A TRICKLE of mourners gathered at the Central Methodist Church in Johannesburg this week to pay their final respects to Peta Teanet, the king of Shangaan disco who was killed on July 13. Apart from Mzwakhe Mbuli who acted as master of ceremonies, there were few high-profile artists to honour their slain colleague, and no representatives from the Musicians Union of South Africa. Except for Peter Tlale, vice-president of the African Promoters Consultative Committee, most of the eulogies were delivered by the upper ranks of Mac Villa Records, RPM and CCP, the record companies behind “one of the most successful entertainers in South Africa”.
“Most of his fans live up north and maybe it was too early in the day for musicians to get up,” joked one of the mourners. Yet, at first, who could be blamed for thinking that Teanet has been caught as much in the crossfire of posthumous hype — targeted specially at those who die young and violently — as of a stray bullet fired from a policeman’s gun outside a bar in Tzaneen.
But as the service progressed and tributes flowed from the MEC for Safety and Security in the Northern Province, where Teanet was born and died, to his “brother” — RPM’s Irwin Shlossberg — a picture evolved not of a media myth, but a musical dynamo with unflinching focus and an energy level measurable on the Richter Scale.
Born on June 16 1966 (but never one to capitalise on the political significance of such a birthdate), Teanet’s career epitomised the romanticised, self- taught “rags to riches” road travelled by many black South African musicians. He played keyboards, sang in a choir and even performed three songs on Radio Tsonga before travelling to Johannesburg in search of the platinum pot at the end of the rainbow. He found it with albums like Maxaka (1988), Divorce Case (1980) and a prolific succession of hit albums, up until Pashasha Volume II which was completed in June and is scheduled for release in September. Last week the press announced that the album would be out to coincide with Teanet’s funeral this Saturday, but the family have requested that the release be delayed as a sign of respect.
Year after year, Teanet churned out his accessible blend of traditional Shangaan rhythms moulded to a disco beat. Following in the footsteps of the late Paul Ndlovu, his musical mentor, he excelled in the kind of bubblegum sounds which often make up in snap, crackle and pop what they lack in socio- political substance.
Teanet was a DJ’s dream. Unlike Mzwakhe Mbuli, Juluka, Calabash and those artists whose work was either banned or ignored because of its politically subversive content, Teanet’s music was populist, apolitical, inoffensive and eminently marketable to black listeners. The fact that many whites — even those intimately involved with the black music scene in the 1980s — heard of Teanet only after his death, owes as much to the divide `n’ rule mindset of our airwaves as it does to his Shangaan lyrics.
During a career spanning eight years, Teanet was the undisputed monarch of a particular style of disco, laying the groundwork for Penny Penny and other exponents of the genre. But he is also remembered as a successful record producer of Vuyelwa, Shamila, Emma Teanet (his daughter), Julius Bomba and Ashanti, to mention but a few.
“I met Peta eight years ago and everything about him was on fire,” recalled Rob Price of RPM, the company that produced and promoted his hits until this year.
“He was like a brother, a man of incredible energy, focus and commitment who will be missed and mourned terribly,” said Shlossberg, managing director of RPM.
`He had this extraordinary presence,” added Orrack Chabangu, promotions manager at CCP, the recording company which recently took over from RPM as his promoter. “He commanded instant respect and was devoted to his wives and children.”
His family — eight wives who accompanied him on tours as his backing vocalists, and 13 children — inevitably face an uncertain future. Rumours of bankruptcy were angrily dismissed at the service. But talk also revolves around his apparently insatiable sex drive and the “suspicious” circumstances surrounding his death.
“Peta was only with CCP for a short while,” says Harvey Roberts, MD of CCP, “so I didn’t really get the chance to know him as well as I would have liked. But his presence was extraordinary, as was his confidence in who he was and where he was going. His contribution has been immense both as a musician and producer.”
And to the modest crowd at the memorial service, this is the way “the real Peta Teanet” (to quote the title of his 1991 album) will be remembered.