SHINGIRIRAI MAVIMA
Let the naysayers come forth.
Let them declare, as they do each time a contemporary name is mentioned among the greats, that this is impossible; that legendary status within the Zimbabwean music space is only attainable by those who broke out in the 20th century – as if younger millennials and Gen Z do not deserve to witness greatness in their time.
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| Jah Prayzah performing in Toronto, Canada on July 11 2025. Image [northprinc3/Tik Tok] |
Let them come forth and poke holes in the Mukudzei story; let them lecture us, those who have recognized the icon in whose time we are honored to live that he is, about how we are wrong and may as well be perpetual COVID patients the way we lack taste.
Once sentimentality, nostalgia, and general condescension towards those whose tastes differ from yours is done, however, we will have to look at the more objective (as objective as anything ever is in the artsy world), and decipher what it is that JP still has to prove. A burgeoning catalog that, at this point, rivals those of many who are accepted into realm of the GOATS with nary a question; visuals that make us forget of a time when Zim videos overwhelmingly sucked; hit songs upon hit songs, a longevity that already puts many to shame (and he is far from done), collaborations with the finest of his peers locally, regionally, and even internationally; and numbers to boot.
I apologize. Clearly, I am an apologist - pun not intended - and I got carried away.
I’m not here to build a prosaic shrine to Jah Prayzah; I am here to talk about a show I attended recently.
Toronto, Canada. July 11, 2025. A live performance to savour
Now full disclosure, having been in the diaspora since pretty much when I left home for college some two decades ago now (damn!), my entire adult concert-going experiences have virtually been away from home, having caught Tuku and (eventually) Mokoomba concerts in the United States of America (and, to be fair, the likes of Tocky Vibes, King Isaac, Julian King and Sandra Ndebele at ZimExpo; but you know how expo shows can be), Freeman and Jay Prayzah in Pretoria, and now, Jah Prayzah again, this time in Toronto.(Don’t get me wrong; I still attend shows when I’m back in Zimbabwe; but I usually do the small, often-in-the-ghetto shows - last time I was there I caught Assagai Crew paBoka in Dangamvura. Type stuff.)
When the #NdiniMukudzei tour was announced, many in the Zim community out here (US) were enthralled. There are those who love JP, those who just yearn for a taste of the teapot-shaped nation, and still, some who were just happy that the US stops (DC and Dallas) fell on the July 4 weekend (US Independence Day), and so they could make a weekend out of it all.
Unfortunately, those hopes were trumped, and those two shows got cancelled. Doubly unfortunate, as the cancellations were so last minute that many who had booked flights and hotels were unable to get refunds (particularly costly, what with it being a holiday weekend and all). Resourceful and resigned in the way that Zimbos have learnt to be, many folks just traveled to those places anyway; and just made a Jah Prayzah-less weekend out of it.
As fate would have it, those among us with poorer planning skills and a general phobia of commitment were in luck: there were two more North American shows; only in Canada and on the following weekend. In fact, living in Michigan, the trip across the border into Toronto (if you can make it) is significantly shorter than going to DC or Dallas (think going to Beira from Mutare as opposed to, say, Mutare to Vic Falls in the case of Dallas), so that was just as well—though we carried the disappointment of our now-severely compromised squad with us.
You didn’t come here to read some guy journaling about his trip. You came to hear about the show.
Billed to start at 5pm, there weren’t any opening acts – save for the DJ who did a decent job of keeping the crowd vibing. An outdoor summer concert, there was a festival feel to the goings-on; a few vendors slanging product etc. Right at 8pm, the Tall one and his friends took to the stage; which was good to see. (When I attended his Pretoria show, for example, it was marketed as starting at 3pm, but he did not get on stage until 11pm. I recognize that is likely the venue trying to maximize on food sales and such throughout the evening and no fault of the artist!)
At this moment, I must confess that I was feeling…nice. Libations had been flowing all evening; and that was on purpose. I had told my travelling party that I hope to witness the show from the vantage point of the most comfortably inebriated (yet still coherent) attendant at the show and we would see what that review looked like. They thought it was a fun, if unorthodox, idea, so they kept them flowing.
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| Big Shingi (in red shirt and hat) getting himself the most comfortable view from which we guess made this review possible. |
The show was vintage JP. From opening with the self-affirming, territory-demarcating Ndini Mukudzei, Mwendamberi’s bravado and wit, accompanied by his entire band’s stamina and seamless rapport was on full show. The man is a born entertainer: and not just in the way that many good to great musicians are. If you have seen his skits or interviews, you know a man whose instincts at communicating that which brings out the exact reaction he is hoping to elicit. The set featured some beloved yesteryear cuts, including Jerusarema, Chengetedza, Dzamutsana, and Mudhara Vachauya. I was pleasantly surprised to hear “Nziyo Yerudo”; because of the inimitability of Yemi Alade, and the fact that I have never seen the two of them being at the same show, I had long resigned that I’d never hear it on stage with any semblance of justice. To their credit, Stimela and Excavator, his backup singers, did an admirable job!
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| Excavator in the middle, JP's backup singer. |
From the latest album, I got the sense that “Necessary” and “Ibvo” were especially popular on the night. Take that with a grain of salt - on account of the said camaraderie with the wicked liquid stated earlier.
Having been to the aforementioned Pretoria show in 2023, it was fascinating to juxtapose his execution in each show. Pretoria was an indoor, multistory affair with a VVIP section two floors high, a giant stage and an impromptu stop by Makhadzi even. This was an outdoors event - the sun being out for at least the first half, far smaller (but significant) crowd: a different vibe for sure, but no less captivating.
In a particularly poignant moment, I found myself standing next to this gentleman of East Asian descent in the crowd. Must be here with some friends, or is a cultural fiend down to check out new stuff around town. Then I noticed he was singing along to plenty of the songs, so I leaned in. “Wait, how do you know all these joints?” He turns around and says “Aah Blaz. Ndobva paMasvingo apo!” With egg now in my face for assuming things, we toasted and had a chuckle. Such was the vibe of the night.
The only knock on the show that I observed was the total disregard for the VIP status. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t worship at the altar of elitism; but I also believe that a sale is a contract. If you charge people at least twice what they may have paid anyway to just be in the show, then something has to give. The ‘VIP’ tents were at an awkward angle that gave quite possibly the worst view of the show and, even then, there were no checks whatsoever; I don’t even remember it coming up one time. This is, of course, not the artist’s fault, and it is also not to pile on to the promoters- to whom we have since sent that feedback and they were gracious in their reception thereof.
By the time we got to the final song, which was “Ronik…” – no, of course it was "Goto" – you knew it was the perfect show. On our trip, uninitiated members of our travel party had asked what my predictions for his set might be; so I assured them he always closed with that one, and as we played it, I was at pains to explain to them how transcendent, almost spiritual it often got. I could tell that I had lost them; they couldn’t grasp it. They came to me soon after and said “okay, we see what you meant.” It lived up to the billing and, as prompt as ever, wrapped the show at 11pm. (One of the band members happens to be a childhood acquaintance of mine, and I had been telling folks that we knew each other and they were incredulous. Thus, I was delighted when they heard I was in attendance and called me to meet them backstage. Nice touch, and good seeing them.)
Had the naysayers come forth then, and sought it within themselves, they would have had to concede that we may be bearing witness to something special here. This particular show may not go down in lore the way others have (indeed, that Pretoria one seems to have) except in the memories of those who were there; but it was a professional, clean-cut set: a collective legacy of which amounts to legendary status.
Let the naysayers come forth and, for a moment, lay down their shield. We are witnessing greatness.
(I would be remiss if I didn’t conclude by saluting Anotida Maziriri and Edmore Mafuwe, who passed away in a car accident en route to the show. May their souls rest in peace, and my sincerest condolences go to their families and loved ones.)
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