Amapiano, the unique South African delight.

by Ian Opolot (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection South Africa

In the midst of economic might, I found myself, though stacked upon township misery that bore the weight of its apartheid past. Johannesburg was a mix of different lifestyles and circumstances all within a stone’s throw of each other. Never had I experienced a country so divided, both by race and class yet still exhibit scenes of such joy through music. Upon arrival, and in a cab motoring through the highways of Gauteng, it was not long before I noticed a distinct vibrancy in the streets. My cab driver informed me that I had arrived in great timing, South African summertime whereby in December there are ‘’31 Saturdays’’. The surrounding fever pitch atmosphere began to make sense to me. Offices begin to close during late November until well into January, and those that remain open are seldom in operation. The streets were a combustion of energy, outdoor barbecues flirted with my nostrils and music blared from retro MK1 Golf’s and BMW Alpina’s as they raced by. Glorious sunny weather, and smiling faces galore surrounded in anticipation of what yet another ‘Saturday’ would bring. I had arrived. ‘Have you heard of the Yanos?!’. A local asked as myself and friends dined at a restaurant with live music. I was soon to find out, in all its emphatic glory. Amapiano (nicknamed the ‘Yanos’) is a sub-genre of House music, featuring heavy basslines, piano/keyboard usage in the higher notes, and ‘Fliet’, a form of whistling. This combination creates an energy that perplexes, truly nothing like I had come across before. That night I experienced its ethos of street parties, and the hysteria of the summer break attached. Synthesised drumkits and electronic beats bellowed into the valleys of Gauteng, and right before me were sounds portraying lives in the townships at that present moment. This was far cry from the suburbs of London. A new sense of freedom in delight amongst South African’s was palpable, and I quickly realised a significant cultural movement was brewing. We cannot underestimate the power music has in narrating the times and giving a voice to the unheard. It is an art. I visited clubs like the Great Dane within the CBD of Johannesburg, an apartment converted into an event space. The event was interestingly named Sunday Roast, and my first experience was so good it could not be my last. I went twice. Both times, the venue was packed to legal capacity. I was partying throughout the afternoon, and soon the orange sun gave way to the dark shade of night, yet revelers continued to dance in trance well into the small hours. It was truly a feeling of self-transcendence. When not playing Amapiano, the DJs were forced to rebuff frequent requests to play Amapiano from partygoers, before they’d eventually succumb greeted by immense cheers. Unbridled joy amongst myself and the people soon became an expectation of mine, decorated pleasantly by the backdrop of South Africa itself. Amapiano is dominated by artists singing and rapping in Zulu, and I often found myself doing the same, in a language I did not know a word of prior. At that moment, whilst dancing, I felt at one with those from South Africa, a connection brought about by the love of music. Music has a unique ability to transcend language, it is a feeling. Amapiano is infectious, an unstoppable force thundering down a hillside as you lie in wait at the bottom of the valley — impossible to avoid. Amapiano is a vessel of South African culture, and unique in its tendency to conjure raw emotions of happiness from anybody who happens to fall into its grasp. If there is any lasting experience I am to take from Johannesburg, it is the Yanos. It seeks to begin the long-drawn healing process of the apartheid through moments of ecstasy and provides evidence of what beauty can come about from apparent nothingness. It has been quite a while since I left Johannesburg, though the spark of Amapiano has failed to diminish. My mornings are often greeted with chirping birds, a sound not too distant from the flutterings of Fliet.