BLACK PLASTIC POSSE (BPP)

The Black Plastic Project is a conceptual design project investigating the stories around the covers of South African Township Pop records released between 1974 and 1994. Beginning with Dollar Brand’s Mannenberg (considered to be the first black-owned pop record), just before the 1976 Uprising, it traces the last decades of apartheid through the images of pop music, finishing in 1994 with the start with democracy, when vinyl pressing ended at height of Kwaito.

The images on the covers reveal a unique language of a local modernity. They provide insight into an often forgotten but industrious local pop culture that developed alongside and wove through the anti-apartheid political activity. Rather than a comprehensive journalistic exercise, the project is proposed as a book of curated anecdotes that render a more impressionistic history of the irrepressible nature of Pop Culture in the face of political repression. It compliments this with a number of intimate personal reflections by prominent South African writers around various themes, such as Crime, Fashion, Sport and Commerce that the project engages with. These are coupled with a highly self-conscious treatment of the images. Through the application of various reductive strategies and interventions, a new, contemporary essence of an image emerges that begins to correlate, contrast and amplify the text.

Black Plastic is being produced by Laurence Hamburger, Francesco Mbele and Tsholofelo Tselaemang under the umbrella of Conflict of Interest (COI), a creative collective concerned with material and projects that reflect the intersection of pop, politics and art.

The truth is not mine alone – it is also someone else’s lies.

Sipho “Hotstix” Mabuse,
Musician, interview with Laurence Hamburger, 2010.

Public displays of affection were pretty non- existent, really, and it was probably only on a weekend, probably on a Sunday after church, when the concept of love would actually come out in the open; when people had some time to look each other in the eye. The only time when that stuff would come out was when the music was playing, always with the music… In truth, I still believe that one true escape is when you’re listening to that one favourite track. Nothing else really gives you that. Even today, with all its multi-media, nothing really liberates in the same way as that one, favourite track. So in the context of the township… you can imagine the impact and meaningfulness, and comfort of that one favourite track. And to me, that is the story of Township Pop.

Jerry Mpufane, Businessman and Marketing Executive, interview with Laurence Hamburger, 2011.

After the late 60s, Soweto became a tribe all of its own.

Shado Twala, DJ, Talk Show host and journalist, in conversation with Laurence Hamburger, 2011.

Joburg is the place – our perception of urban does not include everybody else. We don’t copy from anybody. The lifestyle, the dances; the modern urban dances – they all start in Joburg. All of them start in Soweto and then they spread throughout, for ages it’s been like that. We would know from the way you dress whether you’re from Joburg or not.

The late Peter Makurube, Jhb-based journalist and music collector, interview with Laurence Hamburger, 2011.

The concept of style as a distinct category is something that was introduced to me later in life. You could describe it as the way one addresses themselves to address others. The way in which you choose to show up creates a sense of occasion out of mundane moments, and even the worst of times. When I look at photographs of my parents in the 80s, it’s hard to imagine that this was happening in the midst of several crimes against humanity of which their friends themselves were victims of. Yet somehow their shoes matched their belts, which matched their earrings. The children ate KFC in the background, music was playing and they danced.

Zandile Tisani, filmmaker, for Black Plastic, 2023.

I remember when I realised that there were no more Kwaito records in the shops. I had missed out on the mid 90s records which were free if you just managed to take yourself to the record companies’ offices to pick them up. These then became difficult to find so I got spooked! I started buying and swapping records whenever I could. These unlabelled records have, in an interesting way, connected me with DJ culture from around the country. A lot of DJs used to personalise their records with some kind of mark or a word, others would burn a hole in the middle with solder and the more professional ones would even have a stamp made. I’ve bought records because I trusted the DJ’s taste even though there’s no trace of an artist and song title. There are the occasions where a record is marked with what is now a throwback phase from the 90s. Sometimes I’m unsure about the artist and title so I tell myself  “I must play ‘Condomise be wise’ side 2”.

Paul Waxon, DJ, for Black Plastic, 2023.

My journey starts with when we were moving from Meadowlands to Spruitview. My parents had just built a house in Spruitview. This was 1989. I don’t know how this was actually arranged because we got there and the house wasn’t finished and my dad said: “we can’t really live here”. We drove back to Meadowlands and we had to make a quick plan and for a couple of months we rented two backrooms and a garage in Pimville. What I remember about the day we moved to Pimville was three loads; one and a half were furniture and the rest was my dad’s records, which were in the house and some of them were in the backyard in these big, zinc containers that used to carry coal. I remember how distraught he was at having to give away most of that collection because there wasn’t any space in the rooms that we were moving to. But also how some of them were kept outside and they got warped because they were in the sun and they got rained on and they got really damaged. Out of those we kind of managed to salvage maybe about ten in the long run, like after all the moves. After he passed away in 1997, I remember just going through his stuff and what was left of the records. In that collection I remember there was the Harari album, Rufaro and Natural Rhythm by Abdullah Ibrahim – which are some of my favourite record albums. That’s created a really strong connection between me and my dad because he was quite strict when I grew up, and so seeing all of these things that tell a story about who he was and his taste, kind of builds bridges between me and him.

Sifiso Khanyile, filmmaker and archivist, interview with Laurence Hamburger, 2011.