ECSTASY & IVORY
When the moment is right, piano ace Kyle Shepherd’s mind dissolves and the audience disappears. But then he has to go to the bank …
CAPE Town jazz pianist Kyle Shepherd, 26, began classical violin training at age five, switched to piano when he was 16, and began playing professionally 18 months later. His progressive compositions and compelling performances won him the 2014 Standard Bank Young Artist award for jazz. His first three albums all received Sama nominations and two more will be released this year. He performs regularly in Japan and Europe and played at the Cape Town International Jazz Festival this weekend. I was 16 when I saw Abdullah Ibrahim play the Warehouse in Sea Point. I felt I was watching a man tell his life story. I knew I could find a similar medium in piano.
I have never had a piano lesson. The piano is a beast of an instrument and when you don’t have the fundamentals, you struggle. I struggled the first few years, until I overhauled my technique about six years ago. I spoke to people, got books, watched videos and practised for hours.
I left university after one year. We were being taught how to play jazz in the corner of a restaurant while people ate their prawns. I had to sound like Horace Silver or some American, and yet I was trying to discover myself as a South African. I was told the music I loved, Zulu and Xhosa music, was unsophisticated. That’s why I had to leave. I’m not completely happy about being compared to Abdullah. People immediately compare young jazz pianists to him, even if they only resemble a minimal percentage of his influence. This is a reductionist analysis of my output. Abdullah is best known for playing marabi — an African style that comes from certain townships — on a traditional western instrument. That was his genius. I played music heavily influenced by that sound when I was younger, but my musical output is an amalgamation of so many influences — classical, modern classical, contemporary, rock. This is why I’m so excited about the new work I’m releasing this year. It’s a more complete selfportrait of my musical thoughts than any of my previous records. It’s unnerving to play to 500 people when you’re sitting alone on stage for 90 minutes. Sometimes I win that fight; sometimes I don’t, and feel inadequate. I don’t know what it’s like to be in my head when I perform. When the moment is right, it’s like a state of mindlessness; it’s a meditation, which is why jazz musicians sway like Sufis. Your mind dis- solves, your personality goes, the audience disappears. The search, the craving for that feeling, is what drives me. I have to lose myself in the music for the sake of my psychological health. There are moments when the act of composing comes easily, when things just flow. But it’s mostly a struggle to get those things out. The mundane aspects of everyday life get me down a bit. Standing at the bank. Delivering that letter. Sending off that invoice. But that’s what happens when you become a successful musician. You
have to keep those engagements coming in. It bugs me that playing the piano is the last thing I’m able to do. In an ideal week, I’ll practise about four hours a day. There’s a tendency in jazz to
overdress a performance. When you play a difficult piece, you feel really good about yourself and it’s like, wow, I can play the piano really fast. But the meaning of music goes beyond flaunting your credentials. My responsibility as a musician is to play something of worth — something that holds the light and dark sides of humanity, whether it’s technically challenging or the simplest piece of music.
I admire Joburg jazz wizard Carlo Mombelli. For me, he is one of the best examples of someone who has created intensely beautiful, profound music because it’s so personal. He’s played for years and yet he still creates music with such intensity. Sometimes, when I play with him, I’m so knocked out I can’t even play. We have so many local jazz lovers. Just look at the popularity of the Cape Town Jazz Festival. But no one has worked out why our dedicated jazz venues keep coming and going. Some musicians even have to pay to play at a venue. What nonsense is that? — Tiara Walters