Buoyant: Zakes Bantwini opens up about the sounds that saved him, the genres he helped shape and the festival experience he’s building for South Africa. Photo: Supplied
If, like myself, you have long reached unc status, you might remember that the visuals for Zakes Bantwini’s Wasting My Time | Clap Your Hands (2013) were utterly goated back then.
Sonically, vernacular rhythms, buoyant synths, and percussive claps lock into a mantra that nods to African call-and-response while translating straight into global groove culture.
It is quintessential Bantwini. Over a decade on, Bantwini is still building on that promise. In this interview, he reflects on his two-decade career, his new single Wena Baba, and his upcoming Mayonie Open Air Festival.
What was childhood like for you?
I grew up during apartheid. I was born in the 80s, so I lived, I think, nine or ten years of my life fully in apartheid. Some people say that 1990 was when we were free, but there was still an apartheid government until 1994. So in that case, probably 13 or 14 years of my life I lived in apartheid, technically.
And what are some of the things that, when you looked around, you knew you were in apartheid?
I didn’t see anything until …. Something that I still struggle with is the language, Afrikaans. Afrikaans to me represents pain, because when that language was spoken, I knew there was going to be pain, there were going to be cries, there was going to be death, there was going to be blood, there was going to be tear gas, it was going to be chaos. When I heard that language, I knew it came with such horror.
What are some of the safer sounds that shaped you growing up?
Within that particular pain, there was always music. Protest music, music at funerals, even in celebrations … people mabesina. You would hear music when people were active in politics. At home, music would be there because of my family.
One time we sang ourselves to sleep. In hindsight, I realise that my mother did not have something to feed us. So she made us sing, you know, until we got tired and we slept.
Ubabomncane wami was a member of a gospel group, which my mother ended up managing. That’s the first time I saw a keyboard and … it was expensive. One wouldn’t have an opportunity to have it at home. But the escape was the television. … Visuals helped me understand that there was a bigger world outside of what one was looking at.
This masterful mix of the visual and the sonic … Did you always cross disciplines?
My introduction to the entertainment industry was through dance. After school, I had to attend rehearsals, and I give credit to Khwezi Mahlobo for instilling discipline in me. I was scared of him, and he was so strict that I never missed a rehearsal. If I had not been scared, I wonder what I would have done. But because of him, I went, and he opened my eyes. We started going to the Playhouse Theatre to see and do shows.
Before, dance was really synonymous with elitism, with people from well-off families, all put together, and the conversations there were very different from those in the township. I thought, okay, there are people who live like this. That saw me going to Paris, where I spent a year in 1999 dancing. But my choreographer, Jean-François, knocked the love of dance out of me. So when I came back, my life changed. I didn’t want to be a dancer anymore. I wanted to be … something else.
How old were you?
18. So when I came back, I went to study music. Because my mother wouldn’t allow me to just do music without studying it. But the fact that she supported that vision…
You must understand, my mother agreed for me to go study music when there was no example in the township for a person who studied music. KwaMashu, there was nobody who’d ever had a career in music. So it was such a big risk. My brother was studying chemical engineering and here I was wanting to study music. She passed away just as I released L’vovo Derrango’s 2007 album. She never fully saw my success, but in the end, it all worked out.
Mayonie Productions has been exploring the evolution of Afro-house and Afro-tech. What do people misunderstand about these genres and their roots?
What I love is that everybody interprets the sound the way they want. The base is always dance music. My interpretation of Afro-house is that it makes people in Soweto or KwaMashu dance, and it does the same in Ibiza, Miami, or Bali. It borrows from EDM, which is high-energy, synthesised, visual, big, mostly enjoyed in Europe. Then Soulful House, Tribal House, is more percussive, African voices, mostly enjoyed in Africa.
Afro-house combines the two, so Europeans hear themselves, Africans hear themselves. That’s why Afro-house shows are multi-racial. People love the sound across cultures.
You’ve been in this industry a long time. What are some changes you’ve seen over the past two decades?
Beautiful question. Over the past two decades, I’ve seen incredible change. We are 21 years old now at Mayonie Productions. We’ve seen people come and go (*laughs). The sound has evolved and radio has shifted. Hlaudi Motsoeneng’s influence changed everything. Before Hlaudi I knew what radio used to sound like, but after the “90%” rule, local music dominated the airwaves, publishing practices shifted, and artists finally had space to thrive.
I’ve seen people taking bold steps, and Afrotech, Afrohouse, and Amapiano have taken over the world. I’ve seen us taking back-to-back Grammys: Black Coffee, myself, then Tyla. Three years in a row! I’ve seen Liquid Deep taking a 10-year break and coming back, to be the A-list artist that they were back then. I’ve witnessed others going and when they come back, they have no space. I’ve seen a lot.
What’s missing in the industry right now?
Appetite and support. It’s not that lawyers, or engineers are naturally responsible and musicians are not. Those industries are structured so even irresponsible people are taken care of. By the time you get your pay, life cover is sorted, taxes are paid. In our industry, that structure doesn’t exist. Banks, insurance, and medical aid don’t know how to service us. These challenges are opportunities to organise.
As record labels, we should take a percentage to handle artists’ obligations. Corporates often compete with the entertainment industry instead of supporting it, running their own events instead of investing in existing ones.
The government is focused on traditional sectors like mining instead of the creative economy. Music, dance, and events drive tourism. Festivals like Tomorrowland in Belgium draw 600000 people every year, and destinations like Tulum and Bali are known for their festivals. The industry moves people and money, yet it is often overlooked.
How would you describe your new single, Wena Baba?
It’s a song that gives recognition to umveli nqangi. These days people say nkulunkulu. Others would say god or whatever superpower you believe in. It’s a song that says, “I know that there’s a superpower …” It’s giving thanks. That’s really what the song is about.
As the year ends, what’s something you want to carry forward with more intention?
Mayoni Open Air is one thing. We are doing another one next year, in April. We want to grow that imprint and make sure that people get to experience dance music like how Europeans experience it because we have a state‑of‑the‑art stage. How people enjoy me when I’m there, it’s the same thing that we’re doing here. Our production is of that level.
Mayonie Open Air takes place at Constitution Hill, Johannesburg on 30 November 2025. Tickets on Howler.