Page 85 - FINAL_RPS Awards 2021 Coverage Book_Full (2)

Photo: BBC/Chris Christodoulou

Selaocoe combined vocal gymnastics with expressive virtuosity on the cello during his Proms
performance

Perhaps the most curious moment of all, however, comes when the orchestra alone (conducted by
Clark Rundell) plays the stately, almost ponderous ‘Entrée d’Abaris’ from Rameau’s rarely heard
opera Les Boréades. Surely it’s hard to imagine something less like Selaocoe’sZawose, which
precedes it – a riotous ‘thank you’ to Tanzania for its support of South African dissidents during the
struggle against apartheid. Selaocoe disagrees: ‘The concert was an example of mukete, which is a
celebration of different things and different cultures all at once,’ he tells me afterwards. ‘When we
go to amukete in South Africa it’s hectic. We’re celebrating, we’re grieving, there are cows being
slaughtered. But the Rameau is more than that, even; it’s about finding refuge, which is such an
important part of my work, and a connection between the improvisation that’s at the heart of
music of Africa and of the Baroque.’

Selaocoe, who at the time of writing is shortlisted for the 2021 Royal Philharmonic Society’s
Instrumentalist Award, has carried the same ideas across to his latest project, a forthcoming debut
recording on Warner Classics. ‘I’m developing that sense of looking for refuges, be they spiritual,
political or to do with community,’ he says, explaining that the disc will explore South African
concepts of solitude and togetherness with music from a wide range of styles and cultures. The
news of his signing to Warner this year came shortly after he received a prestigious Paul Hamlyn
Foundation Award for composition and joins the PRS Foundation’s Power Up scheme. Clearly,
Selaocoe’s star is in the ascendant.

Born in 1992, Selaocoe grew up in Sebokeng, a township in the industrial outskirts of
Johannesburg. ‘I’m a freedom child,’ he says, referring to the name given to the generation of South
Africans born during the country’s transition to democracy. ‘It was a time of mishmash. There was a
new feeling of possibility, in music as well as the rest of society. I grew up with protest songs
andisicathamiya groups like Ladysmith Black Mambazo,’ he says. Isicathamiya (the ‘c’ is another
click) describes a kind of a cappella choral singing Selaocoe describes as ‘post-colonial’ in the way it
fuses European and traditional African elements. ‘There were people playing classical music for the
first time and others who were celebrating a new era of South African jazz.’ Trumpeter Hugh
Masekela and self-taught pianist and saxophonist Bheki Mseleku were important early influences,
he says, but spiritual traditions also played their part. ‘Our church was a very physical place, and
loud, too. People would run in circles around a big lady playing a bass drum in the middle of the
room. The music there was very simple, just two chords. I loved that rhythm; it was a pre-colonial
sound.’

Although he would eventually go on to study the cello in the UK, Selaocoe’s first experiences of
music making came about through singing, something that comes as no surprise given the sheer
elemental power of his voice. ‘You couldn’t get away from it when I was growing up,’ he says.
‘Singing has always been a part of our culture; it’s constantly evolving. We’re still singing the same
protest songs, for example, but now we sing them at football matches. But when I think back, the
most nourishing times for singing were at primary school. They made us sing constantly, which was
a good thing. Big-up to primary schools in South Africa, in the townships.’ Later, after Selaocoe’s
playing had won him a scholarship to a prestigious Johannesburg boarding school, he would
combine duties as a choirboy with improvising voluntaries on the cello alongside the school
organist.