Mtandazo Dube Bolt Cutter
LAST week we asked what the hell Fungisai was thinking flying Generator to the UK. Should we ask Dr Oliver Mtukudzi what the hell he was thinking bringing his wife to a Hifa stage?
The past week was a real buffet: from Prophet Tich Mataz, the Zimbabwe Achievers Awards (where Killer T got special recognition), Flop Flop or was it Fiesta Fiesta, to superstar Daisy Mtukudzi. We were all indeed spoilt for choice.
You must be thinking I’m off my rocker to call Daisy a superstar. Yes, she is.
Do we not have people who become prophetesses because their husbands are prophets, probably by some sexually transmitted anointing?
Impartation works in mysterious ways. Tich Mataz can prophesy because his pastor or prophet or papa or whatever says he can. And he got his gift via a cellphone!
So yes, Daisy is a music superstar because her husband is one. Tuku almost had all of Hifa to himself. Some have even called it the Tuku Festival instead of Hifa, and they can be forgiven for that.
All three main events — that is the opening act, the Friday main show and the closing fiesta on the Sunday — would have been disastrous were it not for Tuku and his ma gic powers.
Surely his wife deserves a piece of the pie. It was their festival. So what business do mere music fans have meddling in a family business?
Daisy and Tuku were having a time of their life on that stage. People are angry because Winky D performed one song and now you want to take your anger out on Daisy. That’s patently unfair!
So I had a chat with the superstar couple after the show. And both Daisy and Tuku were unperturbed by the whole hullabaloo surrounding the former’s performance on stage.
Even when faced with the unforgiving sharp blades of the Bolt Cutter, and fully aware that their names and faces could be plastered on these pages in an unflattering manner, the pair remained at ease, even joking about it.
Said Mtukudzi: “To an extent I understand where people are coming from, those that do not get the concept that is. But we have been clear from the start. I have shared the stage with my son (the late Sam), my daughters and countless other artistes from around the globe. But I had not done so with my wife.
“Remember what I said when we introduced her voice in music — she did not even want to sing — but I said let us do it. We spend almost all our time together, be it for overseas tours, family gatherings, holidays, local shows, and we run our business together.
“It only makes sense that she comes into my space and gets a real feel of what it is like. It’s only one song, (and) that means a lot to her and to me, our friends, family and fans.”
In his usual jocular manner, Tuku said Daisy was not an 18-year-old being positioned for a career in music. “In this case, Daisy is no potential musician — she is just my Daisy enjoying some priceless moments with her husband; and when we get home we laugh about it and it gives us more to share as a couple.”
Could we have seen the last of Daisy on stage? “No. We will continue having our fun, it’s our thing, call it stage romance if you like. Didn’t you hear how people screamed when I invited her to the stage?” (Laughing).
At Hifa, Mtukudzi played with Mahube, an assortment of musical talent from Southern Africa, then he hosted artistes — including Winky D — on his Friday slot, and was a guest of Habib Koite on the Sunday.
If it were anyone else, it would have been an overkill. But hey, this is Oliver Mtukudzi, one of the 10 most bankable artistes in Africa, at least according to Forbes.
With Hifa clutching at straws this year and facing underwhelming crowds, Tuku stepped up and saved the day, or rather the week. The festival also served as a trial run of sorts for gigs lined up this year as Tuku reaches the ripe age of 65.
He is set to throw the “mother of all bashes” for his 65th birthday, and no one should make ugly noises if he decided to call his Daisy onto the stage.
Enough about Tuku, Daisy and Hifa. Andy Muridzo needs help. He needs to get his confidence back.
With over 10 000 fans at the Castle Tankard at Borrowdale Racecourse in Harare (where my pick cantered home as if it was in a horse show and not in Zimbabwe’s richest race!), young Muridzo was expected to shine. I expected him to shine. You expected him to shine. We all expected him to shine.
Instead he flickered, choked and died.
The guy seems unsure whether he should do cover versions or establish himself as a genuine article. Music fans see these things, and no matter how good one’s voice is, if it is not what they expect they will simply buy something else. An artiste should know the crowd. That crowd had been subjected to a DJ playlist the whole day and was waiting for sweet relief of live music.
And what does Muridzo do? He decides to be a jukebox playing on request. If he had a coin slot on his forehead for the requests he accepted, he would be making jingling sounds every time he nods. Talented he is, but I think he is just not ready for the big time.
Muridzo is over rated. He hasn’t yet reached the stage where he can hold his own on grand stages like the Castle Tankard. He can still get there, time is on his side. But does he have the right attitude, the right amount of confidence to take the plunge? Then there is the vocal Peter Moyo. By vocal I mean talkative — not gifted vocalist.
In 11 days he launches his album. Hopefully he can get it right this time around. Mazuva awanda agara pachigaro ichi, ngaachitiradza humambo hwacho! (It’s been a while since he took over the reins from his father Tongai Moyo, he should now show us what he is capable of).
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