The Hip Hop artist formerly known as Elbow shed his old moniker a few weeks ago introducing Luther October complete with new music to share. We sit down for a conversation about the music business and plans for the FME camp.
Luther is sitting at the edge of his seat, one of the many dark, deeply varnished benches in the restaurant in Gaborone’s first mall. In the 1970s Main Mall was a hub for the capital’s central business district comprising government buildings and parastatals, one of which was Debswana — the parastatal in charge of mining and marketing Botswana diamonds, the mineral fortunes that were the cornerstone of the small democracy’s economy. Flanking the mall were subsidized two-bedroomed lease-to-buy council houses built by the government’s Self-Help Housing Agency (SHHA)* an organization created in response to makeshift housing and overpopulation due to rural-urban migration of the time. The houses still stand but a majority have been sold to businesses (salons, law firms, vocational colleges) or knocked down by a new generation looking to build plusher and modern designs. The mall we stand in though is still a hub for small businesses, banking institutions, fast food franchises, hawkers and eateries like the one we are in, as well as a playground for sk8er bois who convert the empty bank parking lot into a skate park on weekends.
Luther wears a baby blue T-shirt that hangs loose — by rapper standards — on his small frame. He is in house slippers and socks, surfer shorts barely hanging around his waist in true rapper sagging fashion. A moustache steals any sense of immaturity his boyish face suggests. On his head sits a white baseball cap from his FME camp’s merch collection. Judging by the frayed threads it’s quite obvious that he has worn it on more occasions than it can handle. His direct gaze in my eyes throughout our time talking is of someone who does not fear confrontation. “I’m very blunt and direct” he tells me now and again when he feels I may be holding back something to make him comfortable. I, on the other hand, use polarized sunglasses as a shield for my nervous tick and weary insomniac eyes. The waiter who ushered us in interrupts our preliminary small talk placing three glasses of lemonade water on the table; one for me, one for him and one for his producer who has joined us. Luther sips slowly, clearly not affected by the sweltering heat outside invading the al fresco setup on the first floor eatery.
In the largely empty restaurant on a Monday afternoon there is a light breeze saving us from the Gaborone heat. An overhead spray periodically spritzes a cold shower of water over us. 80s and 90s US bubblegum Pop booms from various screens leading me to abandon the thought of recording the interview. The environment somehow doesn’t worry Luther who is sitting comfortably across from me. “Ok, let’s go” he instructs me, fixing his eyes like a prize-fighter. He has the focus of a seasoned vet and that might be due to the trials he has been through.
Over the years he has been an artist under a label forced to “put himself on,” fought for a place in the industry and played promoter headlining his own shows with the FME crew. It all started in 2013 for the 22-year-old when he was approached by his current label mate Slow G. “At the time I was affiliated with Bang!Gae and Slow G asked me to help me out with his clothing line. I had a fallout with Bang!Gae after some time and I joined FME officially a little later,” he tells me. How the whole crew came together is a product of natural social patchwork; Slow G and Young C were co-founders of the company before roping in Luther to form the current FME roster. DJ Dee Bond was recruited by Slow G and Jozi Straight came in not much later. Piet the DJ was called in the same year by Jozi Straight and the camp was finally complete with two rappers and three DJs. The crew officially started making music in 2014.
With the vision of making music and taking over the city, they set out to create a movement which quickly expanded from just clothing to regular spots on youth radio stations Duma FM and Yarona FM to bookings at urban youth shows across the city. The success was easily measurable; on one hand the DJs Dee Bond and Piet the DJ were tour DJs for BanT and Ammo Ski Mask respectively and the artists Elbow and Slow G had singles with “Holding Me Back” featuring Yaw Bannerman, “Come Duze” and “Wanna Know.” The songs were not widely received and failed to make a big splash nationwide. In conversation, he tells me the growth was stifled because “there were too many ventures within FME” to push their music, a reality that is true as they were spreading themselves thin in between varsity for some, club shows, tours, side hustles and radio DJing spots.
When I ask Luther about their 2017 hit “Made A Way” with Piet the DJ, it’s all smiles. “We are just casting the net. Everyone is putting out music individually and if one of us blows up then that’s dope.” Last week Jozi Straight put out his new single with Gorata and Luther dropped his on the day of this interview. “I just dropped it today. My Whatsapp is probably buzzing but I don’t have data right now,” he says excitedly. His admission of being out of bundles and the fact that we haven’t ordered anything 40 minutes since we got to the restaurant is the harsh reality of rap life in Botswana; the cash flow is a struggle because when the money comes in its spent fast paying for pending debts and administration costs that come with an independent grind thus leaving little for recreational purposes.
We switch gears to talk about his name change. “You know what Elbow means right?” he asks with a blank stare. When I finally put the pieces together I am ashamed at my daftness. “S’jabana” is a moniker already used by veteran artist Kast so the literal translation Elbow was picked as a stage name. S’jabana is Setswana slang for ladies’ man or playboy but as Luther states matter-of-factly, “it doesn’t make sense to me anymore… I can’t be Elbow at 50.” This statement which he himself doesn’t look to fully appreciate when it leaves his lips speaks to the plans he has for the future. It indicates his unconscious desire to continue in this treacherous vocation till old age, a gallant idea in an industry prone to chucking out rap artists when they reach their thirties. “I’ve tasted enough rap money to know there’s money in this industry,” he says countless times when we talk about troubles in the game. And yet we find ourselves having to rustle up cash to pay for the bill at the end of the day because all of us “forgot our wallets.”
“Luther is my second name and October is my birth month so I just put them together. I figured it a catchy name and it’s easy to remember.” The new single presents an opportunity to introduce the new name and a “new vibe” to the public. “The new song is called Pick Up Your Phone and is more of a Tropical sound. I wrote the hook myself and tried to sing it but it didn’t work,” he says of the single. Acknowledging his inadequacy in the singing department, he sought out a vocalist who could give the song the necessary push. The saving grace came in the form of Jordie, a relatively new face on the scene who had just made waves with a feature on House DJ & producer Chef Gustos’ single “Go Lesedi” and debuted her own solo single in the last week of February. Excitement for the drop is clearly in both guests as they chip in to give key facts about the song and how it came together. “CB produced the song — he doesn’t want to be known so he just uses the name CB,” Luther adds curiously. The two give each other knowing glances, as if to celebrate knowledge of national privileged information.
It’s 5PM and the heat doesn’t seem to ease its grip on us. It’s just after closing time for office workers and their symphonic buzzing in the street below cutting the two rows of buildings comprising Main Mall can be heard. It’s the sound of dreams deferred for declined loan applications in the 5-plus banking institutions in the precinct, the promise of a better day tomorrow for government workers who have not seen a wage increase in years, the uncertainty of a promised bright future for students from a neighbouring high school who cut through the mall on their way to the city’s taxi rank, and the optimism of young entrepreneurs who seek survival despite the 25.1% youth unemployment.
It is this collective dissatisfaction that has led to bars and restaurants filled to the brim with self-medicating citizens of all ages. Two levies on alcohol have been placed 6 years apart to crack down on alcohol use but these have done little to reduce consumption in Botswana as a whole. It’s in this environment that musicians like Luther October operate to bring joy, comfort, hope, and at worst distraction to a citizenry that is losing its patience with the establishment. The protest music culture in Botswana is at its lowest but the rebellion is in the music that is a vehicle for expression for a better day, an idea that is embraced in popular music festivals such as Chillstep Sundays that are filled with flower child types that celebrate life while their country crumbles under them from the pressure of normalized, callous corruption and economic quicksand. Artists like Luther October unknowingly become soldiers of the revolution creating the motivation to keep the guerrillas going. “Pick Up Your Phone” will not be his last because he plans to have another song in the arsenal before the month is through.
“By the way this is an exclusive,” Luther says excitedly. “I’m dropping second single this month. It’s called Culture. On Pick Up Your Phone I switched it up for the honeys but on Culture it’s straight rap.” I asked him about the end goal for all this music but this time he is tight-lipped, “I can’t give you a specific date but I will drop a mixtape in the first quarter of the year.”
The revolution will be not be televised, it will be spread on Soundcloud and beamed all over the world. The revolution will be pirated on Whatsapp and distributed hand-to-hand like dime bags. The revolution will be gauged by the number of reactions and likes on Facebook, the data limit lingering in the mind fuelling the paranoia. The revolution will be preyed on by legislation rooting for restricted internet access, loitering, selective vetting for liquor licenses, protest march permits and shorter club operating hours. But the revolution cannot be stopped. The revolution is at the turn up.
STREAM: Pick Up Your Phone
