It starts quietly: a few artists pulling their catalogues, a few more muttering about payouts and principles. But lately, the volume has risen. From Cape Town to Copenhagen, the whisper of “maybe I should leave Spotify” has turned into a full-blown chorus.
These days, too many events feel designed for people who drift in, snap a few photos, and leave before the night really begins. The music becomes background, the crowd thins by midnight, and the promise of connection gets lost somewhere between the bar and the DJ booth.
A few years ago, landing a track on RapCaviar was akin to winning the lottery. Today, the same placement feels closer to a consolation prize. Streams are down, algorithms are up, and the machinery of music discovery is quietly being re-engineered while artists attempt to keep pace.
By the time the last question was asked last Saturday afternoon, you could feel it: nobody wanted to leave. In a city where meaningful conversations about music often happen in snatched greenroom chats or late-night WhatsApp groups, VERVE’s latest workshop at Obz Books gave Cape Town’s creative community a rare chance to sit down together — artists, managers, journalists, and curious fans alike — and be heard.
It’s tempting to start this piece with “despite the odds” or “against the grain.” But let’s not. Because here’s the truth: femme-presenting artists in Cape Town and beyond aren’t breaking into the music scene — they’re helping build it. And if you’re not paying attention, you’re not just missing the moment. You’re missing the movement.
It was a simple question, but the answer sparked a storm. When DJ Speedsta asked Cape Town-born rapper K.Keed to freestyle live on his 5FM show, she refused with a calm but firm, “Let’s not do that.” Instead of letting the moment pass, Speedsta pressed her again — igniting a debate that has since spilled far beyond the studio walls.
On a warm Cape Town afternoon, Lynn Cupido is somewhere between tending to her indoor plants and building worlds out of sound. The two might seem worlds apart, but for the 28-year-old singer-songwriter, model, and dancer, both are acts of care — both demand patience, intention, and an openness to growth.
When Nasty C announced the relaunch of Tall Racks as a digital platform for independent artists about a week ago, it landed with real momentum. The platform’s Instagram account has already amassed over 100,000 followers, proving significant interest — not just in the brand, but in the solution it’s promising.
On 9 August, The Dinner Club returns for its second edition, this time inside the M&M Music Academy in Sunningdale. Unlike its debut in 2024, this one isn’t just centred around the food. Built around a full live jazz programme, the event puts music front and centre — framed not as background entertainment but as a key part of the evening’s design.
When Kristi Lowe first released a song into the world, she wasn’t thinking about airplay or playlists. She was fifteen, navigating an impossible family crisis, and music was a lifeline. Her debut single I Need More Time, written with her older sister Jenna and produced with local electronic heavyweights GoodLuck, was less of a career launch and more of a call to action — one that South Africans answered, sending the song up the iTunes charts in a matter of hours.
