Let them declare, as they do each time a contemporary name is mentioned among the greats, that this is impossible; that legendary status within the Zimbabwean music space is only attainable by those who broke out in the 20th century – as if younger millennials and Gen Z do not deserve to witness greatness in their time.
Let them come forth and poke holes in the Mukudzei story; let them lecture us, those who have recognized the icon in whose time we are honored to live that he is, about how we are wrong and may as well be perpetual COVID patients the way we lack taste.
Once sentimentality, nostalgia, and general condescension towards those whose tastes differ from yours is done, however, we will have to look at the more objective (as objective as anything ever is in the artsy world), and decipher what it is that JP still has to prove. A burgeoning catalog that, at this point, rivals those of many who are accepted into realm of the GOATS with nary a question; visuals that make us forget of a time when Zim videos overwhelmingly sucked; hit songs upon hit songs, a longevity that already puts many to shame (and he is far from done), collaborations with the finest of his peers locally, regionally, and even internationally; and numbers to boot.
I apologize. Clearly, I am an apologist – pun not intended – and I got carried away.
I’m not here to build a prosaic shrine to Jah Prayzah; I am here to talk about a show I attended recently.
Now full disclosure, having been in the diaspora since pretty much when I left home for college some two decades ago now (damn!), my entire adult concert-going experiences have virtually been away from home, having caught Tuku and (eventually) Mokoomba concerts in the United States of America (and, to be fair, the likes of Tocky Vibes, King Isaac, Julian King and Sandra Ndebele at ZimExpo; but you know how expo shows can be), Freeman and Jay Prayzah in Pretoria, and now, Jah Prayzah again, this time in Toronto.(Don’t get me wrong; I still attend shows when I’m back in Zimbabwe; but I usually do the small, often-in-the-ghetto shows – last time I was there I caught Assagai Crew paBoka in Dangamvura. Type stuff.)
When the #NdiniMukudzei tour was announced, many in the Zim community out here (US) were enthralled. There are those who love JP, those who just yearn for a taste of the teapot-shaped nation, and still, some who were just happy that the US stops (DC and Dallas) fell on the July 4 weekend (US Independence Day), and so they could make a weekend out of it all.
Unfortunately, those hopes were trumped, and those two shows got cancelled. Doubly unfortunate, as the cancellations were so last minute that many who had booked flights and hotels were unable to get refunds (particularly costly, what with it being a holiday weekend and all). Resourceful and resigned in the way that Zimbos have learnt to be, many folks just traveled to those places anyway; and just made a Jah Prayzah-less weekend out of it.
As fate would have it, those among us with poorer planning skills and a general phobia of commitment were in luck: there were two more North American shows; only in Canada and on the following weekend. In fact, living in Michigan, the trip across the border into Toronto (if you can make it) is significantly shorter than going to DC or Dallas (think going to Beira from Mutare as opposed to, say, Mutare to Vic Falls in the case of Dallas), so that was just as well—though we carried the disappointment of our now-severely compromised squad with us.
You didn’t come here to read some guy journaling about his trip. You came to hear about the show.
Billed to start at 5pm, there weren’t any opening acts – save for the DJ who did a decent job of keeping the crowd vibing. An outdoor summer concert, there was a festival feel to the goings-on; a few vendors slanging product etc. Right at 8pm, the Tall one and his friends took to the stage; which was good to see. (When I attended his Pretoria show, for example, it was marketed as starting at 3pm, but he did not get on stage until 11pm. I recognize that is likely the venue trying to maximize on food sales and such throughout the evening and no fault of the artist!)
At this moment, I must confess that I was feeling…nice. Libations had been flowing all evening; and that was on purpose. I had told my travelling party that I hope to witness the show from the vantage point of the most comfortably inebriated (yet still coherent) attendant at the show and we would see what that review looked like. They thought it was a fun, if unorthodox, idea, so they kept them flowing.
Source: ZimSphere
Source: ZimSphere
