By Shingi Mavima
The "Lockdown Class" are coming of age nicely, aren't they? I refer here to the cohort of artists who either emerged, or had been bubbling under the surface but reached new levels of prominence, during the COVID-ravaged season that was 2020 to 2021: the likes of Nyasha David, Holy Ten (and, subsequently, SaintFloew, Voltz JT etc), Feli Nandi, Nutty O (who admittedly had the biggest buzz pre-COVID, but hit new levels, first with the single "Safe" and, in 2021, the album Mustard Seed) and, indeed, Kae Chaps.
Oh, Kae Chaps. I remember, as I am disposed to believe that many here do, the first time I heard "Juzi." It was on a clip that Noble Stylez shared, perhaps ominously, a couple days before Valentine's Day (2021.) It was a poignant listen. The juxtapositioning of the mellow verses rising to a crescendo, culminating in the simultaneously juvenile yet gut-wrenching chorus is haunting.
To be clear, because of how universal the experience is; heartbreak anthems are a dime a dozen across the genres anywhere, Zim RnB not being an exception. From Plaxedes' "Wadarireiko" through to Qounfuzed and Ti Gonzi's "Handichakufunga", there has been a plethora of tunes meant to pull at the heartstrings by way of Umjolo's wiles.
Yet, in centering this particular lament on a jersey/sweater in a genre in which conversation almost always and unwaveringly focuses on the object of one's affection ("why did you leave me?" "Im lost without you" type), Kae Chaps was subverting expectations; fundamentally disrupting the way in which the story has been told thus far*.
Speaking of fundamental disruption; allow me to introduce you to Quentin Tarantino. Now to be clear, unlike the other failed rapper that writes for this platform, I am far from a cinephile. I do, however, recognize Quentin Tarantino as one of the finest and most influential filmmakers of the past four decades.
He is also one that I am partial to, with two of his works being among my five favorite films of all time, and a further two possibly in the top ten. Some of his renowned tropes including nonlinear storytelling (a la Pulp Fiction; Reservoir Dogs), historical revisionism ( Django Unchained, Inglorious Basterds), feet - for some reason, and oddly specific conversations surrounding seemingly mundane objects and activities through which we are supposed to gain grander insight into the psyche of an individual or group.
Like the briefcase in Pulp Fiction. Or tipping in Reservoir Dogs. Or, you know, the juzi in "juzi."
A Masterpiece in Three Acts
It is within this spirit of narrative disruption that Kae Chaps' Tarantino project begins. By now branded the Heartbreak King (or, at the very least, an RnB loverboy with pop sensibilities), it comes as somewhat of a subversion when the album opens with a two-verse solo rap joint, "Ndaikuda." The song, couched as a letter to an erstwhile lover, details the doldrums Chaps found himself in December 2020- literally two months before his big break: he describes being ready to die in the hopelessness of urban Zim living, his girl wanting to leave him (and him almost understanding, since he had little to give), the path towards drunkenness, growing to be a man without his father and, in the second verse, explaining that, for all his success, the haters, envy and other insecurities emerge to give new reasons to drink- and we are back at it. It is, dare I say, Tarantino-esque.
Not only do we get the plot device (letter to an ex) that is hardly the thing we are actually paying attention to here; but that intro pretty much spells out the rest of the album; Tough times brought him to "hasha nelife", and feeling like "Mai vevana"- the one he says "ndodona naye" and about to "murder mudhara, now might take "everything" from him, he decides to go for his "zvisina loud", and while he makes it, he now has to be wary of those around him in "Cherechedza hama", and loss remains a constant; as we see in the emotional closing track, "Mazuva Akadai."
Much like in Reservoir Dogs, it almost feels like the director has rolled the credits at the beginning of the film. (SN, if like me you were confused when Kae Chaps threw a shot at R Peels in "Hulumende" (I still am), or when he declared that rappers would be on the menu on the "Gore Remix", it was interesting to hear him spit for real. The crooner can...actually rap. Not sure if there's enough to step into the ring with Pharaoh or someone of that ilk, but he did his thing!)
It is at this point that the album begins the first of its three cinematic acts. Track 2-5, I would opine, constitute the establishing shots. This is Kae Chaps as we know him; the guy who gave us "Juzi" "Huchapa" and "Zvirikurwadza." In "Mai Vevana" for example, we have the typical heartbreak song, and "Zvisina Loud" is an anthem of resilience. Tracks 2 and 3, 'Shamwari' and Dhorobha' respectively, represent the project's peak display of lyricism.
Think of how often we bemoan the tribulations of Umjolo and the pain of losing people; but how often do we hear it delivered as succinctly as to say "God makes people, brings people to us, and when they leave; that's also God-stamped; people don't belong to us..." or, on "Dhorobha", when he describes his disappointment in how a loved had lost their way, he sings "I was afraid that the city would change you. I guess the city won." Come on man.
To be clear, when I used the word "typical" earlier in the paragraph, the intention is not to downplay the song(s) as ordinary- not at all: rather, that they are thematically and sonically what one may expect from Kae Chaps- brilliance included.
Tracks 6-9, may I posit, represent the second act of the movie. This is the part where the explosions and fight scenes kick in, our main protagonist starts to move in odd ways, new characters are introduced etc; you know how Hollywood does. On this album, this 4-track run represents the most sonically adventurous part of the project.
First, all three of the album's feature appear in this run, all three juggernauts of the scene right now; two of the Lockdown Class's leading lights, Holy Ten and Nutty O and, though more seasoned, the perennially captivating Killer T.
On "Chigumbu" with Nutty O, Chaps evokes not one, not two, but three beloved songs from across the genres: Kevin Lyttle's Dancehall anthem 'Tempted to Touch', Kulligun and Kalabash's mid 2000s urban grooves/zimdancehall chant "Ndanga Ndakadhakwa", and the Four Brothers' 1988 classic "Hukama" (made famous in the 1990s as the theme song of the local drama "Pfuma Yenhaka") and it works. "Cherechedza Hukama" features the Killer T Stimulus package and, in sound and theme, adds to the storied tradition of Chairman hopping on a danceable genre-bending track about friendships and loyalty (see also: Hondo, Nhema, Pahukama) and making it work. On this and the next track "Ndodonha Naye," it is very clear that Kae Chaps is having fun.
Remember when, during their 'beef, Kae Chaps said "Kae Chaps, catch up, une face yeSungura?" While that was a funny jab (as a neutral), it seems like Chaps leaned in on "Ndodonha Naye", cranking up his Museve sensibilities; cranking his voice in a way that is distinctively reminiscent of System Tazvida, right down to such zany lines like "ndingatosunga mapurisa, nyangwe ariye anemhosva" and a growth point video to boot.
Track 9, "Murder Mudhara" is the lead single and features Holy Ten who, as polarizing as his recent public profile has been, is still nailed-on for a hit feature - especially when he is not taking himself too seriously. Indeed, the second act of the album is the vibes part of the album: it is where the hit songs reside. (While I suspected that already, that the two videos thus far have come from this part of the album, and that the four songs are four of the five most streamed joints on Spotify (straight five out of five if we start with #5, "Zvisina Loud") reiterates that point.)
After the euphoria of that run, things calm down a little as we venture into the emotional epicenter of the project: the third and final act. In many ways the final few songs reiterate the sentiments of the first act, but the stakes are much higher now. Whereas the grind was earlier couched as "go and get your money zvisina loud", we are back now grinding with "hasha nelife."
The losses from "Ndaikuda" are now "you took everything from me." And that's before we get to the final two songs; good Lord. You know when you've been hanging out with someone, and they're being fun, funny, maybe a bit inappropriate here and there (I mean, what does "Ridza mukomana kunge bhosvo" mean, really? haha,) then all of a sudden, just before you part, they get especially sombre? "Paucha Nyengetera" and "Mazuva Akadai" definitely feel that way. It goes from "life can be difficult, but we cooking..." to "If you don't hold me, I'm jumping" energy. And it's beautifully articulated.
When we reached out to the crooner, Kae Chaps explained the album's title and direction thus:
"I personally felt like there was a lot going on in my life that it felt like a movie and I needed to direct that movie , (tell that story), in the best way possible which is the Tarantino way. Also in simple terms and ghetto lingo it means ‘Ndino shooter mafirimu".
I don't know Kae Chaps personally. But, if you're in these spaces, there are, at most, three degrees of separation between all of us here. I say that to say, I remember in April, I was trying to get an article pushed through on this platform, and our editor- well acquainted with the singer- explained that Kae Chaps' grandma had passed, and all hands were on deck there.
Editorial: We stand with you Mr Chapepa ❤️🙏
It took me back to the Gore Remix, when he sang "kune vakanoroora makorokoto, ini ndozama by next year, musatsamwe gogo..." Clearly, she meant the world to him; and the final song "Mazuva Akadai" is a gut-wrenchingly beautiful immortalization of her. From one Gogo's kid to another, I pray for your continued healing, Kuda.
As I conclude, I want to draw your attention to something about the album that may perhaps even out-Tarantino Tarantino himself. I want you to imagine the album backwards; where Mazuva Akadai is the first song, and "Ndaikuda" is the finale; and the acts are the same as I broke them down earlier. It becomes the story of a young man who has just lost quite possibly the most important person in his life, and goes off with her blessing; telling people to keep him in their prayers (Paucha Nyengetera.)
Everything becomes Mai veVana, Hasha NeLife becomes Zvisina Loud, as he navigates life until he gets to take stock on all that has happened in "Ndaikuda", before setting the intention to keep going again. It works surprisingly well as a story in that order as well; a savant trope among avant garde filmmakers and storytellers.
Like Quentin Tarantino.
Like Kae Chaps.
*(This statement is made in full recognition that Sungura and other more traditional genres have been doing this since time immemorial.)
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