Bruce Ndlovu Showbiz Correspondent
Zimbabwe, just like any other country, has had its fair share of maverick and daring musicians. From the days of Paul Matavire or Dr Love as he was popularly known, who kept listeners’ ears glued to their radios with vivid tales of sexual encounters to the rapper Maskiri, who exasperated Christians with his nonchalant attitude towards religion and society’s conventions, the country has had its fair share of controversial artistes.
While Matavire entertained a nation still vibrant with the euphoria of newly acquired independence with spoken word accounts of wild sexual escapades, Maskiri sent the generation of “born frees” wild in the new millennium with his disrespect of institutions that had previously been sacred cows. The two are heroes of different crowds for vastly different reasons and what can’t be disputed is the fact that they managed to capture the attention of the country with their larger than life personas that shone in their music and lyrics.
Recently, the country has been swarmed by the emergence of an army of musicians that are cut from a cloth that is similar to the one Matavire and Maskiri were fashioned from.
Mention the name Zim dancehall and many things come to mind. When someone hears the name of Zimbabwe’s newest addition to the family of popular genres, they think of violence. The genre seems to be drowning in a wave of violence, ranging from the explosive content in its lyrics to the clashes at shows between fans and artistes alike.
The name might make others think of the ghetto, particularly Mbare, where most of the genre’s proponents come from. This is the factory where the country’s reigning dancehall kings have been refined and delivered to the country’s stages to entertain hordes of youths eager to hear their raw and aggressive take on life.
Some might think of drugs when they hear the Zim dancehall name. The genre is a fruit off the same family tree that includes reggae and ragga, genres whose most famous stars have no issues with the consumption of the illegal drug, marijuana. Zim dancehall is all those things and more. While critics have torn apart its lyrical content, it has been embraced by youths. Zimbabwean society shuns drugs but is it fair to expect artistes from a genre synonymous with a certain drug to completely ignore it? And what is to be done with the cancer of violence that seems to be steadily eating away at the genre?
In its infancy, the genre already has so many questions to answer. What is beyond question however is that while some might hate it for its mixture of raw lyrics, senseless violence and drugs, it is loved by most youths.
Earlier in the year, Sports, Arts and Culture Minister, Andrew Langa, castigated young artistes for their choice in lyrics as he believed that songs that dominate today are giving the stamp of approval to behaviour that is alien to Zimbabwean culture.
“The lyrics that you sing as musicians should reflect who we are. Why do you want to bring a culture that was never there in Africa?
“You must instead sing what depicts our country Zimbabwe and its diverse cultures. You must stop singing meaningless lyrics,” Langa said.
This was in February, but one is left wondering if his words still echo in the minds of young artistes whenever they pick up a pen to write their latest body-shaking anthem.
Young dancehall musicians seem to have taken the phrase, sex, drugs and rock and roll to another level as the content becomes more pornographic, with each phrase in their songs loaded with vivid details of booze-fuelled sex escapades. Most, if not all of today’s most admired youth artistes, locally and internationally dish out music with sprinklings of obscenity or spiced up with retellings of sexual encounters with women. This is the lyrical content, which Minister Langa was referring to.
However, the question still remains — how much of an influence does music and the lyrics it contains have on youths? Does the explicit content change the behaviour of young people? Do young people try to live the lyrics that they hear in the songs of their favourite artistes?
Violence
In many ways Zim dancehall artistes are the country’s first crop of real rock stars. While the likes of Matavire and Maskiri have shocked and awed fans in equal measure in the past, such artistes were a drop in the ocean surrounded by conservatism. The average Zimbabwean artiste is concerned with being a role model and setting a good example for youths.
This does not seem to be the mantra that dancehall artistes are following. In a manner reminiscent of rock and roll artistes from the 80s and hip hop stars from the 90s, Zim dancehall artistes seem to live by their own rules, rules which include embracing the violent side of their characters.
On the eve of the Sting Clash which was prematurely ended by violence that saw several injured, chanter Seh Calaz did not mince his words, as he embraced the violence that his lyrics exhibit.
“I will continue to sing violence oriented songs which I am good at and if people want mature lyrics without violence then go and listen to the so-called dancehall priest Tocky Vibes,” he said.
While fans might appreciate this “realness” it is now worrying how a violence fever has spread among fans who have been nothing less than rowdy at most shows. While the beef among artistes might be entertaining for now, the animosity-filled mood in the dancehall scene is worryingly reminiscent of the East Coast/West Coast wars that led to the violent deaths of Tupac and Biggie.
Drugs
However, the artistes themselves believe that although their lyrics may seem to be goading youths down the wrong path, it is the duty of listeners to shun what they preach in their songs and instead do what they think is morally right.
In an interview earlier in the year with this paper, member of the Red Fox family of DJs MC Smallz said that although their music on the surface seemed to be advocating for the consumption of drugs, it was not something that they actively advocated for as artistes. By Smallz’s logic the lyrics in popular dancehall songs should not be taken at face value as most of what was said was for entertainment purposes and not for practice in real life.
“Although the youths hear us chanting on the mic saying youths should smoke mbanje, we say that they should stay away from drugs. That is a marketing strategy because as dancehall artistes we have to be controversial,” he said.
Simply put, the artistes expect their music to be the soundtrack to dance floors and parties and not the blueprint to how youths should live their lives. Putting on them the responsibility for the behaviour of youths would be burdening them with a cross they are not prepared to carry.
It is unclear whether music is responsible for the way young people conduct themselves. However, what is clear is the days when popular musicians of the day used to chant revolutionary and socially conscious lyrics are gone. Today’s youth have a different struggle and they march to a different rhythm, a rhythm dancehall artistes are happy to supply.



