Hymns of Bantu
Works by JS Bach, Abel Selaocoe et al
Abel Selaocoe (cello, vocal); Bantu Ensemble; Manchester Collective et al
Warner Classics 2173245895 55:34 mins
Clip: Abel Selaocoe – Kea Morata
‘When you come from a diverse mix of cultures,’ says Abel Selaocoe, South African cellist, vocalist and composer, ‘you don’t choose how things come together and how the DNA congeals, but in this land of incredible rhythm all of this stuff becomes part of your ancestral memory.’ Selaocoe has been making waves ever since bursting onto the classical music scene in 2016 with his genre-breaking ensemble Chesaba. Fusing the musical heritage of South Africa with Western classical repertoire and techniques, Selaocoe has created a distinct and beautiful soundworld, which this ambitious new album takes to a new level.
- 'It was a humbling lesson...' - when Abel Selaocoe played for an audience of two
- Five of the best South African composers
Hymns of Bantu is grounded in the modal scales and overtone harmonic systems of South African music before the introduction of Western four-part harmony, and the album’s 12 tracks feature a broad mix of instrumental line-ups, blending solo cello, African percussion, string orchestra and electric bass in various formations. The music moves between arresting new arrangements of Bantu music and work by Bach and Marais, chosen carefully to illustrate the musical synergies between these seemingly contrasting traditions. In the composer’s words, ‘the crux of the album is about celebrating those that have come before us, and how we are all connected. It’s allowing classical music to again sit in the same space as where I’m from – allowing Bach to sit next to overtones and the world of throat singing.’
The result is powerful, inventive and irresistibly enjoyable. The first track takes the famous South African hymn Tsohle Tsohle(meaning ‘everything is everything’ in Sesotho) as its springboard, settling into a gentle groove overlaid with swirling strings from the Manchester Collective and soaring improvised vocals from Selaocoe. The gloriously upbeat Emmanuele is an exhilarating highlight of the album and features the dream-team percussion trio of Sidiki Dembele, Dudù Kouate and Fred Thomas.
Much of the album is driven by such rhythmic dynamism, but there are also many welcome moments of introspection, including the lullaby-like Tsepo I, where Selaocoe’s voice is at its tenderest, and Voices of Bantu which melds an improvised response to Marais’s Pièces de viole, Livre II, Suite No. 3 with some extraordinary overtone singing from Selaocoe.
A thoughtful reimagining of the Sarabande from Bach’s Cello Suite No. 6 in D Major, BWV 1012 is another standout moment, heard here in a sumptuous arrangement by Fred Thomas for cello and string ensemble. Selaocoe renders the solo cello line with great beauty and assurance, while the special intimacy of the recording quality – the sounds of breath, and the contact between fingers and strings lightly audible throughout – reminds us of the vital, embodied nature of musical performance with poignant intensity.
This is an utter delight of an album, offering a potent reminder of the life-affirming power of music to bring joy, and to begin to right the wrongs of the past. For Selaocoe, the album is about ‘taking what once hurt and turning it around, since when I listen to South African hymnal music it doesn’t ring of colonial hurt. It just rings of healing.’ Kate Wakeling
