Msaki & Tubatsi: Synthetic Hearts review – an update of Marvin and Tammi | Music

Afrofuturism isn’t only about science fiction and brothers and sisters from another planet, but it’s invariably about the future. Msaki, South Africa’s reigning singer-songwriter, has already released a single called We Own the Future. Here she collaborates with Tubatsi Mpho Moloi, a multi-instrumentalist from Soweto’s Urban Village, whose 2021 album, Udondolo, cleverly fused the hip-hop and house of today’s South Africa with the Zulu stomp that rocked the grim workers’ hostels back in the Apartheid era. They are joined by the gifted cellist Clément Petit, a Parisian, who provides much of the minimalist accompaniment on an album of romantic vocal duets; an update of Motown’s Marvin and Tammi, if you like.

It’s a surprising album, content to be simple and heartfelt, to croon “I love you” and entreat kisses without getting soppy, and to do so without the melisma acrobatics that afflict modern soul. Sung mostly in English, numbers such as Come In and Madonna would fit comfortably on a Sade album. The opener, Subaleka, has a gloriously catchy call – “come with me” – and builds from voices against a plucked cello to an inclusive widescreen celebration. Shot through with nature imagery, it’s a dab of utopia.

Afrofuturism isn’t only about science fiction and brothers and sisters from another planet, but it’s invariably about the future. Msaki, South Africa’s reigning singer-songwriter, has already released a single called We Own the Future. Here she collaborates with Tubatsi Mpho Moloi, a multi-instrumentalist from Soweto’s Urban Village, whose 2021 album, Udondolo, cleverly fused the hip-hop and house of today’s South Africa with the Zulu stomp that rocked the grim workers’ hostels back in the Apartheid era. They are joined by the gifted cellist Clément Petit, a Parisian, who provides much of the minimalist accompaniment on an album of romantic vocal duets; an update of Motown’s Marvin and Tammi, if you like.

It’s a surprising album, content to be simple and heartfelt, to croon “I love you” and entreat kisses without getting soppy, and to do so without the melisma acrobatics that afflict modern soul. Sung mostly in English, numbers such as Come In and Madonna would fit comfortably on a Sade album. The opener, Subaleka, has a gloriously catchy call – “come with me” – and builds from voices against a plucked cello to an inclusive widescreen celebration. Shot through with nature imagery, it’s a dab of utopia.