Online Reporter
Daimon Phiri
They said the music died in 2021, but on 3 September 2026, Chase Skuza turned 65, and from his home village of Ntoli under Chief Manguba in Bulilima, the voice that taught Zimbabwe to love, cry and respect returned with a brand new album, his 37th.
For a man who has spent more than four decades on stage, the milestone is not just about age; it is about endurance, consistency and the quiet dignity with which he has carried the name of Matabeleland South to every corner of the country and beyond.
While many of his contemporaries have faded or chosen silence, Chase has remained present, not through noise or controversy, but through music that speaks directly to the heart of ordinary people.
Born Nicholus Sikhuza in Ntoli Village, Bulilima District, Chase came from music royalty as one of three musical brothers who helped shape the sound of a generation.
Alongside him was the late Solomon Skuza, the war veteran and sungura legend whose songs Banolila and Love and Scandals became national anthems in the 1980s and still fill dance floors today.
The third was Khumbulani Skuza, founder member and lead vocalist of Tukuye Super Sounds, the group that gave us timeless hits like iSantana, iMenya Zami and Intethelelo.
Growing up in that household meant that music was not a career choice; it was a way of life, and from church choirs in Ntoli to community gatherings under the trees, young Chase learned early that a song could heal, correct, and bring people together.
That foundation would later carry him from village stages to national platforms and into the homes of Zimbabweans across language and cultural lines.
From church choirs in Ntoli to packed stadiums in Harare, Chase carried Bulilima on his back with a simple philosophy that he repeated often: a man without a home village is a song without a chorus.
It was this grounding that kept him humble even as fame grew, and it is the same grounding that he has passed on to the next generation.
Today the Skuza legacy continues through Lwazi Skuza and Thawulo Skuza, young men who are keeping the family sound alive on different stages, with Thawulo now based in South Africa.
Their presence proves that the Skuza name is not dying; it is multiplying, and that the values of respect, discipline and storytelling that defined the brothers are being handed down.
Chase was never an artist of one hit; he was an artist of a library. Over the years, he gave the nation a catalogue that documented the joys and struggles of ordinary people across decades.
Songs like Bathu Bakhithi spoke to community, Abalalanga reminded us of vigilance and sacrifice, Imvuselelo carried a message of spiritual renewal, Umuzi Wami with Kwejani Band became a homecoming anthem, and Sebevumelene captured the power of agreement and unity.
Each album added another chapter to what has become a diary of the nation, written in Shona, Ndebele, English, Nambya and Kalanga, and sung with the calm authority that earned him the title The Gentleman of Song.
This September, under T.K Studio, he releases album 37 titled Inhlonipho, meaning “respect,” a 10-track project that fuses reggae, traditional, tshibilika, Afro mbaqanga and gospel in a sound that only he could create.
The project was designed to speak to multiple audiences at once, to the South African and Bulilima soul that grew up on mbaqanga, to the church boy from Ntoli who started in gospel, to the elders under Chief Manguba who value tradition, and to the younger generation looking for music with a message.
A family spokesperson said, “In this time of division, we need Inhlonipho”, explaining that the album is a call for respect for elders, respect for culture, and respect for each other. Set to drop in mid-this month, the album is further proof that Chase remains a man of the people, choosing substance over trends and message over hype.
At 65, Chase still matters because in an era of noise and beats he brings silence and meaning, and in an era of insults and clout chasing he brings character and Inhlonipho.
He never fought on stage, he never disrespected a fan, and he never arrived anywhere except in a suit, ready to perform with the discipline of a man who understood that the stage was a place of service.
He sang in multiple languages not to chase markets, but because he believed music should make everyone feel included and human.
That is why taxi drivers in Bulawayo and Plumtree still play his music on long routes, and why brides in Gwanda and Beitbridge still walk down the aisle to his songs, because his art speaks to dignity, to love, and to home.
As the man celebrates 65 years, 37 albums, one village and one message, Chase Skuza reminds us from Ntoli to every home in Zimbabwe that a nation that forgets its musicians forgets its soul.
His return is not about looking back; it is about reminding us where we come from so that we know where we are going.
