Interview with GEORGE VARDAS, producer of J.E. Movement

photo: Facebook

George Vardas was born in Greece and arrived in South Africa as a child in 1965, growing up in Pretoria. He played guitar in bands like Lastique, Backtrax, Syndicate and Graffiti before starting TRS (The Recording Studio) with Chris Ghelakis in downtown Johannesburg in the late 80s. The company evolved into a label, CSR (Creative Sound Recordings), and would eventually become Electromode. The following is a telephone interview done on January 15 2025 ahead of the release of J.E. Movement's Ma Dea Luv (AFS057) on Afrosynth Records. It has been edited for clarity

[How did you get started in music and then production?]

I grew up in Pretoria. I was part of the pop scene, delving into progressive jazz. I was actually a guitarist, playing in a lot of great bands, I played in Lastique, Backtrax, Syndicate at Plum Crazy. I played in some amazing bands. But probably the most amazing band I played in was a band called GRAFFITI. I don’t know if you remember a band called RABBITT … when Trevor Rabin decided to go and join Yes in America, and Duncan Faure left to go and join the Bay City Rollers, the drummer from that band, Neil Cloud, decided to come and play in a band called Graffiti that was put together by Cedric Samson, a very good friend of that whole band. I was playing in a band at the time, and they asked me to join as well, so I played with Neil Cloud briefly. So I came from that background, from playing in clubs and doing pop music.

And then my friendship with CHRIS [GHELAKIS] goes back to like 1965, when I came from Greece. So I was always friends with Chris. Chris and me were always buddies. 

Slowly this cover band scene started dying out. I was playing with Chris, I played in a couple of bands. Post-Graffiti I joined a couple of other bands – RAGDOLLS, BACKTRAX, LASTIQUE, to name a few. And then I landed up playing with Chris. Even though I was very good friends with him, we didn’t play together until about 1983/4 – I joined SYNDICATE, his guitarist went to America and I joined. And that is where the idea to start a recording studio started. Because I could see that the club scene – the residency, where you could get a club job working for like 3 months working non-stop — started dying out. The discos were taking over. People just wanted to go and dance. 

I bought a little four-track, I remember, the Fostex four-track, from TOMS music shop, I just started recording. I went to Chris and I said, ‘Listen, I’ve got all these guys coming and asking me to do demos – at my house – it’s causing a problem with my girlfriend. I want to find some premises, I want to start a recording studio, but I know nothing about leases.’ And I didn’t have money – I mean, I used to play in a band with him earning R750 a month. And the lease was R1000 a month – which is peanuts [now] but back in the day [it was a lot]. So that’s where it started. He [Chris] was a little bit more business-savvy, and he said, ‘Look, we’ll get involved together. I’lI come into the studio with you.’

We started recording all these white bands, because I hadn’t got into the undercover kwaito scene which was starting to take off then. I hadn’t even touched that stuff. But because of my background, of the jazzy thing, I’d heard a lot of RnB from the States. I used to listen to Frankie Valli, Stevie Wonder, Temptations, Commodores, all those bands. So I was very familiar with that kind of style… And what happened is: when the studio started, eventually we started getting a couple of these guys that were into like reggae and people who wanted to do RnB and stuff. They wanted to come in, and I started getting into that. And then I saw that there’s a very big market for the black stuff that was happening. Because we’re in Africa. There was not a market really for the white music. The white music was for clubs, for playing in clubs to the white crowds, at the time. Because it was apartheid, you understand, there were no blacks in the clubs at that time, it was 1983/84, before elections [in 1994]. But I’d  worked [with black artists before] … In Lastique we had RONNIE JOYCE, who passed away [in 2013]. He was a friend with JONATHAN BUTLER, who I knew very well, by the way, from Cape Town.

Chris Ghelakis (RIP)

So we got involved in that whole thing, and we started getting all these bands coming in. That’s how we started delving into the black stuff. And we had a lot of success. Because at the time there was no internet… You couldn’t really have quick access to the hits that were happening overseas. But we were friends with a couple of people that used to live in London and in America and so on, and they used to tell us what was happening [there], and we started doing some cover versions. I remember one of our biggest things was BLACK BOX. We did it legally, we got licensing for publishing, songwriting, etc. It used to take a long time [because it was before the internet] …  We used to get info from overseas about what covers are happening. And we started doing  it – legally – and distributing legally, paying licensing fees to the publishers – and we started releasing these covers, and it took off. 

But we quickly realised that there’s a very big difference between having a hit when you’re doing a cover of someone’s song — because you don’t own that product, you don’t own the copyright; all you own is the master — so we wanted to start doing original stuff. We realised if we wanted to have any kind of lasting success, we needed to have original artists that we can promote and have hits with. And that’s how we got involved with doing all these bands. And even though we didn’t sign them up, we got involved with record companies, like Transistor Music and — I can’t remember if EMI or any of the big companies gave us work initially, but there were all these small independents. There was a guy by the name of PHIL HOLLIS, who used to work with PAT SHANGE and he found CHICCO, he found YVONNE CHAKA CHAKA, he signed all these artists. And I actually got to meet all of them. I was very good friends with Chicco.

I started the studio with Chris, I think round about 1987. We were in Plein Street in town [downtown Johannesburg], on the 9^th floor, that’s where we started. 

The only really big hit that we had, that I can brag about was SIDNEY MOGOPODI – ‘Mama’s Baby’. That was the first thing that put us on the map. Because that was really a massive success. I remember the phone ringing off the hook. We used to sell like 10-20,000 units a week – I’m not bragging, I’m being serious. I think it was mid-price, I don’t think it was full price, but the volume was like huge, so the money just came rolling in. I mean Sidney became rich overnight. He bought cars, houses...

[How did J.E. Movement come about?]

We had this little studio up on the 9^th floor in Plein Street, and we used to work with all these bands that were given to us, to do productions, by DAVE PENHALE from Transistor, and a couple of other companies which I can’t remember. And J.E. MOVEMENT were one of those bands that came through the doors. And I got given them…

J.E. Movement was a band that was a concept of a guy by the name of Dave Penhale. He kind of put this whole thing together. In fact I’m not 100% sure but I’m 99% sure that he was instrumental in putting the whole thing together. Myself and Chris Ghelakis were just starting out a recording studio. That was the time when that whole thing kind of took shape. J.E. Movement were given to us, and I produced them. I worked with them, and I became very good friends with JAMES NYINGWA. I was very very good friends with him. 

Once I met James, and saw how talented he is, we gave him a job at the studio, as a songwriter/producer. Because I realized quickly that even though I’m into that whole kind of music, we need input from a guy that’s hands on, that’s grown up in a township, that understands the culture and what people actually want. So I hooked up with him, like immediately. I was very technical-savvy, and he was like a really talented songwriter. And we became really close, we became friends. And then once we had one or two albums, nothing really took off massive… 

James was the catalyst, and he wrote most of the stuff, but I was a better player than him, so a Iot of the stuff that you’re hearing was actually played by me. A lot of the keys and a lot of the basslines. But he used to tell me what he wants.

photo: www.muzines.co.uk

Do you know what automation is, in music software? Automation is basically if you want to change something in real time, while it’s playing back, either the filter or the volume or something. Automation was a very new thing at the time. And we were working on a thing called the ROLAND MC-500. It was like a little box, a very basic, pre-computer sort of dedicated sequencer. We were on that, and we discovered that you can do some very primitive basic automation. And while we were playing, I was like playing with the filter on something, I was adjusting the filter, so it was making the thing go from dull to bright. I mean today it’s a joke, it’s elementary, but at that time it was a revelation. And James freaked out. His eyes lit up and he was freaking out! We were like jumping around in the studio, and like ‘hey, we’re going to do it!’. You know when you’re young and you’ve got all these dreams about success and what you can do …

That MC-500 was James’s favourite thing. He wanted to like sleep with it, basically.. That’s how much he was in love with the MC-500. What it did was it allowed people to not be technically proficient but make it sound like they’re the best musicians in the world, because it puts everything in time, it puts everything in tune. We’re talking about sequencing now. 

The other guy’s name was ELLIOT [FAKU]. It was James and Elliot – J.E. Movement …  Can I tell you what Elliot’s role in the band was? He was the muse. He was like the feedback monitor. He used to sit [and listen]... 

This is how it worked: we’d go into the studio, and I’m like the engineer, but I’m also a musician… I used to basically play everything. James also used to play some basslines, but I used to play a lot of the keys. I don’t know if I’ve been credited on all the records, but we weren’t into that – that whole money thing wasn’t important at the time. What was important was having fun and creating music. It wasn’t ‘hey, I wrote this’ or ‘hey, I wrote that’. There was none of that shit. 

[Was there a political impulse in collaboration?]

Not at all. I’m colourblind. I judge people on merit and on who they are as individuals. I’ve always been like that, and I’ll stay like that. I didn’t even think about that, now that you mention it. 

You have to judge people people on merit and individuality, on how they behave. You cannot judge on anything else. Someone could come from outer space, you have to judge them on how they behave. That is what the world should be, but it doesn’t work like that.

[What happened to James?]

This is actually what happened. We were finishing a recording in the studio, I can’t remember the exact date and time, but it was around about 4 or 5 o’clock, and it was my late girlfriend – she passed away – it was my girlfriend’s birthday, and I invited him to come and celebrate with us at my flat. I was living in Hillbrow at the time. Chris was there, a whole lot of people were there. 

On his way he stopped at a shop to buy some cooldrink, and there was a robbery in progress, and the robber mistook him for either police or undercover [agents], and they stabbed him in his neck. It’s terrible, I’ll never forget it … They took him to Hillbrow Hospital. I was at my apartment and we got a phone call that ‘there’s a guy by the name of James at Hillbrow Hospital, and he’s asking for Chris and George’. We went to the hospital, and we were allowed to see him. He actually passed away in Chris’s arms. Chris was actually holding him, we were both crying. he was holding him, and James was saying, ‘please can you help me’ — and we couldn’t do anything. 

The guys tried to stop the bleeding, but he’d just lost too much blood … The doctors did their best to save him. But the problem was the stab I think it was in his jugular, it was in one of his main arteries or veins in his neck … and it was a very deep wound, and the blood, they just couldn’t stop it. They tried to stop it, but he’d already lost too much. They tried to do a transfusion but it was already too late.

Listen, I was very close to James. He was an amazing guy, super-talented guy. Myself and Chris were in tears. I was really friendly with James. He was a buddy, like a close buddy. I was very close with them. 

It was one of the first projects that launched the studio that I’m currently working in. 

Another thing is Chris actually passed away last year [2023], so we’re getting old…

© 2025 Afrosynth

Ma Dea Luv (AFS057) will be out in mid-2025 on Afrosynth Records. Pre-order it here.

J.E. MOVEMENT - Ma Dea Luv

AFS057

Towards the end of the 1980s South Africa's recording industry was booming like never before. Searching for a sound that could cross over to all in the country's segregated society while also eyeing international success, a new duo emerged that laid waste to competition and quickly had its 'bubblegum' predecessors sounding obsolete. Drawing on new international trends and crafting lyrics for local ears, J.E. MOVEMENT — a duo made up of James Nyingwa and Elliot Faku — exploded onto the local scene with their debut album 'Ma Dea Luv'. The future had arrived.

A talented bassist and composer, Nyingwa was at the time employed as an in-house producer at TRS Studios in Plein Street in downtown Johannesburg, run by two Greek immigrants, George Vardas and Chris Ghelakis, and had played a hand in popular acts like the NEW AGE KIDS and SIDNEY. Together the four formed a close bond as friends and musical partners on what would become CSR Records, savouring recording original hits while also cashing in on cover versions as BLACK BOX.

Six tracks on the groundbreaking 1988 album give firm nods to UK Street Soul, US New Jack Swing and Stock Aitken Waterman's 'Hit Factory' sound and infuse them with an African rhythmic flair and homegrown lyrical sentiment. Though not expressly political, the title track was received by many as a play on words referencing then-jailed and banned Nelson Mandela (coming after similarly styled 'I'm Winning My Dear Love' by YVONNE CHAKA CHAKA in 1986 and 'We Miss You Manelow' by CHICCO in 1987), giving it an added potency for those in the know. 'Jack I'm Sorry' was a minor hit in the townships, while 'Marco', 'Friends', 'Funkytown' and the eponymous closer are similarly bass and drum-driven, with hiphop-styled vocals.

Key to the new sound was new gear. Producer Vardas remembers: "Automation was a very new thing at the time. We were working on a thing called the Roland MC500, a very basic, pre-computer sort of dedicated sequencer. We discovered that you can do some very primitive basic automation, and I was playing with the filter on something, making the thing go from dull to bright. Today it’s elementary, but at that time it was a revelation. James freaked out. His eyes lit up and he was freaking out. We were like jumping around in the studio.. You know when you’re young and you’ve got all these dreams about success and what you can do … That MC500 was James’s favourite thing. He wanted to like sleep with it, basically. That’s how much he was in love with the MC500!"

Dave Penhale, head of DPMC who released the New Age Kids, remembers: "James had paid his dues and he had extra time to spend in the studio. So with all guys [talented musicians], they are trying to create new stuff. They would never want to copy or to follow a trend, they were actually pushing the boundaries and setting the trend ... It moved very far away from the bubblegum kind of sound that was dominating at that time. I suppose, with all the synths and all that kind of stuff, it was almost like EDM ... it’s relevant."

J.E. Movement followed Ma Dea Luv with Bad Girls in 1989 before Nyingwa was tragically stabbed to death in 1990 on his way one night from the studio to a nearby party in Hillbrow, downtown Johannesburg, cut down while still in his 20s, his killer never brought to justice. A third, posthumous album, Guilty was released in 1990.

Afrosynth Records is proud to release J.E. Movement's groundbreaking Ma Dea Luv, reissued for the first time, out in mid-2025 on vinyl and digital platforms. Pre-order it now via Rush Hour.

VA - Music Team Sampler

AFS045

One of South Africa’s biggest independent labels for decades, the Music Team catalogue spanned all genres and markets in the country’s rich and varied industry. When it came to the disco sound popular in the late 80s and early 90s, artists in the stable had access to top studios, musicians and producers with an ear on the latest trends, as well as distribution via a number of Music Team imprints - CTV, Red Label, Spinna, Mambo Music, Solid and others. Run by Maurice Horwitz, Music Team gave talented working musicians a shot at stardom. Those who tasted success would typically release a few albums over as many years before moving on either to other labels or falling off the radar as times changed. 

Compiled here then are six tracks from the Music Team catalogue, originally released in South Africa between 1986 and 1992. Three are by popular male crooners — Isaac ‘Cool Cat’ Mofokeng (‘Candy’), Linda Olifant (‘I Won’t Let You Go’) and Jappie Lebona (‘My Love is Yours) — and are typical of the label’s take on the ‘bubblegum’ sound of the day, along with a slower groove by female singer Thandi Zulu (aka TZ Junior), ‘Instant Love (Eyami Lendoda)’. Two instrumentals — Mr. Ace’s ‘Ace 1’ and ‘Axe Chop’ by The Hard Workers, a popular studio project by Music Team’s in-house producer Tom Mkhize — meanwhile hint at the imminent rise of house and kwaito. All were forged in the fire of a cruel and volatile political system that was quickly unravelling — but instead of addressing the political realities of the day sought to provide listeners with an escape to a world where love and music were all that mattered.

Compiled with DJs and dancefloors in mind, Afrosynth Records’ Music Team Sampler dusts off some rare and long-forgotten gems and makes them available for a new audience.

SIDE A

A1: Isaac ‘Cool Cat’ Mofokeng - 'Candy'

Isaac Mofokeng started his recording career in the 1970s on Mavuthela’s Soul Jazz Pop imprint, backed by The Ribbons. Switching from Sesotho to English to reach a wider audience, he signed to Atlantic and in 1979 released two albums with The Sakie Special Band: Cool Cat, the album and single that would later become his stage name, and Take Me Back. As the 80s dawned he stepped out as a solo performer, releasing a third album on Atlantic, I’m In Love With You (1981). In 1985 he released a single, ’Midnight Groove’, as Isaac ‘Madala’ Mofokeng on Kaya Records, then as ‘Cool Cat’ released the album Let Your Love Shine on Music Team’s Spinna imprint in 1987, produced by Tom Mkhize. It included the track ‘Candy’, a five-and-a-half minute disco workout which kicks off the upcoming Afrosynth Records release. 

A2: Mr. Ace - 'Ace 1'

Keyboardist Andry Mbuyisa, better known as ‘Ace’ or ‘Mambu’, had a long career in South Africa’s music industry starting in the 1970s with popular soul outfit The Additions. In the 1980s he made his mark with bubblegum group Freeway, part of the Dephon/Roy B. stable, releasing albums like Majita (1984), Keep On Trying and Stand up for your Rights. Graduating to production he was behind the desk for Linda ‘Babe’ Majika’s 1988 debut solo album, Don’t Treat Me So Bad (reissued by Be With in 2020), credited as A. Mambu, as well as It’s So Hard the following year. In 1991 he co-produced The Q-Force album Daddy Come Back on Krunch Records, also joining the Music Team stable to compose tracks for Ayobayo Band’s album Hey Ta Da. In 1992 he went into engineer Fred Woods’ studio to record a solo instrumental album, ‘Ace 1’, layering synths over uptempo drum machines to create a fresh proto-house sound with a distinctly South African flavour. ‘Ace 1’ is the second track on Afrosynth Records’ upcoming Music Team Sampler compilation.

A3: Linda - 'I Won’t Let You Go'  5:19 

The son of jazz trumpeter (and later kwaito pioneer) Dennis Mpale, Linda ‘Slim’ Olifant emerged in the 80s as part of Reborn, later known as Afubi (short for Afro Funk & Blues Investigation) alongside Sizwe Zako, releasing a string of popular 12” singles in 1983-85. In 1984 Olifant also added guest vocals to Duke Makasi’s Rise And Shine produced by Sipho Gumede. With Zako destined for bigger things (with Pure Magic and producing Rebecca Malope), Afubi parted ways, leaving Olifant to embark on a solo career at Music Team, starting with a four-track EP ‘Sweet Mbaqanga’ in 1985. It was followed in 1986 by I Won’t Let You Go, the title track co-written with Solly Letwaba (bassist for The Black Five and Savuka, among others) and producer Tom Mkhize. Another sleeper hit from the bubblegum archive, ‘I Won’t Let You Go’ is the third track on Afrosynth Records’ upcoming Music Team Sampler (AFS045).

SIDE B

B1: Jappie Lebona - 'My Love Is Yours' 

Brother of influential producer Koloi Lebona, the late Jappie Lebona (aka Japie or JP) was active in the 80s, primarily as a guitarist and producer for artists such as female duo Ecstasy, Special Cane Mahlelebe, Eric D, Lindie Fassie and Cokes. As a solo artist Jappie released at least two albums on Music Team’s Spinna imprint – 1984’s You’ve Got Me Running was recorded at RPM Studios in downtown Johannesburg using a full band of session musicians, but for 1986’s four-track EP Party Life he adopted a stripped-down approach in the studio, relying only on drum programming from engineer Phil Audoire and synths by Vusi ‘Buick’ Thwala (Step Ahead). Written and produced by Koloi, the standout track on the EP, ’My Love Is Yours’, is a moody chugger built on an earworm bass groove and a barrage of punchy synths, punctuated by Jappie’s unhurried vocals delivering memorable lines like: "I’ll treat you good and do the best I can. When I’m in the mood, I’m a loving man…" The track opens side B of Afrosynth Records’ upcoming Music Team Sampler.

B2: The Hard Workers - 'Axe Chop'

A popular South African studio project helmed by Tom Mkhize, the Hard Workers put out four albums on Music Team’s Red Label imprint between 1988 and 1990. Mkhize composed the songs (credited as Mphix), produced and arranged, typically alongside engineer David Moloele on drum programming and Sam Ndlovu on keyboards, with a revolving door of guest contributors. The Hard Workers’ sound evolved over time but stuck to a formula that worked: uptempo, largely instrumental dance music incorporating Shangaan disco and proto-house ‘pantsula’ influences, adding piercing synth hooks and occasional vocal or whistling samples, foreshadowing the imminent rise of kwaito. Taken from the 1988 album Ayoba-Yo, ’Axe Chop’ is a prime example of this pioneering sound that opened the door to the 90s and beyond — and is the fifth track on Afrosynth Record’s upcoming Music Team Sampler.

B3: Thandi - 'Instant Love (Eyami Lendoda)'

Like several other prominent female South African singers of the era, Thandi Zulu had her first break in the cast of a Gibson Kente musical: 1977’s Heartbreaker. In the mid-80s she released a string of singles, starting in 1984 with ‘Love Games’ on the Heads label (as Thandi Zulu & The Young Five). Moving with producer Peter Moticoe to the bigger Dephon/Roy B stable that was also home to Yvonne Chaka Chaka and Margino, she released ‘Move Me/Doctor Feelgood’ (as Thandi Zulu), then as TZ Junior she had a hit with ’Sugar My Love’ (reissued by Jamwax in 2018). Around this time she also recorded a single at Emcee Studio for the short-lived Racey Records, ‘Instant Love (Eyami Lendoda)’ – ultimately released in 1986 on Music Team’s Spinna imprint, this time simply as Thandi. A smouldering, synth-heavy showcase of her inimitable vocals, ‘Instant Love’ is the sixth and final track on Afrosynth Records’ Music Team Sampler (AFS045).

AfroSynth · AFS045 VA - Music Team Sampler

Order AFS045 now via Rush Hour.

Interview with DANNY BRIDGENS, producer of PT House

photo: viavetera.com

Producer Danilo 'Danny' Bridgens established himself in the 1980s as a session guitarist for the likes of Yvonne Chaka Chaka and Margino, also releasing as The Stone and Leroy Stone. By the early 90s he was experimenting in his studio with new house influences, including working with Nelson Phetole Mohale on PT House. The pair drew influence from US & UK hip-house contemporaries but were determined to give their sound a local flavour, as well as a positive vibe that looked forward to a brighter future as democracy dawned in South Africa. Bridgens currently lives in California, US. The following is a Zoom interview conducted on September 20 2023, it has been edited for clarity.

[How did you get into music and production?]

I grew up in Linmeyer, an area in the south of Johannesburg ... I started in garage bands and stuff like that. And in those days we all had to go to the army, so I went to the army. While I was in the army, it was the weirdest thing, I managed to wangle a transfer to the entertainment unit, where I met a lot of guys… and then as we left the army, there was a guy called Gary van Zyl, who was starting a band, and he was about 10 years older than me.. he’d had success in the club scene… I don’t know how they found out about me but he came to find me and Franco Del Mei, a drummer I played with, and Eric Bush (?), and we started a club band. That’s when I got into the professional thing.

Gary was the best guy to have as a leader of your first band, because he would kick your butt! We were gonna get ready for our first gig, and we gotta learn 40 songs or whatever, and boy, he would hand you the cassette, ‘know these songs by tomorrow’. You’d do your homework at night, and the next day, you’d know them. I still remember the first solo I took, I took a solo – I think it was on ‘Baker Street’ – it was one of those songs… and he stopped the band and he said to me, ‘What the hell was that?’ And I said, ‘It’s my solo’. And he said, ‘Don’t play crap, man’! He’d crack the whip! And it was professional. We started at 10, we had lunch, and we had tea. It was so pro, it was the best education into the professional world I could have. I’m still grateful for that, to this day, because he just whipped me into shape.

So I was doing clubs, the usual club thing, I played in PE, Durban, the usual thing. But I got married, and while we had our first baby, we could still travel. But when my wife fell pregnant with our second baby, we knew we couldn’t stay on the road, so that’s when I looked for opportunities to try and get into the studio, by becoming a session player. And that took a while, it took almost a year to get the first call, before I could even get in. And then it slowly progressed from there. I was a session player for quite a few years. But I really wanted to be a producer-writer guy. That’s really what I wanted to be. Once I discovered that studio world, it was like, ‘Playing is great, but there’s so many good players.’ So I really wanted to get into writing and producing.

We had a little band in the army, because you know we were the entertainment unit, we were playing all over … and a friend of mine, the keyboard player in our band, wrote this song.. and I thought the music was great but the lyric wasn’t so great, and whatever. I couldn’t remember what it was. But we wrong this song, and we started playing the song live. And I don’t know if you remember a guy called Richard Loring, back then we was like a cabaret kind of guy. We played this song, and he would hire us to back him up on different gigs. And he said ‘man, I really like that song, can I record it?’ And so he put it on an album of his. Zane Cronje was the producer at the time, and he invited my friend Craig, who’d written the song, to the studio on the day they recorded. And the thing about it for me was, they were playing the song and I realized that because I’d done the music, they were playing a wrong chord in the one part. So I went to the producers, when they were playing, and said ‘this chord’s wrong, it should be this and not that’. So he said, ‘Just go quickly into the studio and tell the okes to change that chord, while I carry on doing some stuff here.’ 

I went in there, and they were all my heroes, playing in the studio. All the guys that I was going to watch, they were all in the studio. And I said to them, ‘by the way, that chord..’ So they all went, ‘ja, sure, we’ll change the chord’. 

I realised when I was standing outside that door at that moment that I was nobody, but because I’d written the song, they had to listen to what I had to say … and so the power and influence of the writer/producer just hit me like a ton of bricks that day. So once I got into studio, that’s what I wanted to be. I wanted to be in that writing/producing role., so that I could have that influence, so I could be part of that.

***

Fast-forward, my wife and I went overseas to America in 1980 for one year. We were gone for about 18 months. And then I came back. And you know, when you live in America, all you hear is American music. It’s amazing, but it’s all you hear. And of course I’d grown up with rock n roll and all that stuff, the usual – the Beatles and all that. But when I cam back, I ran into my friend Gary van Zyl again, the guy who was playing bass (in the army band). And he was playing bass with JULUKA — Johnny Clegg and Sipho Mchunu. He said, ‘We’re playing this gig, man, you must come and watch it.’

And I went, and it blew me away. African music, and in particular South African music, that blew me away. It’s like from that day on, nothing else mattered … The realisation of the power of that, especially when you’ve been so inundated for the longest time by all forms of American music. And you hear that. For me — I guess not everybody responds to it that way — it blew me away. That’s all I wanted to do. I sat down and started trying to play Zulu guitar, trying to do all of that. 

***

I had a band called TAXI … Taxi was my first attempt at getting into that space. But I couldn’t be an imitator; I had to kind of go in the way I knew how to go in, at least. Attie (van Wyk) produced our first album. And our first gigs were all like in shebeens in Katlehong township and places like that … and eventually we were playing all those things – we were playing Soweto and Alexandra, we were playing Thembisa.. New Brighton in PE. That was all that we were doing. It was among the best experiences of my life, just playing. 

And it was really weird, you know. I still remember in Ga-Rankuwa, we were playing there at the University in Bophuthatswana, and in this sort of sea of black South Africans, and us four were the only little white guys in the whole place — and loving every moment of it. And even in those dangerous days — because they were dangerous days, in the 80s — they looked after us. I remember we were playing a club in Thembisa, and we were doing well. But some of the guys in the crowd came to us and said, ‘listen, the bad types have just showed up here. We think you should go’. So we packed up our gear and left. So they looked after us and they kind of took care of us, while we were playing the music. 

***

Eventually, as part of that whole progression, I ended up starting a little studio. I started at a little studio in Joburg from a guy called Adrian Strydom. He had this whole studio and it had a little room at the bottom, he was subletting that studio. 

I started a little demo studio so that guys would come in and record their demos. And that’s how I learnt to record. I learnt how to actually work the desk and do all the stuff. I was programming, all that stuff. I called it Kitchen Sync. Because the very first demos I did were in my kitchen… that’s how I came up with the name. The first year, I took over the breakfast nook in a kitchen. I took all the furniture out and put some gear there.

And it was actually after that, the progression was out of Taxi and that, then working in studio, then eventually I started my own thing. So all my original demos there in the kitchen was stuff I was doing with Taxi. 

Then I ended up moving to something a little bit more professional. The studio was called Syntrax. He gave me the opportunity. He said ‘look, I'm looking to rent this space’. So I took the chance and I moved my gear in there.

I started to do demos. And I particularly wanted to be involved in South African black music. I wasn’t into the rock and roll thing, or anything like that… I started to slowly make connections with different record companies

[You worked at Dephon with big names like Yvonne Chaka Chaka and Margino, what was that like?]

I was on YVONNE'S first track, ‘I’m in Love with a DJ’ – I’m the voice of the DJ.. I pretend to be this DJ: ‘I’m Leroy Stone…’ So I thought maybe we could use that character (for a solo album). And it actually did well. I remember doing a tour of Zimbabwe with Yvonne, I played with her and we did a tour of different parts of South Africa… I would do Taxi. She was always the headliner.  And then for those songs, she’d call me up and it was always this big shock that it was me who was the voice! For a while we were MARGINO's backing band. It was all coming out of that record company, Dephon. Attie was working for them, and Yvonne was signed to them, Taxi – they were distributing our stuff. So it was that connection. And Margino, Attie van Wyk had been producing her. So when she starting going live, for a while we were her backing band. So we’d back her, then we’d do our set.

The Stone - Guilty (1985)

We were very fortunate — I know we got in the top 10 a few times, two or three times maybe. And she [Margino] was big for a period of time. But Yvonne was just the queen of it all. She came into that scene and she took off like a bullet. To this day, she’s like that… all over Africa, not only South Africa. 

I was at least in the periphery. Because I think Attie produced that album. And they just needed someone to do that voice, you know. And at the time, one of the things I was doing was voiceovers. Because living in South Africa, you’ve got to do a whole lot of things if you want to make a living [from music]. So I was doing voiceovers, and because I’d lived in America I had a passable American accent — although when I listen back to it now, I think tjerrrr… terrible.. but ja —so Attie knew that I was doing that, and he said ‘listen, we need somebody to do this thing’. So I made that all up.. that part wasn’t written for me… he just said ‘we just need like a DJ kind of thing… So I came up with all that, Leroy Stone, just in the studio, we kind of did it there.

[Were you learning production from Attie at that time, like Chicco said he did?]

I was a beginner producer at that point. So by being in the studio with guys like that, that’s how you learn. You picked up, you started to learn how to do it. You started to learn about the engineers, and you learned how to do that. And I was always curious about that, so I used to ask a lot of questions, and I used to really pay attention. I used to love being in the studio, I really did. Because I’m an introvert, so the studio feels safe and small, as opposed to the stage. So I used to love being in the studio. And I loved everything about it. I loved the vibe of it, and I loved the collaboration and the interaction, love ‘how do we get that sound? How do we get the kick drum to sound like that?’ … 

And my session days helped me a lot with that… because what would happen is we would do the session, and a lot of the musicians would leave after they’d played, but I’d go hang out in the studio to listen, because I really wanted to know, I wanted to watch the guys working and doing their stuff.. and that’s how I learnt...

So Attie, certainly, I learnt a lot from him. Especially I loved the way he ran his sessions.. everything was really relaxed, but professional.. ‘OK, we’re moving on to this next thing’.. stuff like that. He was one of the guys I learnt from, among others.

[Were politics front of mind in studio, or not so much?]

Look, it was impossible to live in South Africa at the time and not be aware of what was happening… Especially, once again, being out of South Africa, and you come back and suddenly everything looks really stark, the way it is. But you kind of feel helpless, you know, like what can I do? What can’t I do? And I fell in love with South African music. For me, it was a natural progression to get to know guys and to do music together… For me it wasn’t a political statement; it was like, I’m meeting these guys, we’re having such a good time..

I remember doing a bunch of recordings of traditional music, like traditional Zulu guitar, and Sotho musicians, and stuff like that. And just the vibe of that, just being connected to all of that was amazing. And the conversations. 

I remember being on a plane once, going to Mozambique, I was filling in for PJ POWERS’ band, I was playing guitar in her band, and we flew on a little private plane, with Sipho Mchunu’s band. So it was just us, PJ’s band and Sipho’s band. I’d been listening diligently to a lot of this stuff [traditional Zulu guitar music] and he was one of my heroes, you know. So I couldn’t believe I was on the plane with him. When you listen to Zulu music, a lot of Zulu music, there’s like an intro that doesn’t seem like it’s got anything to do with the song, it’s like a little thing [of it’s own]… So I remember going to Sipho and saying ‘excuse me, mr Mchunu, I’ve always wanted to ask you this question – what is that about? How does that work?’ And he just laughed, and he said to me, ‘Listen, all I’m doing is I’m saying I’m beginning here, now you must get in. Now you must get in, I’m just letting you know we’re going to play, and now you must get in’… So it wasn’t like a heavily rehearsed thing, it’s like a setup, and then he’d give the nod and the band would come in.

So it was always unbelievable. I learnt a lot from his records, the Juluka records. And because I was recording like Zulu guitarists and Sotho [musicians], the influence was huge. I couldn’t get enough of it, understanding how that all worked together … because that stuff had a certain way of working together. Whereas a lot of things in sort of pop music are ultra tight, there’s a looseness in that music that without it, it’s not alive, it’s not living. So it’s just awesome.

Now, the only political music I did was — I was and still am a Christian guy — there was a bunch of guys who invited me to a kind of collective called FRIENDS FIRST, in Durban. And that was squarely aimed at making a political statement. It was a multiracial band. We had guys – one of my best friends to this day is Victor Masondo – a producer and writer and killer bass player. And so, that band was created specifically to make a statement… And actually the band was on the radio. We toured heavily, all over, all the townships.

[How did PT House with Nelson Mohale come about?]

So I’d already started doing some little projects for Maurice [Horwitz of Music Team]. And there were some projects where guys came to me to do demos. And if I thought they had something, I would go to somebody like Maurice and say, ‘Hey, I think this guy’s got something’. And they would listen and decide whether they wanna release it or not. I can’t remember if that’s what happened with Nelson, or if they sent him to me. I can’t remember how we met, but we did meet in my studio. The first time we met was in my studio.

 

He had this idea for PT House. To this day, I still don’t know why it’s called PT House! I was just listening to the tracks in preparation for us being together, and I thought, but why was it called PT House? My job was to try and capture what he was thinking, this kind of sound, and then to try and create something that leaned South African. Because he was a rapper, right. So he’s rapping – and actually one thing I really remember was that he was [initially] rapping all in English. And I said to him, ‘Dude, you must actually do some stuff [that shows] where you’re from, man.’ And so he started to throw in what eventually kind of became a kind of street pidgin, where he was mixing up English and Sotho, where he was mixing up that kind of Soweto slang, and things like that. And I think that made it really unique. 

I loved the fact that I felt like we were doing something a little new, because there weren’t a lot of rappers around then. I loved it because I thought we were kind of doing something that’s a known thing, the rap genre, and we were leaning it [to SA]. So that was kind of the challenge for me, to kind of create a musical setting for his rap ideas, and then move them into [SA]. Sometime he’d have an idea for a bassline, but I could never tell you who thought of what, because we worked so intricately together. 

I know that probably my biggest influence was just like in a lot of the bridges of the songs, Felicia Marion on some of the tracks, and when you get to the female vocal, like in between the verses and stuff, you’ll hear that female vocal … those tended to be part of my contribution to kind of break the song up, so that it had these sung parts that created a particular atmosphere. 

And then of course I kind of programmed everything. I literally wrote all the keyboard lines, the basslines, the drums, everything. I kind of came up with the majority of that. But sometimes he’d say, ‘Wait, I want something that feels like this’, and he’d play me something from a cassette. And I’d kind of take that and we’d adapt what we were doing to make it African.

(Was Mohale learning about production?)

For sure. I’m pretty sure that was his first – if not the first, one of his first studio experiences.

[He was younger than you, right?] Ja, about 10 years younger, at least.

[How was ‘Big World’ received when it was released?]

I’m not sure what happened with that. I did the first two albums.. I did Big World and Big City Taste. Actually, I like Big City Taste (more)… of the two albums, that’s the one I prefer… I think they’re both great, don’t get me wrong … If I listen back, it’s very 90s — you can hear the sounds – the sounds were very hip in the 90s..

I’m proud of what we did. If I had to do it now, would it be exactly the same? The sounds would be different, whatever. But if I listen back to it now, I think that’s good work. I think we did good work, between him and I. there’s something to be proud of. There’s always room for improvement. But when you listen back with the perspective of what that was — you can’t have today’s ears and say, compared to… — you have to say, at that time, what was that like, at that time? And I think it had a space of its own, I think it was unique.

It got some play… [but] I think it was his third album, when we changed to Dr House… I think the first two kind of knocked the door open, and then the third one was the one that kind of took it bigger. So I’m happy to have been the guy to be part of the beginning of that journey.

© 2023 Afrosynth

Big World (AFS056) will be out in early 2024, reissued by Afrosynth Records. Pre-order it here.