In an era where South African hip-hop is increasingly shaped by global sounds and viral moments, K.Keed and Orish are looking in the opposite direction. Their latest collaborative project, Umgaranto II, is less concerned with international validation than with documenting the people, places and culture that shaped them.
“We want to be a reference point,” the duo say.
“When the world is looking at our music and the visual representation of it, they need to see what South Africa is.”
That intention sits at the heart of Umgaranto II. The eight-track collaborative album doesn’t present itself as a grand reinvention of South African hip-hop. Instead, it feels like a carefully considered reminder that authenticity has currency.
Every beat, language choice and cultural reference is rooted in the neighbourhoods the two artists call home, making the project feel unmistakably local without sounding dated.
Even before pressing play, the album signals its intentions. The cover art features Gundi no Mazwi, the puppet duo familiar to many South Africans through spaza shop skits and township comedy.
It is an instantly recognisable image that evokes a shared cultural memory. Much like the music itself, the artwork embraces everyday South African life instead of trying to aestheticise or sanitise it.
The title is equally revealing. While umgaranto literally translates to “advertisements” or “ad break” in isiXhosa, K.Keed and Orish use the word differently.
“We both have our individual careers,” K.Keed explains. “Once we have time, we take an ad break and give the people something. Apart from him dropping his own stuff and me dropping my own stuff, we come together again and give people what we’ve been working on.”
That spirit carries throughout the project. Rather than feeling like a side quest between solo releases, Umgaranto II sounds like two artists returning to a creative space that has always come naturally to them.
The chemistry is unsurprising. The pair grew up in the same neighbourhood, their families know each other and, by their own admission, they have spent years making music together before ever deciding to release a joint project.
“The first one was actually a spontaneous decision,” they explain.
“We work a lot together and people really enjoy our chemistry in the music. We had so much music together that we thought, ‘When are we going to release all these songs?’”
That history makes the collaboration feel effortless. Neither artist appears to dominate the other. Instead, they move through songs like long-time friends finishing each other’s thoughts, each understanding exactly when to step forward and when to create space.
Across eight tracks, the project rarely loses momentum. Songs like Amaxabiso, Goduka and Babesithi emerge as the album’s strongest moments.
Amaxabiso is immediate and infectious, balancing confident lyricism with production that feels equally suited to headphones and packed taxis. Goduka offers one of the project’s more reflective moments without sacrificing its energy, while Babesithi carries the kind of replay value that makes it easy to imagine becoming a crowd favourite.
The guest features strengthen rather than distract. Dee Koala delivers the lyrical sharpness listeners have come to expect, Bravo Le Roux brings his unmistakable presence, while Bhut Legend adds another dimension to the album’s textured soundscape. None of the collaborators overshadow the central partnership. Instead, they reinforce the communal feeling that runs through the project.
Perhaps the album’s greatest strength is its confidence in its own identity.
Many artists attempting crossover success soften regional references or adopt international aesthetics in pursuit of broader audiences.
K.Keed and Orish reject that approach entirely.
“I don’t think there’s a fear,” Orish says when asked whether focusing so heavily on township life limits their audience. “We’re all about representing South Africa and our upbringing in the best way possible.
“When we rap in our mother tongues, people can relate to that. We’re embracing our authentic selves and trying to push that culture to its fullest potential.”
That philosophy extends beyond the music.
The duo repeatedly emphasise that every aspect of the project, from the visuals to the sequencing was approached with intention.
“We want people to see the music in the visuals,” Orish explained. “Everything needs to be intertwined together. Everything needs to be cohesive.”
The cohesion is evident throughout Umgaranto II.
Even as the production embraces contemporary sounds, it never loses sight of the project’s distinctly South African DNA. It feels modern without becoming generic.
The production deserves particular praise. While rooted in hood rap, it constantly evolves, drawing from contemporary textures without chasing fleeting trends. K.Keed attributes much of that freshness to working closely with Orish, who remains immersed in the country’s changing musical landscape.
“We always try to make sure the project is as fresh as possible,” she says. “When you’re hearing it, it must feel like that moment.”
The album also reveals two artists deeply conscious of the legacy they hope to leave behind.
Asked where they see themselves within South African hip-hop’s evolving history, their answer is surprisingly ambitious.
“We want to be a reference point for kids coming up,” they say. “We want them to listen to our music and look at the visual representation of what we do so they don’t lose themselves. We want them to stay authentic by any means necessary.”
They point to classics including AKA’s Levels, Cassper Nyo-vest’s Refiloe and projects by Okma-lumkoolkat as examples of records that still resonate years after release because they captured a distinctly South African moment.
“Our main focus was to make music that stands the test of time,” Orish explained. “People still play those albums today. We want our music to be that reference for somebody else.”
The album occasionally feels almost too concise. At only eight tracks, some ideas deserve a little more room to breathe and listeners may find themselves wishing for one or two additional songs.
Yet that brevity also reflects the concept behind Umgaranto. This is an ad break, not the main feature.
What lingers most after the album ends is not simply the production or individual performances but the care that underpins every decision.
“You have to move with intent,” K.Keed says. “You can’t just do things for the sake of doing things.”
That commitment becomes even clearer when discussing why they continue to invest so much in hip-hop despite the industry’s challenges.
“This is our legacy,” they say. “There are kids looking up to us now. We can’t not care. If we say we love this thing and want to be the biggest in Africa and the world, why would we only give 10%?”