A portrait photo of Kampire staring directly at the camera.
Ugandan DJ Kampire has released a new compilation with Strut Records.
Photo by Martin Kharumwa.

Kampire Unearths Vintage Eastern and Southern African Gems in This New Compilation

On A Dancefloor in Ndola, the Ugandan DJ curates and preserves the East and Southern African sound of her youth, while also advocating the preservation of African music.

When Ugandan DJ Kampire first started working on a compilation of African music for Strut Records during the pandemic, she did not expect that it would take four years for the project to see the light of day.

At that point, Kampirehad already earned her stripes as one of the founding DJs of Uganda’s popular Nyege Nyege Festival as well as a global touring sensation that introduced audiences to her impeccable curation of African music styles from the ‘70s and ‘80s and into the present day (her 2023 Boiler Room session in Mumbai comes to mind).

But curating this particular compilation was a different story. It became a process of discovery, nostalgia and growth — for her taste and her music.

“It has been a really long, four-year journey,” she tells OkayAfrica. “At some point, I stopped telling people about [the compilation] because it just sounded so ridiculous when you keep saying‘it's coming out’… and then it's not coming out!”

But now, it’s actually out. A Dancefloor in Ndola, Kampire’s debut compilation, is out as part of Strut Records’ 25th anniversary. The 12-track compilation is a sonic journey through different East and Southern African genres from Congolese rumba and soukous to ‘80s South African township bubblegum and the rich guitar-led sounds of Zambian Kalindula.

<a href="https://kampire.bandcamp.com/album/kampire-presents-a-dancefloor-in-ndola">Kampire Presents: A Dancefloor in Ndola by Kampire</a>

Over the four years, she worked closely with the label to create a project that she envisioned listeners consuming while “sitting in the grass, basking in the sun with a drink in hand.”

Achieving that goal took her through the painstaking journey of not only discovering the music she wanted to include — in fact, that was the easy part — but also the peril of trying to license and master older African music in order to, ultimately, introduce it to a modern audience that discovers and curates most of its music online.

“I was definitely looking for songs that weren't already available on streaming sites,” she says. “So to an extent, for some of these songs, it's the first time that they're going to be able to be streamed.”

But Kampire’s very presence as the curator of this collection — as a Black African woman — is already a political act. It is a shift away from the white men who have dominated the curation and preservation space of African music.

The decision was intentional. Working with Kampire was an “evolution” for Strut Records, the London-based label that has built its name in reissues, compilations and new studio albums around African, Caribbean, Latin, jazz, soul and disco for the last 25 years. In recent years, for example, they have reissued albums for South African anti-apartheid jazz trio Malombo Jazz Makers and the Balka Sound compilation that is a capsule of ‘80s Congo.

Photo by Strut Records.

Kampire’s “A Dancefloor in Ndola” cover art.

By approaching her to curate A Dancefloor in Ndola, specifically to commemorate the label’s 25th anniversary, Kampire says Strut Records is leading a shift towards using curators who are from the places the music is from.

“I think that particularly with African music, there's been this long tradition of white men from the West being the ones ‘discovering’ this music. And a lot of this is because of access, but I think that it creates quite a different feel and curation and understanding of the music when it's curated by someone from that context.”

And it shows. The compilation starts off with the catchy “O Wina Tienge” by Princess Aya Shara of Zaire. A Google search about this Congolese singer does not bring up much. There is no Wikipedia page with her history. Indeed, her only available music on streaming platforms are four singles that were remastered this year.

Princess Aya Shara of Zaire is just one of on many incredible women in African music from the ‘80s that Kampire chose to spotlight, including Congolese legends like Pembey Sheiro, Feza Shamamba and Princesse Mansia M’bila as well as South Africa’s V-Mash and Di Groovy Girls.

V-Mash was a particular favorite find for Kampire.The South African artist, whose real name was Vinolia Mashego, was better known for her roles as an actress, television host and presenter. Although she was once described as “the Bonang of the ‘90s,” little is known about her bubble gum hit, “Naughty Boy” beyond South Africa.

“I hadn't heard of her or this track before, but I was thinking about this Brenda Fassie kind of bubblegum disco era. And [“Naughty Boy”] just turned out to be such a great song that I was super happy to have it on the compilation,” says Kampire.

“I also think that she's someone who never really got her flowers,” she adds. “Just as important were the women who were part of that scene… I think it ended up being really meaningful to have all these women on the compilation.”

Ultimately, A Dancefloor in Ndola, is a tribute to the sounds of Kampire’s childhood. The name of the compilation, for example, is a heartfelt nod to the Zambian town where she spent her formative years until the age of 16. Growing up Ugandan in Zambia, with additional roots in Kenya, Kampire was exposed to a rich tapestry of African music that continues to influence her work.

"My dad was a huge Franco fan," she recalls, referencing the legendary Congolese musician Franco Luambo of TPOK Jazz. "Being immigrants or expats, we associated with various East African families and the image that I always go back to are the Christmas parties where our parents would braai some meat and have some beers, and then eventually they’d decide to entertain themselves by getting the kids to do a dance competition.So in my imagination, this is kind of the soundtrack to those parties.”

It’s this nostalgia that she is trying to capture, not just for herself, but for other Africans who have grown up influenced by a range of sounds, but may have not necessarily recognized its importance at the time.

“I think that a lot of us grew up not giving enough credit to the music where we come from. And I think that there's definitely this danger of losing what makes us who we are. So I just wanted to give credit where credit is due… bring that uniqueness and that magic and what makes us different to the foreground.”

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