TAWANDA CHARI
Zimbabwean music sensation Kae Chaps has released his third studio album, Tarantino, an emotionally charged body of work that showcases his evolution as an artist. Just like the name suggests; borrowed from the legendary American filmmaker and actor Quentin Tarantino. Essentially, it’s a film in audio form. Except here, the director is Kae. It’s about coming to terms with heartbreak, success, disillusionment, and the price of chasing dreams. The project is cinematic in tone, real life experiences, and dark in places that mirror the shadows of a creative caught between love and loneliness, growth, guilt and the often brutal realities of the music industry – a "film by Kae Chaps," indeed.
The album opens with Ndaikuda (I Loved You), which is a two-part opus standing as a double-edged sword of success. The first half is a candid reflection on a past heartbreak. Kae Chaps recounts a period of financial struggle and increased drinking, leading to a breakup that, while painful, ultimately fueled his musical journey. He poignantly tells his ex-girlfriend, "Wakandiramba (you broke up with me) but I loved you," he tells us. The heartbreak hurt, but it became the catalyst for the very songs that elevated his career.
The second part of Ndaikuda shifts gears, offering a metaphorical commentary on his relationship with music itself. It’s a love-hate dynamic; where success brings numbers and recognition, but also the gnawing anxieties of maintaining relevance the pressure to outperform himself become suffocating. He laments the loss of genuine feedback, noting how the some people around him have become "yes men," afraid to offer criticism to the now-famous artist. The pure, unadulterated joy of creating music he once felt has been replaced by the ills that come with succeeding.
A twist in the narrative comes in the track Mai Vevana, a striking deviation from what fans have come to expect from Kae Chaps (he is mostly known for soul bearing heartbreak anthems especially his breakout during the COVID-19 era, which cemented his brand as the heartbroken bard of Zimbabwean music). Kae Chaps has often been the victim in his stories. An assertion made in jest that someone should break Kae Chaps’ heart so we can get another hit is not far-fetched.
Unlike Ndaikuda, the opening track where he mourns a lost love that he once cherished, here we meet a man haunted by regret not because he was left, but because he left. Whether it's autobiographical or purely fictional is beside the point. What matters is the vulnerability and emotional honesty in the storytelling.
He admits fault. He owns the pain he caused. The line between art and life blurs, but what shines through is the universally relatable sentiment: the ache of realizing you let go of something good.
He still thinks about her; day in, day out. He scrolls through the memories, even the undeleted photos. Her birthday is engraved in his mind. He knows what he did, and he’s not trying to spin it. He’s simply saying, “I messed up.”
But as he reflects, there’s a quiet acceptance that going back isn’t easy. It’s one thing to be heartbroken, but it’s another to be the heartbreaker and still feel lost. The doors we close ourselves often feel heavier when we try to return. This song doesn’t just show a different side of Kae Chaps, it humanizes him in a deeper way.
On the track Dhorobha (City), Kae Chaps cleverly uses the age old migration from rural areas to cities as a framing device for the impact of social media on modern relationships. While people traditionally moved to cities for economic opportunity, Kae Chaps suggests that social media now serves as a "city" of expanded access and heightened standards.
He paints a picture of how people and their romantic expectations shift once they gain access. Cities change people, but so does social media. Standards go up, illusions are sold, and sometimes, love becomes collateral in the pursuit of status.
Then comes the track Shamwari. The first time I heard this track, I thought it was about death. The haunting production, the weight in the vocals, and the overall mood led me to that conclusion; like it was grappling with the finality of loss. That’s how it felt on first impression, especially with the song playing in the background while I was working. But music has a way of unfolding itself with each listen.
By the time I played the album the second, third, and fourth time, things began to click. The lyrics reference a previous song – Let It Burn – from his last project. That changed everything. By referencing his older track Let It Burn, he makes peace with the fact that people come and go.
Let It Burn wasn’t about death either; it was about releasing something that no longer serves you. When you burn something, whether it’s a bridge or a relationship, you’re discarding it; letting it go. And that became the key to unlocking this song too.
This is not necessarily about death in its morbid perception; but more about the death of relationships, the loss of people who were once close, and accepting that we have no control over it. Sort of an invitation to be at peace with this.
This song becomes even more meaningful if you're inclined to Christian religiosity or any other spiritual perspective. It challenges the illusion of control. It suggests that all we can really do is cherish what we have while it’s here and accept when it’s gone.
Track five, Zvisina Loud, serves as a cautionary tale about discretion. Kae Chaps advises listeners to "make your money quietly," emphasizing the importance of keeping plans and achievements private. He warns that those you confide in, especially if not on the same wavelength, can easily become adversaries, driven by entitlement and jealousy. It’s a pragmatic piece of advice for navigating the complexities of success and maintaining genuine connections free from drama and betrayal.
Ndodonha Naye offers a throwback vibe with a modern twist. It carries echoes of yesteryear, providing a nostalgic feel. Lyrically, it’s a dedication to commitment, expressing a choice to stand by a significant other through thick and thin. Hasha neLife is about hard work and resilience, a defiant ultimatum against mediocrity. Kae Chaps stamps his ability to overcome obstacles, proving doubters wrong and acknowledging that self reliance is key to success.
The signature Kae Chaps sound shines prominently on Everything, yet the track is also a powerful ode to moving on. The lyrics directly confront a past partner, rebuking their "check-up" calls, seeing them not as concern but as an attempt to undermine his recovery. The emotion of feeling "everything" taken away is palpable, but it’s ultimately a song of healing and self preservation.
The themes of spiritual and familial comfort are given ample space on the tracks Pauchanyengetera (When You Pray) and Mazuva Akadai. The former is a simple, poignant plea for remembrance in prayer, revealing a personal struggle and the need for spiritual support. The latter is a tribute to the irreplaceable comfort of a mother's love, resonating deeply with anyone who has experienced such a loss. It beautifully captures the yearning for that unique maternal solace when facing life's difficulties.
The album is not short on features either. Chigumbu with Nutty O, Cherechedza Hama with Killer T, and Murder Mdhara featuring Holy Ten round off the project. Kae Chaps is the creator of his own film, telling it in the manner he understands best, and leaving us with a curiosity of what his career progression will he like.
Album Rating: 8.2/10
Listen to the album: https://open.spotify.com/album/6zcnXbpRK6wYqbtghjVgHt?si=s4wEY3UfQN-w6e5ybCWRPw
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