embrace one another,” and they had a truth commission so everyone could tell what’s done and then apologize and forgive everything. It was put behind everyone.
What did it mean to you to sing at Mandela’s inauguration?
That was wonderful. I remember joking, I said, “Wow, how come we’re here in this place? If someone could wake up from the dead now, they’d say what are all these people doing here?” It was a great experience.
The way I first heard of you, and I think the way a lot of Americans were introduced to your music, was through Paul Simon’s Graceland album. What was that experience like, and what is your feeling about it more than 20 years later?
I’ll never forget that because that was a great achievement for the group. I remember the first time we met Paul Simon in England in the studio. Before that, he met our leader Joseph Shabalala and after that he (Paul Simon) sent a demo to us. He was singing by himself only two lines (from “Homeless”): “Homeless, homeless / The moonlight sleeping on the midnight lake,” and he was playing a piano. He said, “Don’t change this because I took it from one of your records I was listening to, and you can add any words.” And so we began the song in Zulu lyrics.
When we went to the studio to record the song, it was so challenging. We tried to record the song, but we couldn’t. It didn’t work, until the sun set and then Paul Simon said, “Ok, let’s call it a day and go back to our hotel.” When we were in our hotel, we had dinner and after that we pray, and we had the song because we recorded an idea of what Paul Simon was looking for. And the next day when we got into the studio, we told Paul Simon, “We have been rehearsing. Do you want to listen to this, what we have been rehearsing?” And we just sang for him and he said, “This is it.” And then the song was done in two hours.
I wanted to ask about a sound that is in a lot of your songs, and I’m curious if it has any meaning to it. A lot of times in the middle of a song, someone will make a “Brrrrrru” sound (starting low in the register and going up in a glissando).
Those are the trademark of Ladysmith Black Mambazo. In fact, that one we took from the farm. There is a particular ox, it has a long horn, so in order for you to be able to put the yoke on top of that animal, you have to talk to that animal. In the language we use, the word means “Just bend down.”
And then, the other one, we say “AH-shah.” That one, it was done by my grandfather when he was doing the gumboot dance. My grandfather was a gumboot dancer, so every time he did it, he used to say those exclamations.
Isicathamiya seems to have come from very similar conditions that American blues music came from, but the result is calm and peaceful and very different. Why do you think that is?
I think the connection might be because these kinds of music, as you say American blues and this kind of music, have been born in a working place. I think when people are working, they have the same mood. They want some music that’s going to maybe soothe them or empower them. Because isicathamiya music, it was born in the mines when the people were away from home. So, on the weekends they would try to entertain themselves. I think that’s why it is so elated. I notice that a lot even myself, so I conclude that it is the music of taking away that loneliness when the people are away from home.
There seems to have been quite a bit of tragedy, with some violent deaths in the group recently. Does the music to help you deal with it?
(Sadly) Yeah, yeah, we need to keep playing the music. I remember when his brother was murdered, we were so shaken. But, we talked among ourselves. We said, “This guy, he liked the music, so he would like to see us carry on singing.” And I remember at his memorial service, we sang a song that was just recorded and wasn’t even released. That song was saying that the devil has been conquered. By singing those kinds of songs, we found we became stronger because we are preaching peace, so let’s live peace. Let’s forgive the other people and then carry on with our singing.
I tried to count how many albums you have and I think I got to something like 50.
It’s more than 50 now. I lost count (laughs), but it’s more than 50.
What drives you to make a new one?
It’s because we always see the challenges around us and it needs to be told. And we can see that people need encouragement and inspiration, something that’s going to keep them going. So that brings the music all the time.
