Nhlanhla Hlongwane
Thursday night at Yeoville’s House of Tandoor is reggae night and, until the wee hours, it’s the place to be. The house has a rotating pool of DJ crews who fling the full spectrum of reggae and hip-hop.
The two main crews in Johannesburg that deal with reggae are the Sounds of Edutainment, who are the official ghetto sound system, and the Mandela Sound Crew who have the inner-city ragga scene locked down.
The Mandela Sound Crew deal mostly with hardcore, raw ragga while Sounds of Edutainment deal mostly with roots reggae, dub and conscious dancehall. Sounds of Edutainment’s Ras Zweli and Ras Jabu, who are more often than not stressed about the politics and goings-on at Tandoor, consider reggae music “a mission and not a competition – because it is a message from our King Haile Selassie. It is a mission for the healing of the nation. Competition,” they say, “is a game for sound boys.”
Thursday January 28 belonged to the Mandela Sound Crew. It was Bob Marley’s “earthday” and he kept the people in a steady groove. It was a refreshingly cool evening after a scorcher of a day. In-house politics seemed to have been resolved and the reggae massives stood in anticipation as Selector Admiral and DJ Appleseed readied themselves. Testing one, two …
Everybody came out, African Muslims from up north in kufis, repatriates and visitors from all over the diaspora. There were Afrocentric university students in dashikis, and there were Seventies retro, music industry celebs. Others prominent to the youth culture were there in couples and crews.
Yeoville residents Ghetto Luv, a visible and permanent fixture at Tandoor, were burning a hole in the floor. DJ Mphulo and the Hoop Tour Crew were also there canvassing the joint, getting the ins and outs on this and that. Bongo Maffin’s Speedy was chilling very hard as usual, as MCs and toasters – in street and military fatigue – from Yeoville, Tembisa and elsewhere profiled the spot. White, Indian and so-called coloured folk came from everywhere. Even though the music hadn’t started yet – just Bob keeping time – people were coming in in droves.
There was only room to rock steady. And there was an Indian guy who just couldn’t stop smiling – you’d think he’d died twice and gone to heaven.
All of this was proof that, even among the youth of today, Bob Marley remains legendary and his message is still mystical and relevant.
It was reggae night and if you inhale then you can indulge. Everybody was on a level, and the feeling was irie. Perhaps our leaders can take a lesson from this. There was a camera crew, capturing a glimpse of what might just be possible – if only we could get our shit right.
Even Admiral’s selection was new for a change. New tunes and selections kept the floor thick. Nobody was going anywhere for a long while. Some came to release stress, some to affirm and socialise, some for business and pleasure, some to take a peek and others to inhale without police harassment.
Well past midnight the power tripped on the ravers as Tony Rebel was singing his Tandoor favoutite, Jah by My Side. Nobody panicked. Nothing moved except the dotted glows of spliffs and loosies. No need for alarm, nothing new with underground sounds. Within seconds the power was back, and selector Admiral came on again.
By the time one of the many renditions of By the Rivers of Babylon came on, people were in a trance. Buju Banton’s I Don’t Know Why always rocks the house. (I have the single at home but I never leave Tandoor until I’ve heard it, loud.) Anybody who knows the song, and who has ever loved anybody, jumps up. For the next three minutes everybody is Buju and his background vocalists simultaneously, singing high and low, some out of “chune”. But nobody listens for that.
On Thursdays at Tandoor the vibe is nice. Just love, love, love. That’s how it is when a nation is in a reggae groove. Oneness with the heartbeat and the bass thump.