Nduduzo Makhathini does not play the piano as a harmonic instrument; he moves through it as though it were a spiritual territory. With him, it happens suddenly: a chord opens up like a fissure, the left hand keeps digging while the right seems to be searching for something above the clouds. Beyond memory, even beyond music. And then you realise that what you are hearing does not truly belong to the Western grammar of the piano. Not entirely. Not anymore. In his music there is no separation between ritual and composition, between cosmology and rhythm. Nor between improvisation and the power to heal. His is not music therapy – or perhaps it is: every note seems to be uttered by someone trying to remember something very ancient. Something that predates jazz, perhaps even language itself. That is why describing him simply as one of the most important contemporary pianists would […]
