The Enduring Legacy of Judith Sephuma’s 'A Cry, A Smile, A Dance'
A quarter-century after A Cry, A Smile, A Dance changed the course of her life, Judith Sephuma reflects on evolution and the generation of artists that followed.
Tšeliso MonahengTšelisoMonahengJohannesburg-Based Southern Africa Correspondent
Judith Sephuma celebrates 25 years of her debut album this year.courtesy of Judith Sephuma
Twenty-five years ago, Judith Sephuma wrote herself into the history of South African jazz, placing herself within a lineage written in song, struggle, liberation, and the endless quest to become greater versions of ourselves. Her debut album, A Cry, A Smile, A Dance, ushered in a new generation of musicians, with one foot planted in the cruelties of the apartheid regime and the other in the transition from former president Nelson Mandela's Rainbow Nation to his successor Thabo Mbeki's African Renaissance project. Whether they knew it or not, young Black artists coming out of conservatories and music schools found themselves at the center of that project. It was a hopeful time, and the music reflected it.
In Sephuma, South African jazz found an accessible vocabulary: simple melodies that belied the complex structure of her music, and spellbinding, proverbial lyrics that spoke of life's joys and sorrows. Her songs drew on an archive of music (the hymns, the childhood folk songs, the sheer weight of the exile years) while crafting an identity entirely of her own making. The title track topped the charts upon release, and its video was in constant rotation across major television networks, catapulting a freshly graduated Sephuma to national fame.
"I was just a young girl, not wanting to record. I was not interested in fame at all. But I think your calling will always follow you, and it will bring you to where you are supposed to be. And that's what happened," she tells OkayAfrica, recalling the period between graduating from the University of Cape Town's South African College of Music and landing her first recording contract with BMG.
"I was just a girl who wanted to sing. That album blew up so much, it became such a big, life-changing album for myself and so many other people. At the time, the style that I came with — I introduced it, and I feel so special for saying that, because that's what they tell me as well," she says, half-jokingly.
Sephuma arrived as part of a broader moment in which a new wave of vocalists and instrumentalists was redrawing the boundaries of what South African jazz could be. The late, great Gloria Bosman had released Tranquility two years earlier, and Selaelo Selota's Enchanted Gardens, which contained the Afro-jazz classic "Thrrr…Pha," came out the same year as Sephuma's debut, which Selota produced.
Success arrived quickly, and it brought a new set of expectations. "I was forced to grow up so fast and change my mindset, to look at my career seriously as a business. Because I realized how much I was making moves in the jazz industry, and how people respected me without even knowing me, how they loved and appreciated my music. And they wanted me to be everywhere at the same time," she recalls.
"I was just a young girl, not wanting to record. I was not interested in fame at all,” says Judith Sephuma.courtesy of Judith Sephuma
Her reflections also speak to a world long gone: when CD sales still mattered, when A&R was still a well-established feature of the record label model, and when radio spins translated into work. A hit single meant bookings, festival appearances, corporate gigs, television spots, and tours that stretched across the country and beyond.
"We worked so much. 'A Cry' got us everywhere," she says, adding that she doubts anyone still grinds that hard these days. She also uses the word "forced" to describe signing the record deal. "And I will say forced because it came as a surprise. It was like, here it is, take it or leave it. I had to take it, and it became such a beautiful thing. The industry welcomed me so well, with challenges, of course — but we conquered everything," she says.
A remix package for "Iya Iyo," taken from the same album, arrived in August, with reworks from Shazmicsoul, who takes it to the deeper side of the dance floor; Stixx, whose distinctive bassline carries the song; and C-Black, who builds on a 2-step/broken-beat foundation to craft something endearing and ethereal.
"The call that I got was, 'Would you consider remixing "Iya Iyo" for the 25th anniversary of A Cry, A Smile, A Dance?' And I said yes, why not? We're all about evolution. The sound that we have nowadays - amapiano and hip-hop - everything has just changed. They are living life like it's golden; it's happening. [Amapiano] is the genre that is making South Africa what it is. When I heard the remixes, I was like, this is really beautiful. Because they kept the essence of what the song is; they didn't take away from the artist. They kept the concept of the song; they kept Selaelo's sound in there, they kept my voice in there. I love it; it's really beautiful."
When she steps onto the Joy of Jazz stage, she will do so knowing that, in her 25 years in the game, a whole legion of artists has blossomed in her shadow. "I just love the fact that they voice it; they tell us. And when they do that, it inspires us so much. We really love hearing that we're doing something good," she concludes.
