Gito Baloi’s third album – a tribute to his late father, Serafirm – consists of thirteen compositions culled ‘from hundreds’ of songs written and recorded between 1998 and 2001, and with a variety of musicians. His bass playing here is never anything less than masterful – his tone is, with a single exception, bright and full, his melodies beautifully structured and executed, his solos committed and ‘straight from the heart’ (as on Tiva, dedicated to his second daughter, where he really permits himself to let loose). To my ears, admittedly, the album is a bit of a patchy affair, compositionally and in terms of recording. The piano on Tiva has all the murkiness of what we used to understand by ‘home recording’, the programming on track 6, Zumba Funky, leaves a considerable amount to be desired, and on Sad Melody the bass has a very tinny sound. The version of Ntyilo Ntyilo is both schmaltzy and pompous – this is one track definitely to be avoided. (I would have loved to hear a solo bass take on this essentially pretty traditional piece.) I have never been a huge fan of the three-chord major-tonality tunes characteristic of many traditional and popular southern African musics. There are a fair number of these on Herbs & Roots – but the album also contains what are probably my most cherished tunes by Gito. My personal favourite is Verdade (the tune with which Gito and his band opened his SA Bassplayers website launch party gig at the Bassline), a simply gorgeous melody over a reggae groove that has ‘standard’ written all over it. The three tracks that follow, too, are highly listenable. The title track features Dave Reynolds on steel pans and Vaughan Tromp on sax. Vaughan also co-wrote Harrow Road, on which sax and bass perform the push-&-shove, call-&-response of taxis in traffic. Sad Melody, too, is a strong piece, despite the tinny bass – Gito’s voice here is hauntingly beautiful. Drone, the last track, is my second favourite piece, an evocative meditation that features the never less than compelling Marcus Wyatt on trumpet and flugelhorn, in an appropriate finale.

Missiles (get it?) by Kerry Hiles is a sunny six-track affair, though not without its dark and slightly more disturbing moments. Bartholomew Street (inspired by her aunt’s abode in Grahamstown) is a Fairground Attraction-type of folk-pop waltz with swirling strings. In fact, the Fairground Attraction/ Eddi Reader ‘influence’ (I don’t know if it is that, conscious or subconscious) is also audible on Lover’s Knot, a ditty whose cheerful swing disguises the underlying conflict situation referred to in the title and elaborated on in the clever, catchy lyrics. Former Jazz Ace Roy Burrows is featured here on genre-appropriate clarinet. Sending my Love (written, I seem to recall, by David ‘Doggit’ Manchip for his sister who resides in the US) is a rhythmically and harmonically complex piece, without ever sounding contrived, enhanced by intelligent double-tracked juxtaposition of chorus and middle 8. Our Love is one of my two favourites on the album: a sensual, deep-funky paean to carnal fulfillment, with a pertinently snaky bass line (which Kerry pulls off live, vocal and all!). Salesman is another favourite, a sinister little piece with a deceptively bright chorus reminiscent of Carly Simon. Lyrically, too, it is captivating; the punch line alone is worth listening out for. The closest Miss ‘iles gets to rock chick mode is on Insane. Yet here, too, she avoids the trappings of obvious harmonic movement and trite lyrics, opting for a funky verse/ bridge section before rocking out on the choruses. David Manchip’s engineering, remarkable contributions on guitar, keyboards and programming, and in terms of composition and production, complete a mini album on which there is not a single dodgy cut. (Doggit, by the way, is the writer of a near-perfect 70-second bass piece entitled ‘I wish’ – which is not on this album, but which he will hopefully release in some form before long.)

In a sense, the debut release by Concord Nkabinde is a concept album. Early 70s clichés and pretensions almost ruined the concept of a concept album (with the notable exception, say, of What’s Going On? and Dark Side of the Moon), but Concord – whether or not this is intentional – manages to resurrect it and reestablish its viability. Bookended by Peace on the Wind, his debut album is a celebration of interculturalism, peace, tolerance, respect, and a plethora of musical and spiritual influences. Yet, there is strong sense of identity, a ‘narrative thread’, so to speak, that pervades the album. Essentially a pop record, it contains an abundance of catchy lyrics, infectious rhythms and haunting melodies. Concord is much more concerned with getting the listener to move than with impressing her/ him with dazzling displays of virtuosity. (Which he manages to do anyway: not only his bass playing throughout but his vocals and production skills, too, are frequently astounding.) As on Herbs & Roots, there are several three-chord-type tunes on this album that I personally enjoy less. For example, after an impressive opening, The Hola Song just meanders along and would have benefited from some judicious editing. But these are minor gripes: there is much to enjoy here! Personal favourites are Peace on the Wind, the thematic opening, U make me fly (featuring Janine Price on vocals), No Seed no Life (Concord on gorgeous fretless), Canciones de Amor (with Gito on vocals and a tasteful bass workout by Concord), Sitting on Top of the World (a vocal collaboration with Lili Feng), Africa (iThemba Lethu) (featuring Brendan Ross on soprano sax, Seppo Kantonen on piano and Efrain Toro on percussion) and Let the Walls fall down (featuring Janine Price and some more impressive solo bass work).

It is on a note, simultaneously, of great regret and also exuberant optimism that I end this review. Even though he has left us with an impressive body of work that is going to inspire us for years to come, the mere fact that that we have lost Gito will continue to pain and sadden us. On a positive note, there is much to look forward to: like Kerry and Concord’s follow-up albums, after two hugely enjoyable debuts.