Outside, the evening was distinctly chilly but, inside Kings Place, the audience was immediately thawed by the warmth embrace of South African sounds and winning smile of pianist and educator Nduduzo Makhathini, magnificently accompanied by bassist Zwelakhe Bell le Pere and drummer Lukmil Perez who exhibited remarkable affinity and almost telepathic communication.
The recital’s programme followed irregular and unexpected patterns. Unfamiliar songs melded into one another unannounced, sometimes slow and bluesy, sometimes hypnotic and mantra-like, occasionally with bursts of humour. Repeated chordal patterns varied from simple, sparse and lyrical to dense and complex, always absorbing. Often, Makhathini, close to the mike, chanted long segments in Zulu studded with an impressive array of clicks. We also heard catchy riffs handled like a basketball, passed from piano to bass to drums with consummate skill. There were lilting melodies of poignant beauty, angular themes percussively attacked and angry roiling pieces with weighty rhapsodic chords full of darkness and thunder. The roots of anger became understandable when, midway during the recital, Makhathini addressed the audience and mentioned the exiles from the old South Africa. “Sound”, he declaimed, “is a kind of protest lament”.
Listening intently to Makhathini’s work at the piano and his behind-the-beat phrasing, attentive listeners might have detected a broad alliance of jazz influences: South African pianists Bheki Mseleku, Moses Molelekwa and Abdullah Ibrahim and Americans John Coltrane, Randy Weston, Thelonious Monk and even a fleeting glimpse of Dave Brubeck, especially during the more percussive moments and some unusual time signatures.
But, throughout, his work is laced with the rich heritage of Zulu music (older readers may recall that Paul Simon busted South African sanctions to record with Zulu superstars Ladysmith Black Mambazo). It could be heard in the trills, treble fill-ins and even his intimate microphone murmurs.
The highlight for your reviewer (and, judging by the enthusiastic applause, the entire audience) was Makhathini’s heartfelt homage to Abdullah Ibrahim, exquisitely played with the all the reverence due to the maestro.
For once, the standing ovation was appropriate and well-deserved
