Bruce Ndlovu, Sunday Life Reporter
THE Hudson Road Trip album opens with a folktale, the age-old story of umvundla loNteletsha. It is a familiar enough folktale, one that is almost like a rite of passage for any child growing up in Zimbabwe.
In one stroke, that song sets the tone for an album that is meant to signify blues maestro Hudson Simbarashe’s journey back to the musical roots that Zimbabweans have long abandoned as they thirst for sounds from beyond the country’s borders. In the days of TVs, smartphones and other gadgets, such tales have been relegated to the periphery. They are no longer the storytelling staple on which children are raised, as instead parents turn to the cartoons that ready their children for a world in which perfect English accents are demanded even from the tongues of toddlers.
However, in communities where the network coverage is still elusive, villages which Simbarashe navigated as he searched for unblemished village voices, such tales still hold away, allowing children to dream and fantasise about a magical life far away from their own reality, which might seem mundane in comparison.
The lyrics on songs such as Isangoma and Nyoni are simple, yet honest, with echoes of Ndebele proverbs that are laden with meaning and moral lessons. On those songs in which the vocal prowess of artistes that have never been inside a recording booth are highlighted, Simbarashe’s qualities as the conductor of this diverse symphony shine through, as he provides a neat canvass for them to paint a picture of their simple lives that are guided by even simpler principles.
The song Zimangele feels like an odyssey through the Matabeleland’s history, as poet Ronald Mabhena outlines the journeys and travails of the Ndebele royal family in the most eloquent way. In the later parts of the song, Simbarashe’s bass guitar bounces off Mabhena’s voice, as he unrelentingly unloads verse after verse, in an attempt to unravel a tribe’s entire origin story in just over nine minutes.
The album’s interludes are as fascinating as any of the full songs. Without the cushion of instruments, Getrude Dube’s voice on the minute-and-a-half long Akula Ndaba is piercing and haunting, as she sings about the sacred Njelele shrine. As she sings, like a woman recently possessed by an eloquent spirit, she is backed ably by other village women, whose voices seem to gain strength as the interlude races toward what feels like a premature end. While these are everyday songs to be sung while they toil on the fields or at any given ceremony, their voices sound as if they gained an extra layer of venom when microphones were shoved in front of them.
On Ndigqibe Ndagquma, Qhamo’s voice is soothing, it is touching as she introduces a touch of Xhosa lyricism to the album. As she sings, Simbarashe looms like a shadow in the background, with his guitar giving her springboard to showcase her vocal range.
This perhaps is the most endearing part of the Hudson Road Trip. While he is undoubtedly the maestro, with his guitar the thread weaving the album into a cohesive tapestry of sound, Simbarashe takes a step back, when necessary, as if shy to let the full glare of the spotlight fall on him. When he does this, his singers, most of whom never saw a professional booth before he showed up on their doorsteps with his dust raising mini-bus, take centre stage and show that they were indeed born for the big stage.
The variety in the styles of the artistes show the lengths that Simbarashe went to record this album. Ngwexman Connection’s lyrics on Busy Bee, for example, are as pleasant as they are surprising. On an album where the spirituality of Njelele is brought to life and old age folktales are packaged for fresh ears, it is refreshing to hear a man sing about a busy bee in such a carefree manner. The song Haile is a timely reminder that even in the midst of beauty, one can find imaginable pain. While on the road trip, Simbarashe lost his son, Haile, an excellent mbira player who passed away in his sleep.
On this track, Simbarashe’s guitar meets Haile’s mbira halfway, starting an interaction between the two instruments that sounds indeed like a conversation between a father and son.
Given the context of how it was made, the song is heartbreaking and tells the tale of a father coming to terms with the passing of his son in the only way he knows how — through music. It is perhaps fitting that the very next song, is Mina Ngyabonga, in which a thankful Bornwell Ndlovu shows gratitude, to many people including his parents, who have guided him thus far in life. It’s the kind of thank you Simbarashe will not hear again from Haile again, but in music, one can be rest assured that the guitarist and his son will always be reunited. When all is said and done, the album does a stellar job of showcasing the diversity of Matabeleland. With Simbarashe harvesting the best voices from villages spread far and wide in Plumtree, Mbembesi, Gwanda (Matshetsheni), Lupane, Tsholotsho, Kezi, Matopos, West Acre and Mawabeni, the Hudson Road Trip was a worthy adventure, allowing one of the country’s legendary jazz musicians to connect with roots that perhaps, as we stampede to embrace everything modern, we have long since abandoned.