By Sbu Ngubane
David Simelane came from the old school of music. He was also one of the few survivors of the brutal axing of the so-called bubblegum genre; our pop music from the 80s. In this exclusive interview with Sbu Ngubane he laid his soul bare about how it feels like to be in the music industry for nearly three decades yet remain virtually unknown because your record company is not doing enough to promote your music...
Hi Bab'uSimelane, how do you do?
Ngivukile wena wekunene, unjani wena?
I am fine. You have recorded more than 40 albums yet few people recognize you on the street. Why?
I blame my record company for all my promotional woes Sbu. One look at my gold and platinum discs tells you that I have been in this industry for more than 25 years now, yet nobody knows that the late Shangaan disco king Peter Teanet was my protege, nor the fact that I have produced platinum selling albums and worked with the best music icons in the country. It sucks, you know.
You remain apparently an unsung hero, which is sad. How did you become a musician?
It’s a long story but I will cut it short. At the age of 14 I left Swaziland where I was working in the military as a soldier, crossed the border to South Africa and found myself in Alberton. This is where I did piece jobs and saved enough money to enrol at a driving school. I came out a code 14 driver and got a job with a timber company in Alrode. It was during this time that I discovered a musician in me. Then one day while visiting a friend in Johannesburg I bumped into my favourite star uPaul Ndlovu and asked for an autograph. That autograph led to a friendship and the next thing I knew Paul introduced me to his producer Lefty Lekota whom I told about my dream of recording an album one day.
Then what happened next?
Lefty said I should start from the bottom and work my way up. So he started me as a band driver. For the next five years I drove them to festivals, meanwhile observing and learning every trick in the trade, from playing instruments to dancing. On the fifth year I asked Lefty for a chance at recording, assuring him that I was ready to cut an album. Confident in my potential; he used his own money to book me a studio. A few months later I came out with a debut album called Tihomo Tauteka, which means cows for a bride price.
How did Tihomo Tauteka fair in the market?
Not too well, which was expected because I was still a new fish in the industry facing stiff competition in the Tsonga music from well known artists such as Paul Ndlovu and Thomas Chauke.
So when did you feel that now I’ve turned the corner, so to speak?
It was with my second album Mob Force 1 which took every one; including myself by surprise by selling over 25 000 copies within a month of its release, earning me my first gold disc. However, it was Mob Force 2 that gave me the real break by selling over 50 000 copies.
Was it not difficult for you to sing in Tsonga as a Swati?
Not at all because my late mother was Shangaan. So I was already fluent in Tsonga language long before I met Paul and Lefty.
From your stable lately the most popular production so far is the Zamalek series. Tell us about your involvement in this project by the Mob Club Masters.
As I have told you that I have groomed real dogs of music; that includes Emmanuel Diale, otherwise known as uNyuks, a young producer with a sound musical vision with whom I started the Zamalek project. I’m a proud founding member of the Mob Club Masters, of which I appointed Ernest Shelembe, also known as Chalk as its lead vocalist. I have also featured as a vocalist in various volumes of the Zamalek series, although my main contribution has been in the production side of it.
What does Zamalek mean?
Zamalek is a nickname of South Africa's strongest beer; the Carling Black Label. Real liquor consumers will tell you that Carling is not for the uninitiated, as such should not be drank on empty stomachs or else it will knock you out. For that reason, we pay due tribute to this beer in a comical way, so to speak.
Which Zamelek series has outsold others?
The album became very popular when it first came out in the early 90's, with volume 1 selling in the excess of 75 000 units. After that we made a sequel, Zamalek 2, which sold over 120 000 units, prompting the production of subsequent sequels with more or less similar success. Now it has reached volume 10, called Ten Ten, which, like its predecessors is also doing wonders in the market.
You seem to have achieved something though; at least you’ve a big house and a tavern to show for it. What financial management advice would you give up and coming artists out there?
First thing they must know is that this industry is full of vultures that can be as cruel as a devil. This is an industry crawling with so many opportunists and vicious scoundrels ready to reap what they never sowed. We old artists got ripped off because lack of education robbed us of necessary skills to outwit these foxes. However, today's artists are better educated, are privileged to hire independent promoters and managers at their own free will. We did not have these resources at our disposal. Today there are companies like SAMRO and SARRAL whose job is to look after various interests of artists. We did not have these structures in place before. Therefore they must milk these available resources for what they are worth because we old artists lacked them. One more important warning; never sign a contract in the absence of a legal expert. And to young artists, especially kwaito kids, stay away from substance abuse because they are the main reason many artists die so poor.
You come from the old school of performers, where band members played instruments live on stage. With the exception of jazz musicians these days, backtracks have replaced live instruments on stage. Any take on this?
It is simply a silly get rich quick scheme and a shameful disservice to the loyal fans to be given half gigs from Dat machines. Fans spend their hard earned cash attending these shows, only to get programmed backtrack performances. No wonder these youngsters get rich by day. Live music creates job opportunities for the unemployed and separates real artists from pretenders. In a live show one can improvise and prolong the song to satisfy the audience. If there was something like the President of the music industry and I was one; I would have banned backtracks from festivals.
Bad news that you recently lost your father. How has this affected your music career?
Losing your loved one is one thing Sbu, but for your record company to give you R500 as a token of grief is worst, if not downright cruel. I’ve served my company with loyalty for many years now and all they do is thank me this way. About my music career; I'm still deciding if music is still worth a shot after so many cruel blows my bosses have dealt me. What I have today does not even come close to reflect what I truly deserve because I know my albums have sold enough copies to buy me a chopper.
Let's hope you reconsider quitting so prematurely because surely your fans out there still love your music. Nice speaking to you Daiser, see you next time.
Bye Sbu. Please call again.
David Simelane sadly passed away in 2004 after a short illness immediately after this interview that had taken place at his residence in Thintwa Section; Thokoza.
Simelane was not only a musician; he was also a kung fu guru of note who took many youths from the street and trained them in martial arts in the township of Thokoza to keep them away from substance abuse.
Through his guidance his record company Mob Music helped launch many music artists you know today including Arthur Mafokate, Sox and Senyaka.
Ernest Shelembe aka Chalk is the artist who sings “Yahamb’inja” song as an excited taxi owner celebrating his cheeky wife’s abduction in one of Madluphuthu’s comedy series by Chicco Twala.
Chalk’s singing voice sounds exactly like the late David Masondo’s voice in the Soul Brothers. It is regrettable that the SAMAs have celebrated 25 years in existence without a single mention or a single nomination of luminaries like David Simelane in their annual awards.
Simelane may not have been your familiar face on TV and radio but go to Mpumalanga, Eastern Cape, Northern KZN, Giyani and even Zimbabwe where he had fans including Swaziland; they know and revere him better there than many of these artists you see every day on TV. He died while trying to revive Princess Mthembu’s music career. The man was blessed with so much sense of humour you’d prepare for an hour’s interview with him and end up spending a whole three hours with him.
Besides all the challenges he was facing his face was always beaming with smile when you met him. He reminded me of such less known and celebrated yet powerful luminaries like one US Hip-Hop legend and founder Rakim, KRS 1 and the D.O.C. In a magazine interview in 1998 Ice T summed up Simelane’s predicament in one sentence when he said: “Henry Ford built the first car but do you think Mercedes Benz gives a f*ck…”