marble nkomo
Stanford Chiwanga, [email protected]
THERE’S a particular kind of murmur that rolls through Bulawayo when something special is about to happen. It starts softly — in WhatsApp groups, in hair salons, over braai smoke and late-night playlists — then gathers itself into a lively chorus.
Over the past few weeks, that murmur has become a certainty: Pub Choir ZW is back. And not back with business as usual, but back with intent, with heart, and with something a little daring tonight at Bulawayo Athletic Club (BAC).
The last time the city and Pub Choir met was December 2024 — a fragrant summer evening, all warm harmonies and grins wide enough to catch the moonlight. Afterwards came a long pause. Not a sulk, not a disappearance, but the sort of quiet that artistes use to hear themselves again. As Simbai “Zey” Nicholas tells it, the silence was a decision, not an accident.
“After December 2024, we made a conscious decision to slow down and recalibrate. Pub Choir is not just about putting on shows — it’s about delivering an experience that feels intentional, elevated, and emotionally charged. We took time to refine the brand, grow our production standards, and expand into other cities before returning to
Bulawayo with something that truly feels like a step forward, not just a repeat.”
You can sense the graft in the way he talks about the break — not with defensiveness, but with the pride of someone who knows the backroom work is where the magic gets its roots.
“It was largely strategic. Behind the scenes, we were strengthening partnerships, reworking the show format, and developing new concepts like Soul Avenue under the Pub Choir brand. There’s a lot of invisible work — venue negotiations, production upgrades, audience research, and brand positioning. We wanted to come back stronger, not just sooner.”
Bulawayo, meanwhile, kept the flame. This city has a way of remembering the good things and tugging them back home when the time is right. Nicholas makes it clear that the love is mutual.
“Discontinuing Bulawayo was never the plan. If anything, the question was always when, not if. Bulawayo has one of the most passionate and expressive audiences we’ve ever performed for. The return was always on the roadmap — it just had to happen at the right time, with the right concept.”
And if you listen closely this week, you will hear that right time shuffle — shoes being dusted off, outfits debated, playlists tuned to the 90s.
“The energy has shifted. The demand has grown. And Soul Avenue has evolved into a powerful experience that fits Bulawayo perfectly. The timing felt aligned — the city is ready, and so are we.”
Ready, too, because Bulawayo never stopped asking.
“Honestly, it was the consistent messages. The comments. The DMs. The ‘Mzala, when are you coming back?’ energy never stopped. There wasn’t one dramatic moment — it was the steady reminder that Bulawayo still wanted us.”
That steady reminder has become a promise: tonight at BAC, Soul Avenue will take the reins. It’s Pub Choir, yes — but with the format flipped on its head and the spotlight shared with memory itself.
“This isn’t just a return — it’s an evolution. Soul Avenue is different from the traditional live Pub Choir format. This is a curated, DJ-driven nostalgia experience built around collective sing-along energy, not a live choir-led performance.
We will definitely be bringing the full live Pub Choir production back later in the year — but Soul Avenue is about intimacy, vibe, memory, and emotional connection. It’s less about watching a performance . . . and more about becoming the performance.”
If that sounds like a beginning rather than a one night fling, that’s by design.
“That’s definitely the intention. We don’t want Bulawayo to feel like a once-a-year stop. The goal is consistency — but consistency built on quality, not quantity. If the city continues to show up the way we know it can, you’ll be seeing a lot more of us.”
And there will be gifts tucked into the set — winks to the faithful and jolts for the newcomers.
“Let’s just say this: we’re bringing a few moments that weren’t part of the 2024 show. There will be interactive segments that pull the audience even closer into the experience, a few musical twists, and possibly one or two nostalgic curveballs that will catch people off guard — in the best way.”
Then there’s the delicious mischief at the heart of the night: no lyric safety net. It’s a dare dressed as a love letter to everything we think we’ve forgotten — and everything our bones insist we still remember.
“And here’s the real twist: unlike traditional Pub Choir shows where we generously display the lyrics on screen, Soul Avenue is not that forgiving. This time, you’re going to have to trust your memory. If you claim you know your 90s classics, this is your moment to prove it. No subtitles. No safety net. Just you, the music, and the chorus.”
All of it wraps around a theme that feels like a sigh and a smile at once — “Love Like The 90s.” Think mixtapes, ink stained fingers, slow dances that lingered long after the last note.
“The theme is ‘Love Like The 90s.’ We chose it because the 90s gave us a different kind of love — vulnerable, dramatic, handwritten-letter love. The music was expressive. The lyrics meant something. You didn’t just hear the song — you felt it. Soul Avenue: Love Like The 90s is about bringing that energy back — slowing down, singing from the chest, locking eyes with someone when the chorus hits. It’s nostalgia, but it’s also connection. And in a fast world, people are craving that.”
So, come tonight, BAC won’t just be a venue. It will be a time machine, a confessional, a dance floor built from memory. Bring your voice, your friends, and that one chorus you swear you’ll never forget. Bulawayo asked. Pub Choir listened. Now the city gets to sing the answer.
Online Reporter