How Matshidiso saved Kgotla

| Friday March 6, 2009 00:00

'Matshidiso o ntshenya ka monyenyo/Ngwana wa thupa tsa maretlwa/O ntshenya ka molebo/Nna ke rata wena fela' and there go perhaps some of the most romantic lines since one folk poet/guitarist called his lover, 'Ngwana wa mmala wa legodimo'.

Matshediso, the song that is, has become an anthem on the local music scene. A romantic's dream the song proves beyond doubt that 'Setswana se romantic brah yaaka', says the hit composer Afropop singer Kgotla (Mike Mogotsakgotla Kgaodi).

Matshidiso, the girl and the subject of the song, and Kgotla share a curious history, that of the object of admiration and the secret admirer.

A few years ago, the singer met, well, admired from a distance, his boss's beauty of a girlfriend. 'Matshidiso was a girlfriend to my boss. I used to look at her, ngwana yole!!!.

And then one day I said: 'I should write a song about this girl,' he says, his eyes lighting up. He touches his trademark goatie for a while and then squints his eyes like a naughty kid pondering the full weight of his recent sin.

Kgotla is at Khwest Caf in the centre of the city and the sun is just rising from its early morning slumber. Waiters walk about. It is sparsely occupied, with a few patrons nibbling on this and that, but mostly taking their morning 'caffeine shot'.

After admiring the lady for a while, for months, he came up with the song. 'I told her one day, wena ke a go kwala pina ka wena waitse.

The inaccessible beauty has always been a topic among young people, especially young men. The secret admirer occupies that rarified space of watching, unseen, and thus at liberty to enjoy the object of his admiration untainted by his prey's self-consciousness.

She always waltzes in and out of the secret admirer's view, unaware of the eyes on her.

The poet is unseen and therefore, has the liberty to make his object whatever he wants it to be; to sculpt his own meaning out of the object. That is a poet's dream. It is a precarious situation to be in, but an artist's dream nevertheless. And thus with Matshidiso, Kgotla was given a present to write a song that would put him on the map, and ultimately define his career's early development.

The song has come to symbolise his own career.  Kgotla started, he says, with a playful humming exercise in the studio after a request from his friend, and now producer Tshepo Lesole a few years back. 'At the time I did not think I could perhaps perform or even record an album,' he explains.

Lesole, told him Matshidiso could be a hit. 'He told me to record the song. I was reluctant, but anyway he convinced me, so we recorded the song.'

They burned the demo, a single track, and played it on the car music system driving home.  'I thought it was okay, but Lesole thought we should record an album. We said 'okay, we will record the album as time goes on, funds permitting'.

Kgotla went back to his day-job, saving little from his funds, towards the album.

'The rest of the songs came after we were really sure we were recording an album,' adds Kgotla.   In other words, the rest of the songs were accompaniments to Matshidiso.

The album, Ke Nako, is an Afro-pop mix with a touch of gospel and some House-influenced songs. It is better than recent local releases in the same genre, consisting of fewer but good songs.

Every track holds its own but Matshidiso, Moratiwa and Ntate, the last a gospel offering, seem to stand out. The album for a change does not have the half-baked hollow sound of a hurried job, an affliction of many Afro-pop releases in recent history.

However, it is to the next album that Kgotla is looking forward. He says it will be something much more mature, still Afro-pop but with a live band feel. 'I want to graduate from the recorded stuff, and I have been rehearsing with a band for the past months, and it's great,' he says.

Live performance often points to a much more mature audience. 'Yah, I am looking to also go corporate, I want to get there. But the live stuff is more of my own artistic choice, I want to do it that way,' he argues.

'Baby, phularo ya ga go e nrokotsha mathe/pounama ya gago e a nkgogela/baby, tla kwano o nkitse ke go itse', in between nervous almost naughty laughter, Kgotla recites lines from a song in his upcoming album. As all other lyrics from at least the most recognisable of his songs these lyrics Kgotla agrees, prove,  a number of points. Firstly, that Setswana is possibly the most romantic language under the sun, and secondly, that he writes lyrics that can make 'us pause, and appreciate our ladies', and lastly implicitly, that it is perfectly right to note the physical attributes of a woman, 'it's not about sex'. 

The last two points show the catch-22 that crooners like Kgotla, who often are either religious, or have a history of being such, find themselves - to serenade a woman or not to.  Kgotla started singing at church. The church has always been uncomfortable with musicians who perform love songs, but incidentally it is at the church where most musicians in Afro-pop, Soul and R n B, the genres steeped in serenading love, are groomed. D'Angelo, the god of neo-soul was a church singer before he went and cooed 'I wanna lay you down/ Kiss you all/All around/All around/Making you feel it/Let me do what I, anything I want with you' to the chagrin of many a preacher.

Many R n B legends point to the church for their musical upbringing, but the jump from church-choir singing boy or girl to R n B star is often fraught with pastor conflicts. R n B and Soul some have said, are really gospel, but instead of praising the Lord, the singer praises a lover.

Kgotla says Afro-pop is the nearest thing to gospel. 'The thing is that because a believer is so close to his emotion. In love songs the singer finds the closest thing to what you find at church, love. It's just romantic love,' he argues, adding that this explains why many church-goers often turn to soul or Afro-pop when they go mainstream.

Kgotla says singing about love has not always been his former preacher's favourite topic.

'I had a preacher who criticised me, he thought I was bringing the devil into the church singing that stuff,' he says, however, he argues that he has found his spiritual home at his current church. There are no conflicts with the preacher over the content of his lyrics.

Kgotla, a Christian, believes that as long as he sings and he is successful at it, it is evidence that God approves. 'Otherwise, he would let me know immediately if he does not approve of it.' How does a religious man survive in an industry known for its fair share of hedonistic escapades?

'Five hours before a show, majita ba a itse, I lock myself in the loo, and I talk to my God.

I thank him for what he has done for me and ask him for more guidance.'

No after-parties? 'No. After every show, I drive each of my guys home and then I go and sleep. 'I am not perfect, but I try to be disciplined. It's very important,' he adds.

He says the first time the song was played radio host Thabiso Nasha, told his listeners: 'This is the next hit.'

He pauses for a few moments and shakes his head in disbelief. On that day whenNasha played the demo, Kgotla sat on his bed, head in his hands, and tears welled up in his eyes. 'I just cried my man. I didn't celebrate, I just cried,' he adds.

It has been upwards and forwards since. 'Massive airplay, massive shows, it's been a great time,' he adds with a smile across his face. He then runs his palm across his cleanly-shaven head. And for all of this he has to thank God, Nasha, Lesole and...well, Matshidiso of course.