In Defense of Zim DanceHall

Zim DanceHall has been taking a lot of heat lately. Scratch that: Zim Dancehall has taken plenty heat since its advent in earnest ten or so years ago. It is a rip-off of Caribbean music; the lyrics are shallow at best and vulgar at worst; the practitioners are uncouth- you’ve heard the gauntlet of lambasting before!

And yet, the genre continues to thrive. Not only is it undoubtedly the sound of Urban Zimbabwe, it’s becoming a mainstay of the spectrum of spaces- from the classroom to the pulpit to the political stage. So what gives? How do we reconcile this barrage of criticism with madhudhucha’s apparent resilience? In this article, I posit that most of the criticisms are unfair, misguided, and come from a place aloof from the genre. Indeed, while some admonishing is due for irresponsible lyrics and artists, this has to be addressed as part of a dynamic and increasingly diverse culture and not as the end-all and be-all of the genre.

So let’s address the popular criticisms one by one.

1. It is not original

This is one of the most touted derisions of the genre: it has merely lifted Jamaican Dancehall sound and culture- down to the concept of riddims, video concepts, and bad imitations of the Patois dialect. These criticisms, although somewhat valid, are in no way unique to Zim Dancehall- locally or otherwise. Rock ’N’ Roll music grew out of the Blues, Hip-Hop grows out of a combination of the Blues and Caribbean- descendant New Yorker DJs playing around with the island culture of microphone chanting, hip hop itself would go on to influence reggaeton and you can’t tell me you didn’t listen to 1980s Brenda Fassie and hear shades of Donna Summer. Even locally (let’s keep it all the way real), Reggae was all over the sounds of Andy Brown and others throughout the 80s and 90s; 1970s Kanindo rhythms are still definitive of Sungura to this day! Any critique that attempts to isolate these ‘shortcomings’ is either being unfair or is blissfully unaware of the ebb and flow of musical evolution.

Besides, the very biggest hits in the genre recently sound zilch like anything I’d have heard from the Islands. What does Freeman’s Wekwedu sound like? What is Killer T’s Ndamuda reminiscent of? An objective ear would declare that, in many ways, what is developing is a genre and a culture unto its own.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8o24ZzCCtI

2. It doesn’t hold up to Yesteryear’s Zimbabwean Music

In this lengthy Facebook post which may well be the summation of the five points listed here, prominent journalist Hopewell Chin’ono opined that, when all was said and done, Zim Dancehall is not going to have the lasting power of Mapfumo’s Tumira Vana Kuhondo from 40 years ago or Tuku’s Bvuma from 20. He argues the genre will “follow Urban Grooves into the museum.”

Chin’ono is, of course, not alone in this sentiment. Many people posit that music in general, and Zim Dancehall in particular, produces nowhere near the type of artist and song that we used to, and that there’s nothing memorable coming out of this generation that will stand the test of time. This argument is faulty for a few reasons. First of all, it falls into the generational fallacy that is commonplace in human communities: You know who else feels that “music isn’t what it used to be”? EVERYONE. I have lived in half a dozen countries and broken bread with folks from several more- I have never once heard anyone saying any type of music was getting better. Much like it is hard for a prophet to be accepted in his own land, it is tough for your longevity to be recognized in the present moment. The reason for this is, as humans, we are prone to romanticizing the past.

Secondly, it is because we are seeing the best, worst and in-betweens of this genre in its moment. We get to listen to all the medleys and recognize that, of the 20 songs we just listened to, perhaps two or three are any good. Meanwhile, our memories reduce the past to its outstanding moments, thus making it look more glorious. So yes, we remember Tuku and Mapfumo, Dembo and Andy Brown etc- but we are blissfully forgetting the dozens of their peers who have been relegated to the archives of Gallo records and ZBC. For all its praise as the vanguard genre of 1990s and 2000s Zim music, many people would be hard-pressed to name five distinct and undeniable legends of Sungura from that generation, and yet it was everywhere.

Arguments have been made that works of music only enter that “classic” debate after at least ten years. The genre (again, arguably) has been in full swing for about ten years. There is no way of making that call for certain, but indeed, I do believe songs like “Takangodaro”, “Pamamonya Ipapo”, “Zvakaipa Dai Ndarega” and “Mhai” will be sing-along anthems and cultural reference points for decades for years to come. (SN, even the maligned Urban Grooves genre produced classics that live on outside the museum. You mean to tell me Roy & Royce’s “Handirege” can’t hang anymore? Or Mafrik’s “Ndichakuudza Chete”? or Alexio’s “Shaina”? come on y’all.)

3. It is Lyrically Crass & Shallow

Closely tied to #2, the genre has come under fire for its unsophisticated and, at times, just vulgar lyrics. Far be it from me to pretend that this is not a thing- of course it is: there are indeed several artists who have pushed the generational liberties to the boundaries, to much levity at best and downright embarrassment at worst. (I still do think there’s space for this, but put a pin in that for later*)

Much like the criticisms, the defense thereof is also related to #2. Because we are living the Zim Dancehall moment right now, we get to live through all the mud and the gems- and the mud is never pleasant. In due time, however, our memories will bring us back to the gems.

And boy, are there some lyrical gems. At their finest, the penmanship is every bit as fine as that of the yesteryear lyricists we consider untouched. Let’s play a game: call it “Bar for Bar: Classic vs Dancehall” and the rules are simple; read the two lyrical sequences below and try to figure which song is the classic and which one is from the much-maligned Zim Dancehall genre. If you already know either or both song, then I just challenge you to be honest about the lyrical disparities or lack thereof. Let’s go

Song (A) “ Uchazoona kukosha kwechikorobho warasa mvura, hauteerere kana ndichikutsiura mukana inguva uyu unopfuura, uchazoona kukosha kwezvandaireva” Song (B) “Baba rairai vana venyu vachiri vadiki nekuti vanozokura vasingazivi nhamo dzeupenyu Garai navo pasi, muchivaraira nekuti vanozokura vasingazivi nhamo dzeupenyu!”

Which one is the song from the ‘lyrically deficient’ genre and which one represents the golden age of Shona lyricism? (answers at the end of the article)

Fun, right? Let’s try one more.

Song (A) “Ndakati ndichifamba zvikanzi Eddie afira musango! Yangu itsaona, varume iyi itsaona, zvinorwadza, kufirwa nababa, zvinorwadza, kufirwa namhama”

Song (B) “Moyo wangu unosimina ruvengo nehutsinye ishe, haridoke ndisina kuchiva handizvigone pakaitwa chakanaka nemumwe mukati memoyo zvinondorwadza sei? muromo wangu unongotaura zvesezvese sei?” (answers also at the bottom)

You got it? The large point here is not to suggest that one set of lyrics is superior to another ergo the genre is better; but rather to show that, in many ways, Zim Dancehall represents a continuation of a rich culture of lyricism in the country.

4. It Has Not Evolved

“ZimDancehall has not evolved and kept sounding the same since inception, with the same rhythmic progression, vocal arrangement and at times the message revolving around the same things.”- Plot Mhako

A surprisingly aloof sentiment from, in my opinion, the most important voice in urban Zimbabwean arts. Again, this is not unique.

But, no. Of course ZimDancehall evolved.Of course. You listen to early Winky D singing “Rokesheni”, “John Cena” and “Hapwa Dzinonhuwa” and then you listen to “25”, “Dzemudanga” or “Bho Yangu” and can’t sense lyrical and sonic evolution? How about Killer T’s “Takarova Ganaz” and get the same vibes you do on “Ndamuda”? When you listen to Jah Signal or Blot, are they reminiscent of King Labash and other early stars of the game?

Of course, the genre has stayed true to many of its defining tenets; it is, after all, what defines a genre. But more remarkable has been its evolution in all of ten years in the limelight: so much so that a lot of the hits are only recognizable as Zim Dancehall because of the artist singing it, and not because it bears significant sonic resemblance to its generic counterparts.

To paraphrase the HKD boss, “miromo yenyu inongotaura zvese zvese sei?”

5. It Lacks International Marketability

This may well be the most valid criticism leveled against the genre as yet; simply because it is backed by objective evidence. No Zim Dancehall artist can claim to have achieved any level of international success (and no, moderate popularity in the Zim Diaspora doesn’t count :/ ). There are pockets of hope here and there: Winky D’s collab with Beanie Man among others. But, for the most part, the culture is still to produce its first major regional or international star.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnTZigWGhZM

But let’s be fair; the country as a whole has struggled to produce international stars. Short of Tuku, Mukanya, Mbuya Stella and a few others, we have very few debatable regionally or international recognizable names. That is not for a shortage of talent or creativity, but points to a deficient music industry in need of reform.

Thus, let this last point be less of a defense of the genre and more of a call to action. How can we harness this limitless talent, charisma, and apt social commentary into profits, notoriety beyond our borders, and national ambassadorship? Much like Sway, I don’t have those answers; but I’d venture that it starts artists, the media, the government, and society conspiring to create an environment in which this could happen.

Oh, For the Record

Lest my defensive arguments here suggest that I think Zim Dancehall is “not that bad” or only “as good as”, I’ll go a step further: the genre offers something indispensable to Zimbabwean society. Nobody has confronted Zim politics with the irreverent bluntness of Platinum Price, nobody has captured the youthful haplessness of the stolen years like Winky’s 25, and nobody has reacted quicker and more succinctly to the cataclysmic socio-political state of our nation that Souljah Love #chibabababa. if Zim Dancehall is the music of the Ghetto Youths, and the largest demographic in Zimbabwe is lower income folk aged under 35, then there is a real case to be made for Zim Dancehall being the music, nay, the language of Zim. There is a reason why it has found resonance in church and politics; a reason why artists from the legendary to gospel are eager for a collabo in ways we haven’t previously seen.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5l15v-87cdQ

Mangoma don’t only deserve to be defended; they deserve to be applauded.

(Lyrics Trivia 1: song a) is Kukosha kwechikorobho by Killer T and b) Rairai Vana by John Chibadura. 2: song a) is Tsaona by Pengaudzoke and b) Zvakaipa Dai Ndarega by Freeman.)

Join the ZimDancehall Community this weekend for conversations on these and other issues!