It’s bigger than the greater Harare area.
Or at least it has to be.
That the mainstream hip-hop scene in Zimbabwe tends to be Harare-centric is hardly a controversial statement. Thought exercise: off the top of your head, name the ten most buzzing rappers of the past, say five years. Ten even. Unless you were being intentionally evasive, or just particularly tuned in to a specific scene, I am willing to bet that anywhere between 6-9 (nice) folks on your list were from the capital or the vicinity.
To be fair, the idea of urban youth culture flowing disproportionately from the most cosmopolitan city is par for the course. Hip-hop is birthed in New York City, and even when it left the East Coast, it found resonance in Los Angeles and, later spaces like Chicago, Atlanta, and Miami - also cosmopolitan. Johannesburg is so dominant that the likes of Cassper and AKA, from distant provinces, are essentially Joburg-made. To be fair, in Zim the raps tend to have done better than the riddims in decentering: From the days of NME, P.O.Y and Nasty Trix to the likes of Asaph, Awa Khiwe, Calvin, and Noble Stylz, there’s always been a healthy dosage of non-Harare artists in the limelight; whereas you’d have to reach down to the Boom Betos to find noteworthy non-Harare showings in ‘recent’ Zimdancehall lore. (And to be clear, we are talking here about the “mainstream”: radio and TV play, media coverage, numbers on YouTube etc. I know for a fact that there are entire robust scenes across the country where MCs can go toe-to-toe with the best in the land and beyond.)
If, indeed, it is bigger than just Harare, then we have to talk about Flexxo Mushawarukwa.
I first came across Flexxo’s work back in 2014, when a video of him freestyling in this Gazebo went viral. It was…fascinating.
For full context, let’s quickly remind ourselves of the state of raps and riddims at the time. In addition to the Harare-hegemony stated earlier, ZimDancehall was probably at its peak (or coming into it) as the definitive voice of the ghetto; and hip-hop, with the likes of Tehn Diamond and MMT as standout acts at the time, was definitely in an uptown pocket in ways that have since been disrupted.
Yet here was this guy, rapping a punchline heavy freestyle in a distinctive Manyika accent to an enthusiastic, but what can barely be described as a “typical hip-hop” audience. One line in particular stood out to me: “Mushawarukwa, maspeaker ndakamwesa!” Hailing from Mutare myself; I am not unfamiliar with Manyika rap, with the likes of NME and Project Fam boasting among some of the finest the nation has seen. But at the risk of slander (I am not, I promise!) the accent was Manyika, but the word choice was largely within the realm of mutually intelligible Shona words. “Mweka/Mwesa” is a distinctive Manyika term: he was talking to his people here.
Immediately, I connected with a Dangamvura-based friend with whom I used to rap back in the day to see what the read on Flexxo was back home. He was…underwhelmed.
See, my friend is a hip-hop purist in his way. He is the type of purist who believes that hip-hop should sound a certain way and, oftentimes, that certain way has to be as close an approximation of 90s era gangsta and street conscious rap in both sound and themes as possible. None of this sing-songy, mumble, stuff- and definitely not any heightened regional flow rooted in dialect! I too am a hip-hop purist in my way. I believe, within the basic tenets of sound and culture that situate it within a genre, hip-hop is at its best when it sounds like the artist and whoever it is he is talking to: it’s not and should not be one thing. In any case, word on the ground tends to hold much weight, so I decided to watch closely for a while.
In the intervening decade, I’ve kept my eye on what is incontrovertibly the flagbearer of Manicaland rap music this side of the Government of National Unity. The first full body of work that I consumed was 2015’s Mushawarukwa: The Mixtape - his second after 2012’s Mahobi.While the 21-track project is indeed a mixtape as alluded in the name; it bears the curation of an album and, in many ways, serves as the spiritual forerunner to debut album, Shiripiti (that’s what you’re here for, right? We’ll get to it in a bit, I promise.) Flexxo has also dropped a series of singles, including the lyrical masterpiece that is “Expozed”, the Power FM-charting “House Arrest”, a freestyle to Asaph Afrika’s “Mambo” beat appropriately tiled “Bambo,” and the fun braggadocio anthem “Tosangana Ikoko” featuring the ever-delightful Natasha Muz. The latter is, by some margin, the most played song on his YouTube, and for my money, should have been bigger than it has been.
While the spitter leaves no doubt lingering about his Mutare loyalties, Flexxo has also been prolific in engaging with the larger Zim Hip-hop space—not just to put himself and city on, but for the love of genre and country; whether that is being a panelist at the Zim Hip-hop summit, hosting and just being a don at Shoko Festival, and curating the Mutare cypher for the Zim Hip Hop Awards in 2024 (having been nominated in the Best Underground category at the same show back in 2016.) Give that man a Bell’s.
So you can imagine my excitement when, in November, I saw that Mushawarukwa had dropped a new album, and twicely so when I finally got to sit down with it, a whole two months later. I had to double-check with the man himself that this, indeed, was his first album, given his aforementioned veteran status!I…was not disappointed. Not that I was expecting to be. But first albums, and projects from artists who release sporadically, can go in one of many directions: I liked the direction that this one went.
The album opens with the aptly titled “Nhanganyaya”, an introductory barfest that establishes a direct line between this project and the aforementioned Mushawarukwa: The Mixtape, whose introductory track is named the same.
The best way I can describe the album, both thematically and sonically, is thus: it is a loveletter to home and, in particular, the struggles of home; the music of home; and the love received from home. Let’s dissect it thus:
The Love of Home-Beauty, Struggle and All
By now we’ve established that Mushawarukwa’s career and persona is a walking love letter to Mutare/Manicaland, and this album serves to reiterate that reality. Wasu country is all over this project. We see this most prominently on the aptly named track 15, “KwaMutare Beautiful” in which he shouts out everything from the beautiful scenery, proximity to Zimbabwe, Africa University, the Bocha mines to some of the city’s movers and shakers. The project also features other Mutare heavyweights, I Finton (famous for his run on Germany’s The Voice a few years ago), and MK Hombakadzi of the iconic trio Projekt Family. Even as he expands the domain of his affection to the entirety of Zimbabwe on “Alright” with Kaygee40, he references Mutare an above average number of times, chanting on the outro: “Mosi a Tunya pana Zambezi/ Chinhoyi Caves igumbezi
Vumba ichipinza Bhora mugedhi/Nyanga ichinakidza vari sad”
That’s Manicaland at 50% of all that’s cool about the teapot-shaped land: take that, Great Zimbabwe! I kid, of course; but the love for city and province is palpable here.
Indeed, even with the inflated number of love/girl songs on the project ( I count five on a sixteen-track project!), the love is couched within the terms of “she represents home; she is home.” And on “Huya”, when his erstwhile paramour is cheating on him, she is spotted at the lodges (a la: the opposite of being home.) It’s a thing. (and as I do my final edits here, I came across Flexxo’s most recent FB post, which reads, “I might drop the so called "heavy bars" but at home I'm just a husband anoto tongwawo nemukadzi "- which served as affirmation of my sentiment from the very hip-hop gods ;)
Yet, even as he celebrates home, he is under no illusions around its trials in tribulations: one may even argue that, if home is the connecting theme that you find when you dig beneath the surface, struggle is the surface level manifestation thereof. Songs like 'Makonzo', 'Makaita Henyu Landlord', 'Hazvina Kumira Fine', 'Alright', and “Ndakudawo” are all lamentations around surviving the oft-bleak existence of Ghetto Zimbabwe. “Makaita Henyu Landlord” (‘Thank You, Landlord’), in particular, is a masterful subversion of the (albeit justified) “woe is me” at the hands of authority trope and, instead, becomes a defiant statement on par with Kunta Kinte refusing the “Toby” tag. (SN; Landlords, please do better! We are all human here.)
Music as Home
Shiripiti also serves as a love letter to the soundtrack of home- the very music itself. While much of the production shows Flexo as a quintessential fan of 90s, post-boom bap era Hip-hop, it often comes infused with rhythms reminiscent of an actual bira with Mabhodhoro going nuts on the ngoma, as seen on theTafaz-featuring “Mushawarukwa Wapinda.” Then comes the features; from pioneering Zim Hip Hop artist Metaphysics (of Peace of Ebony), to urban grooves era icons like MK47 and Gze, to contemporaries like Ti Gonzi, and even reggae artists like I-Finton and Ras Caleb,
Beyond the sonics, lyrical tropes, and features, it is the reverence with which he references noteworthy tropes and elements from the Zim scene. On the Metaphysic-featuring “Huruva,” for example, he raps:
“Kana tapinda muguta, moto muzhinji, Mashakada (Huruva!)/Ndiine maGoons angu matatu, kunge mabhande aZhakata (Huruva!)
Playful, yes. But those punches only work if you have a decent appreciation of 90s Zimbabwean music that couldn't be further from hip-hop. To know Mashakada’s nickname (RIP) was Moto Muzhinji, and Karikoga rocked up with the multilayered belts. Similarly, on “Havazi Kukuziva” Flexxo raps: “isa tambo zvaakusparka, aka, ikaka…..naye kunge utakataka.” The bar serves as a shout out to Dancehall’s Enzo Ishall’s ‘Kanjiva,’ as well as Sungura’s Tongai Moyo (RIP) and the Utakataka Express’s mid 2000s hit “Nemumvura Mese” (“Naye.’) Nothing more poignantly encapsulates this intergenerational, inter-genre homage to Zimbabwean music than the Ras Caleb-assisted “Magamba”, which, for my money, is quite possibly the best “in memoriam” song I have heard (not dedicated to just one person.) While this trope is not new in Zim music (heck, our resident failed rapper dropped one such effort on his last album before retirement.) What makes Flexxo’s joint special is just how relevant each descriptor is to the dearly departed artist in question. A typical song might just rifle through artists names, or lean on the very obvious generic rhyme, (a la “James Chimombe aiva Muhombe, Tongai Moyo achiti Hokoyo” type stuff.) But when Flexxo says:
“Ndinodzamirwa ndikafunga mudhara Mutukudzi/Vakavhura nzira kumarudzi nemarudzi/Kana Mr. Chitungwiza, John Chibadura, imba zhinji dzakamira muchitsanangura/Mukoma Cephas Mashakada, kubva ndichi mudiki, waitirangaridza kuti tikudze musiki”
It works perfectly because it’s not just rhyming: Tuku was the most internationally renowned of his cohort, Chibadura’s message was always didactic about domestic affairs, and Mashakada was sungura royalty with a distinctive gospel tinge. Or, when he says:
“Mukoma Simon Chimbetu, ndinokupemberera/ Nezvino, dzinza renyu riri kudya nedendera”
It resonates immediately because we know dendera is synonymous with Chopper and, indeed, he ushered in possibly the most distinctive musical dynasty in Zim music history.
To be clear, this is not the thematic, or even clean, totality of the album—but these do stand out. Mushawarukwa is here for real, and his debut album can take its place among some of the better debut albums that Zim hip-hop has seen.
Now, I would be disingenuous to claim that I found the project perfect. My first gripe hearkens back to a point I made earlier: there are FIVE songs about/to a girl out of 16. To have a whole third of a debut project from a generally gritty rapper (as opposed to a styled lover-boy type) be about gyal dem is…a lot, and took me out the element a bit. None of the songs are obvious skips, but two or three would have sufficed for this project. On the same tip, I was underwhelmed by the more house-leaning “Never”, but upon subsequent listens, I see its utility; it may not be for the hip-hop heads, but it is party/vibe-friendly, and I suspect may get the most radioplay. My other gripe, and this is minor, is with track #4. You hear the name “Hazvina Kumira Fine”; and it’s ominous. You see Rayobeats on the credits, and your hopes are raised. Then you hear the beat, and it’s possibly the best beat on the album. And you hear that 2010s Goat candidate Ti Gonzi is featured. And you listen, and both Gonzi and Flexxo are rapping as if their lives depended upon it. About…how they are confined to the home. I know it’s a lived reality; but I had really hoped it told the story of going to war!
My biggest gripe, and for this, Flexxo, come to the front of the class. On ‘Ndakudawo,’ spitter drops the bar “Upenyu mamusoro bhangu- madzoro!” which I immediately crowned as the best bar on the project; only for him to use the same bar, verbatim, on the album’s final track, “Diesel Engine” with MK47. I couldn’t believe my ears. He didn’t even try to modify it- just copy and paste! That it was the dopest bar on the project, and that MK47 came in war-ready, further highlighted the awkwardness here.
Other than that, the album is a solid offering- and hopefully troubles “Album of the Year” conversations this year.
Personal Favorite Tracks: Ndakudawo, Magamba, Huruva, KwaMutare Beautiful, Diesel Engine.
Fire Bars: “Upenyu mamusoro bhangu- madzoro!” (Ndakudawo/Diesel Engine.)
“Wallet yangu i onion, ndikaivhura ndinochema” (Ndakudawo)“Hakuna mabasa kunga barber waRasta.”- Tionesei
“Mudzimu haupi kaviri, asi ndine vana vatatu…” matter of fact, the whole MK47 verse may well be the best on the album. (MK, my GWOAT candidate; my iconic Wasu sis….how did YOU end up on this other list?)
Bigger Picture
While other little gripes are a matter of taste, I was initially annoyed by the album not being on DSPs (except on YouTube.) What I had assumed might have been on “kusarongeka” on Flexxo’s part turned out to be a clever bit of business: he is selling it to folks on a “pay what you can” basis, but will eventually be on DSPs. So while not immediately accessible to the masses, imagine if he sells just 20 copies at an average of $10. That’s $200, sending files he already has and owns. For those of you/us who dabble in putting out music (and aren’t on Holy Ten levels of popularity) know that $200 is a herculean amount to amass via DSPs. So this way, if you have a decent ground game, you can recoup production costs decently while building buzz, and then drop it on DSPs to pick up the rest of the scraps; not bad at all.
It, however, bothers me that his most viewed video on YouTube sits at just under 7000 views. I don’t know that the rubicon is; but Mushawarukwa deserves better. Flexxo also made a point to shout regional radio stations as a fundamental democratizing force on the airwaves. He opines, when I asked how he felt about his place in the parthenon of Zim hip-hop, that “I think I'm all of the above; meaning I'm celebrated a lot, especially in Mutare, (but) also a little underrated and definitely GOATed. I have radio stations and fans that are loyal, especially in Mutare.”
It has to be bigger than Harare.
And so it is.
