GUEST WRITER
You almost certainly missed it. Unless you are one of the King’s small but mighty vocal following who attended or tuned in to the album launch in February of last year, or keep your ear closer to the ground than Plot Mhako does, I am going to make a healthy guess that you missed it.
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| King Isaac |
For if you had heard it, and you are a fan of [really good] Reggae music, there is no way you would not have raved endlessly about the Love Talk album; especially considering King Isaac's long career, albeit being heavily punctuated with intermittency. Put a pin in that though, and allow me to talk about the man behind the music for a moment.
King Isaac is an enigma.
And I will explain by way of anecdotes.
On Africa Day this year, I was in attendance when the Michigan-based crooner performed at ZimExpo in Chicago. As he took to the stage with masterful poise, I remember three distinct reactions from different sections of the crowd.
Gen Xers (the King’s peer group) delighted in seeing him on the bill, excitedly murmuring about how he was the Pangu Pangu or Shanje Moto guy (with one fella even declaring that, all along, he thought King Isaac was Gregory Isaacs’ son; but we’ll let that one slide!); the millennials (30-45?) vaguely remembered him from early 2000s TV if they were in Zimbabwe at the time, and Gen Z, well, generally didn’t know or seem to care too much.
Lest you accuse me of honing on episode and drawing a whole theory therefrom, I invite you to spend some time on the King’s social media pages: the most recent song you hear evoked as a King Isaac classic is One Cocoa off of 2010’s GRAMMY-Nominated collaborative album with Gregory Isaacs, Isaacs Meets Isaac. Most else is the aforementioned Pangu Pangu (2004), Shanje Moto (originally released in 2002), and other earlier jams (Shungu, Keeping it Away, etc.)
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| At Zim Expo in Chicago (May, 2024) |
Did I mention he was nominated for a Grammy? That’s right. His album, together with the late great Cool Ruler Gregory Isaacs, Isaacs meets Isaac was nominated for “Best Reggae Album” at the world’s most prestigious awards in 2010 (he tells the fascinating tale of how that project came about in this video.) Indeed, while there has been an increasing number of Zimbabwean musicians and writers nominated (and even winning) at the Grammys since then, the King undoubtedly opened the door here – with an album no less.
And therein lies the King Isaac paradox, ladies and gentlemen. How does a Grammy-nominee, who has worked with reggae icons like Isaacs, U-Roy, Leroy Sibbles, and Chaka Demus, and hails from the Reggae-mad nation that is Zimbabwe, drift into the relative obscurity described earlier? Somebody who came into the game collaborating with regional powerhouses like Mahotella Queens, and has worked with era-defining dancehall artists in Zimbabwe: the likes of Tavona (now Ganjahtrix) and Potato. How does that nomination at the turn of the 2010s not usher in a decade of absolute dominance, especially given the dearth of pure Reggae sounds in the height of the ZimDancehall Era? What Gives?
The Post-2008 Abyss
The early 2010s were such a weird time for the music industry in general, and for the Zimbabwean music scene in particular. The momentous shift away from physical distribution of music towards the digital space was underway, and clumsily so in Zimbabwe (and other such markets.) It was unprecedented.
This is the era dominated by grainy videos uploaded to YouTube channels unrelated to the artist, and it is not the least bit surprising to not be able to find the official versions of songs released in that era: a lot of the music was neither committed (in large numbers) to physical media which seemed to be going out of fashion, nor to a digital distribution scene which was nebulous at best at the time. Finally, social media was only starting to take shape as the leading space for information sharing, and WhatsApp—perhaps the single most important platform for sharing music, particularly across borders—was brand new.
All this was happening in the context of a nation hungover from the socio-political and economic malaise of 2008. The Urban Grooves era (as we knew it) was all but dead, Sungura was waiting (and arguably still is) for someone to fill the Tongai Moyo sized shoes and keep Macheso atop the museve space, Tuku had slowed down after a Bayern Munich-esque decade of dominance beginning with Tuku Music, etc.
Dare I say, with the exception of perhaps Jah Prayzah, Winky D (although he had already developed a bit of a buzz by this stage) and a few others, there aren’t too many artists who came to prominence in this era who have had much longevity. Weird times.
What does this have to do with the cool-crooning King?
Well, prior to the Grammy-nominated project in 2010, King Isaac’s last noteworthy project was over half a decade old. And while he followed up Isaacs Meets Isaac with 2011’s Here I Go Again (an incredible, all-Reggae project in its own right), we wouldn’t hear anything from him again until 2018- but more on that later. What this means, then, is that Isaac was not immediately on our minds going into the nadir of 2008 and, although the Grammy nod and the immediate follow-up positioned him to have a barnstorming decade locally, with a good chance at a decent regional and international presence as well, his almost-decade long silence as the world transitioned to WhatsApp dominance, to artists figuring out the YouTube game, to the multiplicity of social media platforms, to the dancehall era in which fans were often starved of a matured reggae sound to accompany the good-vibes centric themes that defined much of the genre … the King wasn’t there.
A King in the Wilderness
I already hinted at my second theory in my first one above. That is to say, if King Isaac’s blast-off moment fell at a somewhat awkward time in the climate of the space, his output during the 2010s did not help his case. Indeed, even in the optimism brought about by his back-to-back albums, there are only two music videos from that season; one on either album- both of the collaborations; both not originally posted to his official YouTube page.
After 2011’s Here I Go Again, we didn’t hear from the King again until 2018’s Makuwerere (Coat of Many Colors). That wasn’t just his next album; it was the next time he released any music at all. That’s an eternity! For perspective, Here I Go Again came out when Tsvangirai was prime minister, and Makuwerere when Mnangagwa was president. Lebron had only just left Cleveland for the first time and, by the time the latter dropped, he was leaving for the second time. You get the drift—such a long time indeed.
Furthermore, if the hope had been to build upon the momentum of the back-to-back Reggae albums of the early 2010s, then the fact is this project was not a Reggae album per se. Sure, there were several Reggae songs on the project, with Singing Glory being a particular standout. However the lead single/title track (and only song with an official video on the project) was an Afropop joint rooted in traditional Zimbo sonics—and so were other noteworthy songs like Zveupenyu and Wachema Muroora. Thus, though a stellar project, it would have hardly satiated the famished Reggae fandom who had waited nearly a decade for the king to drop.
Then ... he went quiet—again.
Not a peep until Valentine’s season in 2021, wherein he dropped two singles; another Afropop joint and a Reggae collaboration with veteran chanter, Potato. All this to say: if the first theory as to the King’s apparent absence from the limelight pointed to the environmental shift; the second here speaks to his ‘culpability’ in all this as well.
After a smattering of other singles over the following year, we finally got the Reggae album we had waited over a decade for in 2023.
Enter ‘Love Talk’
For starters, the album was buoyed by its two co-lead singles, The Score (alongside the iconic Chaka Demus), and Uye Uye—both released a year earlier. In fact, the release of those two in February 2022 marked the second year the King had dropped two love singles on the eve of Valentine’s Day; and he was about to step it up for the third year.
But before I get (back) to the album, allow me to touch on those two singles, real quick. With the King’s smooth crooning juxtaposing with Chaka Demus legendary chanting much like Pliers’s renown, The Score is Ska-esque and, of all the songs on the project, ventures furthest from the Lover’s Rock reggae sound: but to great effect.
While never breaching the most mainstream space in a significant way, the song’s quality is highlighted by its impact in niche spaces. The song went on to top the Classic 263 annual charts for 2022, and on Spotify, it is the most-listened-to King Isaac Song that is not from the Isaac Meets Isaac album. Uye Uye”, on the other hand, is a lyrical ‘Shonglish’ masterpiece in the smooth Reggae tradition. The song also charted on the Classic 263 annual chart; coming in 4th.
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| The Classic 263 Year-end Top 50 Chart for 2022: with two King Isaac songs in the Top 5! |
That’s right. The two lead singles off Love Talk were both in the annual top five of Classic 263 (former Radio One in Zimbabwe.) Is dominance on a niche platform testament to excellence, or a failure to breach into the mainstream?
While you meditate on that, allow me to also say this with no hyperbole: the ‘Uye Uye video directed by Angel Arts (below), is one of the best musical videos I have seen this decade: and is now the second-most viewed King Isaac video on YouTube (behind the Isaacs meets Isaac’s lead single, ‘One Cocoa’): yet still sits at just under 10 000 views. I hope you are seeing the enigmatic trend developing here (I’ll come back to it at the end.)
Oh yea, the album itself.
Love Talk opens with the title track and, over 12 tracks, relentlessly serenades the listener with what King Isaac himself explains as an experience about “not cheap love, or lustful love, but a love that builds, for love is the foundation and basis for human existence.”
Because of the album’s general sonic and thematic cohesiveness, it is difficult to isolate one or two as standout tracks: but the aforementioned singles, as well as the third one, Leroy Sibbles-produced Secret Admirer are noteworthy joints, while African Pearl, featuring Motswana songstress Kearoma Rantao (the only other feature on the album) tells a beautiful story of love against the odds.
Oh my. Look how the time has flown.
I set out to write a quick review of King Isaac’s Love Talk album (a year and a half too late, no less), and stumbled into a philosophical labyrinth about the king’s polarized legacy.
A Grammy-nominated icon whose name audience members still stumble on. Celebrated internationally by the very titans of Reggae music, yet nary a mention in the reggae-obsessed teapot-shaped nation from which he hails.
Utterly dominant on niche charts, but can’t get a spin on mainstream stations. Potentially era-defining videos that receive less views in two years than his contemporaries get in a day. What gives?
An excellent musician. Erudite musician. Enterprising, if at times esoteric, man. Enigmatic career.
An enigma, I tell you.
That's King Isaac for you.
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