Online Reporter
Bruce Ndlovu, Sunday Life Reporter
WHEN the song Ndakanamatira Nyaya Iyoyi exploded onto Zimbabwean playlists and social media timelines, few stopped to question whether the voice giving them such a soothing tune was human or not.
The song, a mellow tune that extols the value of prayer and its power in manifesting good tidings in one’s life, sounds authentic enough. For people walking through a dark tunnel in their lives, the song is a bright spark beckoning them to brighter days ahead. As they basked in its hopeful glow, few would have stopped to ask whether artificial intelligence had played a role in its creation.
What mattered to them was simpler. The song resonated. From kombis in Bulawayo to tuck-shops in Kadoma and bars in Gweru, the song, made by AI musician Grace Wave, became part of everyday life, joining a growing catalogue of AI-assisted or AI-generated songs that are increasingly blurring the line between human and machine-made art. So far, the song has over eight million combined views on YouTube.
Yet while audiences have embraced some of these songs with surprising ease, many Zimbabwean artists remain trapped between curiosity, ignorance and fear over the technology that is rapidly reshaping the global music industry. In a country where many artists are still struggling with issues of piracy, poor internet access and limited technological literacy, artificial intelligence has arrived as both a promise and a threat. For some, AI represents the beginning of the end for authentic artistry. For others, it is merely another tool that musicians can use to improve their craft.
In an interview with Sunday Life, rapper Asaph said one of the biggest problems was that artists had not been adequately educated about AI and its place in the creative sector.
“There hasn’t been adequate information that has been broken down for artists, especially in the City of Kings,” he said.
“There was a workshop that was done by the US Embassy on AI and the creative space. They did live-stream it on Zoom, I think. But the majority of our artists won’t have the time or the access to such platforms. So I’m actually thinking as part of the Kwela Initiative, we might need to find a way to address that to kind of fill in the gap.”
The knowledge gap, Asaph believes, has created fertile ground for misinformation and panic among artists who often encounter AI discussions through sensational social media posts rather than structured educational platforms. Yet despite the anxiety surrounding the technology, Asaph said he personally viewed AI as a tool rather than a threat to musicians.
“Most of what I’m seeing online is fear-mongering, where fans or listeners or different people are kind of like trying to scare artists about this AI thing that is coming and artists will be irrelevant.
“For me personally, I don’t fear AI. It’s just another tool. I don’t think artists should fear AI because we’re in the day and age where people will gravitate to the music they connect with,” he said.
As songs such as Ndakanamatira rise in popularity, there is fear among some artists that AI is set to replace human performers. For Asaph, human experience remains the one thing machines cannot replicate.
“I’m only competing to get those who are related to my story, understand where I’m coming from. That’s where we can beat AI because we have a story. AI doesn’t have a story.”
“People can follow artist A’s journey from when he did this and then he did that and then he got signed and then he left the label and then he got married, then he had a child. It reflects in the music. So I feel that’s why there’s no real need to fear AI,” he said.
While some artists see AI as manageable, others warn that ignoring the technology altogether could leave Zimbabwean musicians dangerously behind global trends.
Arts commentator Plot Mhako said Zimbabweans were already consuming AI-assisted music in large numbers, often without caring whether the songs had been created by humans or machines.
“I’ve been following the developments around AI and consumption and everything, the patterns for a while on YouTube and in public spaces,” he said.
“What I think is happening is that there’s a big gap. And the gap is that people want good music. People want music that resonates with them, that just uplifts them.”
According to Mhako, the success of songs such as Ndakanamatira and Kure Kure shows that emotional connection remains central to music consumption, regardless of how the songs are made. Rather than resisting the technology, Mhako believes artists should embrace AI as a complementary creative tool.
“If you look at songs like Ndakanamatira, even Kure Kure, these are very emotional songs that are very relatable to people. They obviously have AI voices, except maybe Ndakanamatira, but there is something that people are getting from that.
“Artists need to explore and producers need to explore. They can actually utilise AI to improve, just like possibly what we do as journalists. We write our stories, but we use AI to correct grammar. It can be very small parts, but that will enhance one’s creations,” he said.
“Even if it means composing and coming up with a melody and stuff, AI will just help somebody.”
However, he warned that refusing to engage with AI could eventually push human artists out of important listening spaces.
“If they don’t adjust, I foresee a situation where AI is going to occupy the space uninterrupted,” he said.
“In terms of live performances, yes, humans will still be there. But in terms of playlists, what people have on their phones, in their homes, in their cars, in buses and public spaces, it will be AI food.”
Mhako said he had already witnessed the widespread acceptance of AI-assisted songs in several Zimbabwean towns.
“I saw that in Gweru, in Kadoma and in Bulawayo. People are playing these songs and they don’t care whether machines make these songs or not,” he said.
For him, the solution lies not in rejecting technology, but in creating dialogue between artists and emerging digital tools.
“There has to be a conversation between the creators and this technology to a point where they find each other. Even the beat makers have to find ways that they can utilise it. Otherwise, the technology overtakes them. But if it’s complementary, people still see the artist that they love, and the artist will be using the best technology that is available, which is AI-inspired.”
Not everyone in the industry is comfortable with the growing influence of AI.
For many artists, AI remains a distant and poorly understood concept discussed mainly on social media and YouTube videos rather than in recording studios and rehearsal spaces.
Yet as AI-generated and AI-assisted songs continue to dominate playlists and spark conversation, Zimbabwe’s music industry may soon be forced to confront a difficult question: whether to resist the technology or learn how to coexist with it.
And perhaps the biggest irony of all is that while artists continue debating the ethics and dangers of artificial intelligence, ordinary listeners appear to have already made their choice.
If the song sounds good, many simply press play
Veteran music producer and guitarist Clive “Mono” Mukundu expressed concern that the technology was lowering the barrier to entry in ways that could dilute genuine artistry.
“We now have people who have never composed anything calling themselves composers because they can prompt AI,” he said.
“Music comes from the soul. AI should remain a collaborative tool, not a replacement for human creativity.”
Mukundu’s concerns mirror fears being raised globally, as musicians and producers worry about issues ranging from copyright infringement to the possible disappearance of human originality.
Even in the United States, where technological adoption is far ahead of Zimbabwe’s, the music industry is still wrestling with how AI should be regulated and integrated into creative work.
In a statement during a recent discussion on AI and the creative industries, the United States Embassy acknowledged that there were no easy answers.
“Artists and music industry professionals in America are also grappling with these realities and a conversation like this can offer fresh perspectives to everyone involved,” the embassy said.
