The Sabbath crosses musical boundaries, and with its beauty seeks to confront the ugliness of daily living, says its creator
The award-winning South African jazz vocalist, composer and Wits music school educator Gabi Motuba recently released a powerful new album The Sabbath.
Drawing inspiration from classical, jazz, African and Eastern influences it was described by respected critic Gwen Ansell as “a powerful work of sonic theology, expounded through music”.
Motuba dedicated the project to her father Rufus who died of Covid during the pandemic — with its profound lamentations The Sabbath is deeply meditative, but also healing and uplifting.
It is expected that Motuba will break through globally with this exceptional album.
We spoke to her about it.
When did you know you would dedicate your life to music?
I have really loved music for as long as I can remember. I knew around the ages of between nine and 10 years old — and my parents found out when I was 16 — that I had serious plans of being a musician.
I knew because I already could sing really well from a very early age, and I was already entering singing competitions in primary school (Arcadia Primary in Pretoria).
I also qualified to enter the senior choir while I was a junior at primary school and I was already composing my own songs with my friends and my two cousins — Rakgadi Betty Moloantoa and Thabang Mkhari — at home.
During my pre-primary days, I attended the after-school cultural programmes at the State Theatre and, when I entered first grade, I took up the recorder as an instrument of choice.
Why has it been a wise decision?
Music has changed the trajectory of my life. Being a young black girl from the township of Mamelodi, I sometimes pinch myself that I am able to practise my art as a profession and survive doing so.
I’m able to pay my bills, connect with people around the world through collaboration, travel, learn and experience different cultures solely because of my music!
This is remarkable. I don’t take this for granted because I know that many people would have wanted to do what they love for a living and sometimes, the way our lives are set up, some of us never get the opportunity to actualise this desire.
And any chance that you change career paths?
There was a time the music was getting a bit challenging, and I thought that I could become a dentist. LOL, crazy right!? I’m glad I didn’t pursue that; I would have regretted it.
What is the best part of being a musician?
I appreciate being able to see my thoughts come to life. Having a melody I have been working on, and putting in the time to arrange around that melody, and building on it conceptually, is difficult and laboursome.
There is such a joy in being able to hear it played live by real musicians who can interpret and expand on it.
That is really something else because you think to yourself, ‘This melodic idea started out in the shower and now it’s this fully fledged orchestral work. That is so amazing!’
The other kick I get from being a musician is the ability to add one’s frequency into the atmosphere. I really believe my voice is somewhat of a superpower — I believe that it can influence the atmosphere through my unique sonic interventions and intention.
So, for example, when I’m performing live at a historical site, I think about the histories of that space, and the people who occupied that space, and I intentionally vocalise to alchemise, confront or transform those existing sonic frequencies.
And the worst part?
Artists in this county are unfortunately not respected and this plays itself out in so many ways.
A lot of the meaningful cultural interventions that could possibly influence the lives of many artists in a positive way are riddled with corrupt individuals, disorganisation, bias or ignorance.
It’s very difficult to work in such environments or to advance one’s career in a consistent way. Artists are always up against impossible conditions that they need to overcome to practise their art with dignity.
How does it feel when you hear your exquisite voice?
Honestly, I am also in awe of my voice and sound. I never would have imagined that it could grow to such an extent.
Are you a classical, jazz or experimental musician?
I am all of it and I am none of it.
My sound is an embodiment of my upbringing. Growing up in a township like Mamelodi, where all languages collapsed and created something else, but still retaining some of the remnants of the original language, was how I learned how to be, and I could see this principle also extending itself into my music.
I didn’t like the confines of practising music in a very traditional kind of way because that was never comfortable for me. I like the freedom of bobbing and weaving between genres and sounds and textures and borrowing from faraway places and adding my own flare to it.
This is what has always excited me about the prospect of being a creative — that I can always do it my way.
How do you compose music?
I compose music by way of scoring. I write out melodies note for note and use the music software Sibelius to develop my compositions and scores.
I would come up with a melody, and write it out, thereafter I would transfer it onto Sibelius and begin arranging the parts and adding to it and expanding on the melody.
I try to write in all the parts of all the different instruments using this software, to come as close as possible to the live representation of the song.
I learnt this while transcribing classical and film scores like Bumblebee, Harry Potter and The Prince of Egypt. I liked the way the scores to these compositions came as close as possible to the actual live sound — adding even the percussive sounds.
This is not the usual practice of a jazz composer because all we really need is a lead sheet and we try not to be too pedantic with writing out the parts of certain instruments.
However, I benefited more from this practice because I was working with string instruments and classically trained musicians who preferred to have as much of their parts written out as possible.
I have since then adopted this way of composing and have enjoyed it a lot. It takes a lot more time but it allows me to really analyse my music and develop it in a very detailed way.
This way of composing is quite enriching for me and allows me to always develop my sound and challenge myself when it comes to composition.
Do you have enough time to compose with you teaching and performing as well?
I love to teach! Teaching is how I learn and how I solidify sonic theoretical concepts that I want to explore in my music. It also helps my students learn a bit better because I don’t follow the traditional curriculum.
I try to push my students. I’m seen as the rebel vocal teacher at Wits — lol — and I kind of like that.
The music teachers I admired growing up were also considered divergent, so I think it’s a good trajectory to follow.
I love to perform! This is my true passion. I get energised from performing the songs I’ve written and finding creative and innovative ways to interpret the music live. I love this part of music-making.
What’s the weirdest place or situation you’ve found inspiration for a song or a piece of music?
I love to compose and explore melodies in the shower. Music and sound really do carry well in the bathroom for some odd reason.
The media release with your new album says: “The Sabbath holds a special place in Motuba’s heart, as it reflects her personal experience with grief. During the pandemic, her beloved father lost his battle against Covid-19, an event that deeply impacted her life.” How do you think your dad would have felt about The Sabbath?
My father would have played this music on repeat! He had the capacity to really delve into a body of work when he felt moved by it.
My dad loved the music of artists like Sade, Sting, Boyz II Men and Abdullah Ibrahim. He considered their music to be really spiritual and it made a great impression on my musical taste as a kid.
These artists always made sure their music sounded sincere. This is what I always try to maintain when composing my music.
It also states that the album “embodies the emotions of loss, healing and grief”. To what extent has it helped with healing?
It has helped my grieving process tremendously. I don’t know what I would have done if it weren’t for my ability to communicate my emotions through composition and sound.
I see music as an extension of my communication tools. Where language ends, music begins for me. It goes to places I do not yet have the language for.
Grief, as you know, affects one in a very fundamental way. Losing someone close to you is not an experience that is easily consolable, so music was one of the tools that allowed me to transform my emotions of grief into something generative.
How do you feel when you listen to or perform The Sabbath?
I feel very blessed to have written such a work. I’m always extremely proud to present this body of work to a new audience.
I hope that it can travel the globe and reach many people.
What message do you send to the listener with the album?
The Sabbath seeks to confront the truth. When writing it, I wanted to get down to the core of certain belief systems to better understand what we — collectively — are up against when thinking about our violent histories.
Loss seems to permeate our everyday life and I wanted to bring focus to that feeling. To expose it and to leave it bare.
I heard a beautiful quote which said, “It seems that the only way one can deal with terror is through the door of beauty”.
The capacity to confront the ugly truth is only possible when we present it through works of beauty. This is what I am ultimately trying to bring to the listener — to facilitate that one can confront the terrible truth.
The Sabbath reminds me of the best in spiritual jazz, a genre enjoyed by people from all sorts of religious traditions. But does one have to be religious to fully appreciate your album?
No. That is the gift and beauty of spiritual jazz. This is the feeling of listening to [John] Coltane’s A Love Supreme.
Even if you are not a religious individual, the songs seem to demand a lot more from the listener than the surface-level musical engagement. It demands one becomes open to the idea that we are more than our flesh.
It demands that we connect to deeper parts of ourselves that we much rather neglect. Projects like The Sabbath facilitate a deeper listening experience.
It is an album with such emotional depth — does it make you feel vulnerable or exposed now it is out there in the world?
Yes, writing this project was confronting my anxieties around vulnerability but I made a promise to myself that, no matter how uncomfortable it became, I would not stray from the pursuit of presenting the most honest offering possible.
I made an oath that, come what may, I was going to stick to it, regardless of my feelings or any outside pressures.
How are your students responding to The Sabbath?
They were actually among the first to hear the single The Law of First Mention. It became part of their South African composition repertoire for this year and they loved it.
I loved their interpretation of the song for their finals.
When you go on stage, what do you hope people will take away from your shows?
I honestly want to create an audience that demands more from music and from musicians and artists.
I always try to push myself artistically and to curate shows that allow artists to expand and grow with each performance and I want the audience to see this and to value this especially from the artists who perform this way.
My performances vary from show to show. They respond to the needs of that moment, and they always present another layer to the music.
So, I rely a lot on the listening capacity of the audience, especially those who are familiar with the music and with previous live performances. They can see and attest to the varied iterations of the same music and this becomes a point of discussion especially after the shows.
They would come up to me and say, “Wow, today’s interpretation took me to a whole other place! I love the way you introduced this sound to the ensemble or the way you isolated the strings for this concert …” and so on.
I love these kinds of discussions after my shows. They show that the audience’s listening capacity is growing and developing with the music.
What are your get-ready rituals before a show?
I usually take about 30 minutes to warm up my voice then I pray and go over the music with the band. I like to make sure I am relaxed and not too distracted.
I meditate on surrendering and letting go of all expectations. I reassure myself that I have done my best thus far to prepare and now it is all up to the music. In this way I avoid being stressed.
Nerves don’t help me much — and they don’t help the voice either — so I really work hard to stay as cool and relaxed as possible.
What’s the most memorable fan encounter you’ve had during a performance?
Well, I don’t know about “fans” in the jazz world, LOL … but people have come up and really expressed their deepest appreciation for my music and shared touching stories about how my music has helped them move through very difficult moments in their lives.
This is always so humbling to hear and keeps me going when the industry gets hard for me. I always try to remember that song connects me to people and that’s why I fell in love with music in the first place.
Has teaching made you a better musician?
Absolutely!
Who are your fantasy collaborators? Name three — dead or alive — and tell me why.
An artist I would love to work with one day is Tyler, the Creator. I love his whole concept as an artist — it’s truly brilliant!
I’d love to work with a philharmonic orchestra. This is my dream to have my music be played in a grand orchestra hall and the music arranged for a 120-piece philharmonic orchestra. This is on the bucket list!
I’d love to work with the German film composer Hans Zimmer. His music is so brilliant and moving.
I am a film music geek. I have determined the quality of a movie from the quality of its music since I was a kid watching Disney movies.
Animation movies with amazing music were my favourites, like The Lion King, The Prince of Egypt, The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
My dad always used to buy me these films on movie cassettes. This is one of my favourite memories with my father — we would watch these films together and he would see me learn the music and learn to recite the lines verbatim. It was the best!
What is your musical guilty pleasure?
Watching films with great scores on repeat. I always watch Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings and Love Jones because of their scores. I love the music on Love Jones because the old-school jazz brings the film to life.
What is your favourite Sunday morning music?
I listen to a lot of gospel, R&B and Peruvian vocalist Susana Baca’s music. I also listen to a lot of [Spanish singer] Concha Buika.
And your favourite Saturday night music?
My daughter and I are obsessed with Aretha Franklin’s I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You album.
So, this is our Saturday night jam now.
Lastly, what made you get up this morning?
I’m currently writing an essay on my sound research.
I was recently asked to do a commission piece for a project called The Shape of a Pocket, which is looking at the Western Cape quarries and the materials mined at the quarries that helped build many of the historical sites in Cape Town.
I was asked to contribute a multi-track vocal composition for this project and to submit a write-up, which was to accompany the track. I’m so excited for what I have written, I literally woke up early to read it again!
This stuff makes me happy. Seeing my artistic growth over the years is really my flex. I’m so grateful to music for gifting me these experiences and ideas.