Music Review : Soundz of the South – Freedom Warriors Vol. 2

Posted on February 28, 2014 by disciplemag

Soundz of the South (SOS) is an anti-capitalist, cultural activists’ collective, which uses Hip-hop and poetry to spread revolutionary messages, raise consciousness and fight oppression as part of the broader struggle to emancipate all. Towards the end of last year (2013), they launched a second volume of their Freedom Warriors Music Series, featuring songs on “the brutal murder of Andries Tatane, the Marikana Massacre, the Farmwokers Revolt, the Mandela Betrayal and the Afrikan Revolution.”

Soundz of the South – Freedom Warriors Vol. 2 – album art

-       Reviewed by Khaya Maseko

Last week was a good week to rediscover Hip Hop. I’d just been to a Hip Hop party after 6 years out of that scene. I’ve been quite tired of the range (or lack thereof) of modern Emcees. Freedom Warriors 2 gave me a chance to listen to some good beats and conscious lyrics, straight from eMzansi. It’s packing a lot of heat at 16 full tracks of Sounds of the South Hip Hop.

Anarchy, dissent, revolution and downright terrorism are the main subject of this compilation of diverse Emcees and beats. Anti-state, Anti-capitalist lyrics are the order of the album. With track titles like “Hip Hop Toyitoyi”, “Rest in Protest” and “Animal Farm”, one should be prepared for a political kick in the sternum. I follow Producers, and that’s what matters most to me. So when I heard what iNfo was producing for the vocalists on this compilation, I was bobbing like it’s ’94. Tracks I’ve been listening to this week are “They feed on it”, featuring Godobori, Zanzolo and Khusta. The track has this refraining guitar riff in the background. A doomy trumpet that’s reminiscent of minimal Wu Tang work. I believe the beat is made by Dj McCraken, and it rides out smooth throughout to the last lyric: “Amandla ngawethu.” The tracks range in subject matter from the brutal murder of Andies Tatane to the Marikana Massacre and Farmworker’s revolts and the beats keep up with the sharp lyrical pace. Manje, I must state, that my favourite joint is “Caravan”. There’s a French Emcee on that track that makes the dark, haunting beat just work! Those atmospheric fills and breaks remind me of why I love producing myself. I love the feel of the track. The kick drum reminds me of a slowed down “If I Ruled The World” by Nas. The Emcees unleash the sound like a bona fide crew that has been rhyming together for years.

Another joint I have been giving more rotation is “Ballistic”. Godobori goes solo on this one but his lyrics make sure we keep up. “I’m a bulldozer, going through impediments/ Transfer the power from the state to the residents/ Bomb cop stations and destroy all the evidence./ This bourgeois democracy is just another pestilence/ These are not my views this is working class sentiment.” I personally enjoy and condone talk of anarchy, defying bad governance and giving power back to the people who deserve it.

This album gave me a taste of what 2014 was gonna give. This was a semi-strong delivery that can only grow with the productions they’ve given us to date. I personally found the melodic recording quality shocking for the female singers. It’s funny that you can record 4 guys shouting into a mic so well but have trouble with 1 songstress. And yes, it could have spent a bit more time in the Mastering suite. iNfo, I’m talking to you. But it wouldn’t be underground Hip Hop if it wasshiny-polished like your pair of high school Toughees, would it?

To contact Soundz of the South, email: soundzofthesouth@gmail.com

LETTER TO BIG MAN G -By Mphutlane Bofelo

 Child of hip hop!

Your hair is a political banner
Fifty-inches of black thread
Flying higher than the red flag
Kinky rug thicker than dolly pattern’s wig
The size of a brick is
The sole of your snicker
Like Jesus on water
You stroll in the air
Knees ninety degrees
Pants fifteen degrees below the bum
A symbolic expression
Of the state of the world
A reflection of the state of the heads
Of the heads of states….

Child of hip hop!

Let diamonds and pearls
 Ooze from your flows
Rather than chain you neck
To keep your butt
Indebted to the markert
Let the glow of your lyrical light
Glitter more than the Bling-bling
Around the wrists of R(hyme)A(nd)P(omp) masters
 Showbiz fat-cats playing
Ping-pong games with words
Hoping verbal aerobics will
Help lower down high cholesterols
As they smile & shout cheeeese
 To the click of the camera
Chewing McDonald humbugger
 Washing down with whisky and Jack D
 Waiting with baited breath
For the official announcement
Of the best radio & television advert
Thinking the airwaves can ever be a substitute
For the irrepressible medium of word-of-mouth
Person-to-person & heart to heart
Frank talk among the masses underground
Forgetting the media can never
Replace the indefatigable communal press
Of the word on the street
The message on the wall
Unplugged & uncensored discourse
 Between the people and their poets
Through the open mic
Without the middle man & the trappings of capital
Or the lure of record deals & the seduction of SAMA awards

Son of man!
They say pronunciation
Has no master
We can all say
The same facts differently
& mean one truth
We can spell truth differently
And say onething
But is our interpretation of facts
And the meaning we attach
To truth and things the same
And does our worldview
Not inform how we pronounce things
Does not our pronunciation
 Pronounce who we are
& does not who we are
Inform what we mean
When we shout hip hop
Do we really mean and say
One and the same thing
Do we pronounce the same reality?
Or are the truths we pronounce
Defined by the world we live in
If our worlds define our realities
& our realities inform how
We pronounce ourselves
Then who we are
Defines the hip hop we pronounce
Thus my question to you
Son of a beat
Sucker for melody
Glutton for word-pictures
Seeker of remedies in images
Born to the sound of the beat-box
Cyphos for nursery
Street-battles for schools
Open mic the alma mater
The vinyl a weapon
Of mass ranting & unflinching raving
Your movement is a dance
Every moment of your life
There is a beat in your head
Your heart pumps thousands couplets
 Three-thousand time in a second
Your mouth spits a rhyme
One kilometer per second
Deejays scratch endlessly in search
Of mere echoes of the beat
 Of the tu ne released by your sneeze
Son of a gun!
 Which hip hop do you pronounce?
 & what does it pronounce
Is it hip hurrah! The chant of a raver
Is yours hip-hip hurray! The rave of a pop-star
Or is it the prayer of a street gambler
Hey, pop!
The scream
Of the dice thrower
Calling for 5:2, 4:3, 6:1
Or 6:5 Madice!
Hey, pop!
 A song to the Knox man
Quick buck a gateway
To fame and crass consumerism
More booze and plenty booty
Is yours a He-pop?
 A male-centric music genre
Peddling lyrical debauchery & sexist rhymes
Naked nymphs on album sleeves
Porn-jive orgies on the screen
Nudity dances disguised as choreography
Or do you mean
He pops?
Finger popping
Heroin popping
Bling-bling slave
Glorified thug
Advertorial pawn
Zombie of the markert
Dancing on the mainstream stage
Eh, pop! Or is it, hi pop?
Greetings to the popular
Halleluiah to fashion and trends
Or is it high tech pop
Pop rocking at high-voltage point
Technotronic e-noise & gibberish vocals
A mass slaughter of people’s eardrums
Or maybe you too are on high hop
A qualitative jump
From exteriorities to the intrinsic
Popular music elevated
To the higher level
Of grassroots consciousness
Aesthetic excellence & thematic quality
Nurtured from the sweet nectar
 Of the soil underground