24 December 2023

Russell Herman may not be a name to prick up every Cape Town music lover’s ears when they hear it in a conversation. Yet, were a musician to chance on it, they would stop – that’s the type of attention Russell received from his peers.  When Russell played, they listened.

The District 6-born guitarist rose from humble beginnings to become one of the most respected guitarists in Cape Town, South Africa and in London where he settled in 1983.

His name is associated with some of the top bands in Cape Town and in the country:  Oswietie, Spirits Rejoice and Estudio. In London, he formed groups with expat musicians like pianist Mervyn Africa, drummer Bryan Abrahams and jammed with the likes of jazz giants Julian Bahula, Johnny Dyani, Louis Moholo, Dudu Pukwana and Chris McGregor.

Then, sadly, in 1998 at the tender age of 45, with his star rising, he died. South Africa lost one of its most gifted musicians.

Yet, the broader music-loving community in Cape Town, those who love serious music, knows nothing of the boy who enthralled his audience with his prowess on his guitar.

Russell would have celebrated is 70th birthday today and no doubt, social media would have been awash with birthday wishes for a musician who set the bar very high back in the ’70s already. To mark the occasion and honour his name, I asked a few of his contemporaries for their thoughts on the life of Russell Herman so today’s youth can get an idea of what they missed out on.

Pianist Mervyn Africa is one such person. He had a long association with Russell before Russell had even picked up an instrument.

“I came across him and his friends around 1964 playing in the street in District 6 where we grew up. Their ball had disappeared down a drain,” Mervyn recalled. “I retrieved it and told him what I did besides playing football, which was playing piano. He was impressed and wanted to play drums. It melted my heart to think of his genuine interest in music, he was only about 10-ish.”Years later, in the mid-70s, Mervyn would be playing alongside Russell in groups like Oswietie and Spirits Rejoice in South Africa and District 6 and Kintone in the UK and Europe.

“I don’t know much of his early years as a musician but from the time we played together, I remember Russell for his encouragement and honesty in music,” Mervyn said. “He was my best guitar collaborator; we had an unbreakable friendship over the years.”

When Russell joined Oswietie, he had already switched to playing the guitar and as Mervyn recalls, “by God, he was good”. Oswietie became something of a cult band with Russell quite at home playing alongside the likes of Mervyn, Robbie Jansen, Basil Coetzee, Tony Cedras and Qadir Khan and a host of other musos who came and went.

“The band played progressive covers by groups like Blood, Sweat & Tears and Chicago,” Mervyn said.  “Unfortunately, we never recorded anything. Everything then was about pop music. We were way ahead of our time.”

In the late ’70s, when Russell and Mervyn moved to Spirits Rejoice with top Jo’burg musicians like Sipho Gumede, Barney Rachabani and Duke Makasi, they made a pact to play only original material. It was exciting times for the Cape Town duo as they rubbed shoulders with Jo’burg’s best. Out of it came the seminal album African Spaces.

One stand out memory for Mervyn of that time was the arrival of a young Jonathan Butler. He had parted company with his management that had taken care of his teenybopper years.

“When Jonathan left the Calder Production group, he stayed in Jo’burg seeking out more mature music ventures,” Mervyn said. “He visited Russell often for ideas, chord structures and guitar fingering, which made Russell something of a mentor. I don’t know if that has ever been mentioned – I don’t like opening a can of worms – but that is what I saw.

“For me, Russell was the complete orchestrator and sound master on stage . . . always smiling as he executed every phrase created to a song’s measure.”

From Spirits Rejoice, around 1980, Russell helped form a group called Estudio and they were “next level” with their repertoire.  With Russell was violinist Louis Wald, bassist Peter Sklair and Tony Cedras. Their compositions were aimed at the serious-minded music lover. For a couple of years they did big gigs in Cape Town but mainly Jo’burg.

Russell left for London in 1983 taking with him a demo tape of Estudio. The tape never progressed into an LP (much to the regret of their many fans) but he found himself hanging out with like-minded ex-pat South African musicians. It proved to be an extremely creative and productive period.  He helped form District 6 and Kintone, and also turned his hand to producing artists, one of whom was the highly gifted pianist Bheki Mseleku.

Drummer Brian Abrahams, who had also gravitated to London after playing clubs and hotels on the SA circuit for years, met Russell in the early ’80s, in a venue called the 100 Club.

“The place was a hub for SA jazz,” Brian said from Melbourne where he now lives.  “All SA exiles and anti-apartheid activists would meet at this club and at the Africa Centre in Covent Garden to support the musicians. Even one of our former presidents, Thabo Mbeki, used to hang out and drink beer with us on a Friday night.

“My first impression of Russell was that he was a very talented and serious musician, with an unusual approach to the guitar. He also played the concert flute.”

Along with Mervyn, they formed District 6, focussing on original music they composed. “We gained a lot of support in a short time and the music was fiery and exciting,” Brian said.

The band made four albums: a live album, called Leave My Name At The Door, recorded at The Bass Clef, followed by Aguswagale (Let It Be Heard – 1987), To Be Free and Ingoma Yabantwana (Song For The Children) released in 1989. Russell insisted that we give the albums African titles, as they were relevant to the liberation and freedom struggle.

“In those years, we also collaborated with other exiled musicians . . . the likes of Julian Bahula, Johnny Dyani, Louis Moholo, Dudu Pukwana and Chris McGregor who also played piano on To Be Free.  This group lasted through the early ’80s and toured far and wide in Europe until I went off to join Abdullah Ibrahim’s band, Ekhaya in New York.

“Russell sadly had a lot of anxiety and anger about the plight of black and coloured South African people under apartheid rules. He resented the fact that British and white South African kids were so privileged at their schools with shiny brass and woodwind instruments and our township kids had to play on cardboard boxes and guitars made from oil tins and had to even sit on the floors in their classrooms.

“He was an outspoken activist and didn’t mince his words when it came to that. It troubled him so much that he sometimes would not participate in these workshops. Yet, he brought so much beauty and creativity to the music and his unusual way of playing his guitar was a great asset to the overall sound of the band.”

Brian said they the band’s sound was essentially “South African jazz, but in a way that included the sounds of the townships, church-influenced melodies and harmonies, exciting high-energy American bebop and swing, even classical influences”.

“We played it in a distinctly South African style because that is our roots, and like the music of perhaps Abdullah Ibrahim, Masekela, Pukwana, Barney Rachabane, Kippie Moeketsi and others, we were inspired by that. Dance in your head and reminisce about the beauty and humour and the thoughts that only South African music can evoke.

“Kintone had a sound that explored music, and its sometimes mesmeric rhythms from other parts of the world. Russell was prominent in the overall structure of these lilting melodies and harmonies. He would play guitar and flute on many of the songs.”

Violinist Louis Wald said he learnt some amazing life lessons playing with Russell. Wald wrote a poignant tribute to Russell at the time of his death and it merits being reprinted:

“I met Russell in 1978. I was 20, he was 24. He was well known as the virtuoso electric guitarist in Spirits Rejoice. He was now concentrating on a new type of music which he played, mostly finger style on a nylon string guitar and was keen to hear this music played on the violin. I had a classical violin training but was also experimenting with improvised music and therefore was sufficiently equipped to know that I was with witnessing something extraordinary.

 “The music was difficult to play. Time signatures changed regularly and often. The complex melodic lines were technically challenging. It was amazing to me that Russell was so patient and encouraging as he helped me to find my way.  His energy was boundless. He never seemed to put the guitar down. Eating, talking, smoking, travelling always in the back of a car, that pulsating sound continued uninterrupted.

“His guitar playing itself was inimitable, complex, solid and free. The music was impossible to categorise. There were hints of Segovia, Baden Powell, Abdullah Ibrahim, Egberto Gismonti and Charlie Parker. But as Pete Sklair would say when I asked to find labels, he said ‘it is simply Russell’.

 “Other musicians joined to form Estudio. These included Sklair on bass, Robbie Jansen on flute and saxophones, Tony Cedras on trumpet and piano and Qadir Khan on flute.

 “We played jazz clubs, soirées, and concert halls including the Market Theatre in Jo’burg and the City Hall in Cape Town. The response from audiences and the press was extremely enthusiastic. In Cape Town, especially people would not miss any opportunity to hear us play. Others fed us, housed us and financed us.

” For me, Russell’s music was a vehicle that allowed me to discover places in my mind and soul that I never knew existed, let alone knew how to reach. It is a tragedy that any man should die so young. There is cause to celebrate today as well. To celebrate the joy hope and self-fulfilment that one man managed to instil in so many others.”

Felicia Marian, a singer with female group Joy which was backed often by Spirits Rejoice, remembers Russell as a “deep” person and prolific talent. “He had so much love and respect for fellow musicians. I had never witnessed a musician with such dedication to his instrument and skills. He would wake up in the early hours of the morning and hide himself on the floor of the bathroom just to rehearse away from the noise. He treated his instrument as “holy”. He was indeed of a rare quality!”

Singer Leslie Kleinsmith says his abiding memory of Russell was of a man bonded to his guitar. “Whenever I bumped into him, his guitar would be hanging off his back,” Leslie recalls. “And as long as he was talking to you he would be playing his guitar.” 

That is also how I remember Russell when he used to wander into our newsroom to “have a chat”. One of six children, orphaned at a very young age, unschooled in a formal way . . . yet strong enough to make a go of things.

But it could have been so much more. Happy 70^th Russell.  Hope you’re hanging out with cool guys in the afterworld and making crazy music with Basil, Qadir, Robbie and a few others.

 

Related Articles:

Mervyn Africa: Play Us A Song, You’re The Piano Man, You’ve Got Us Feelin’ Alright

 

 

 

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