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Let's Get Local Team

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A locally-built app is trying to pull the city’s cultural life out of the global feed and into something human-curated. The idea is overdue. Whether the city shows up is the open question.

Every Cape Town musician knows the maths. You have a show. You try to think of a clever, unique, ‘authentic’ post that will cut through the algorithm. You post it. Then, to guarantee that people  actually see the post on the platform where you built your following, you pay. And the audience you are paying to reach sits inside a feed that also wants to show them, in Benji Anstey‘s words, “American bands, British comedians, Japanese politicians, and the world more broadly.”

Glastonfurry is comfortably the loudest thing anyone in Cape Town will do for stray cats and dogs all year. On Heritage Day, the fundraiser lands at Woodstock Brewery for its seventh edition, a day of metal and hardcore with BEAST at the top of the bill, every cent going to the Cape of Good Hope SPCA. The noise is the easy part to write about. What happens to the money once the last band packs down is worth noting, and it goes even further than you might expect. 

If everyone is alternative then nothing is alternative

Damian Strydom doesn’t sugarcoat what it costs to run an independent tour through towns most acts skip. “Funding and sponsorship is a bust. False promises and kak praat. Doen dit jouself!” he says. He has toured this country the hard way with his band Onskuldige Doodsvonnis: played shitty bars, got beaten up by biker gangs, slept in cars. “If you look at the numbers it doesn’t make sense to do it, but it’s taking that risk and that leap of faith and doing it nonetheless.”

Feastival’s Cabo Women’s Day edition served up a good night of music. What stayed with us was how safe it felt, and in Cape Town that counts for more than it should have to.

A bride arrived blindfolded. Her friends walked her in, pulled it off, and the group was dancing before she had her bearings. That only happens when a crowd feels safe, and safety was the story of Feastival’s Women’s Day edition.

The panic says the machines are winning. The numbers say almost nobody is streaming what they make. The bigger question in South Africa is whose work those models were trained on.

More than half of the music uploaded to Deezer every day is now fully AI-generated. That is the platform’s own figure, roughly 90,000 machine-made tracks a day, more than two million a month. If you have spent time in a Spotify Discover playlist or deep in a TikTok feed lately, you have already met a few. Competent and convincing, catchy even, and made by no one in particular. No one played on them. A prompt and a dataset did the work. 

Scenes don’t survive on venues and streaming numbers alone. They survive on transmission, one player putting something into the hands of the next, over years, with no certificate at the end of it.

Dr Madala Kunene is the Durban guitarist revered as the king of Zulu guitar, a maskandi-rooted elder who spent decades building a style entirely his own. Sibusile Xaba is a guitarist and singer a generation younger, one of the more adventurous voices working in that tradition today. Kunene took him on as a protégé years ago, and mentor and mentee have since become collaborators. Xaba’s decade alongside him is one of the clearest examples of that we have.

Cape Town doesn’t get a steady stream of international tours. It comes in waves.

A few quiet months. Then suddenly: a cluster. A venue locked in. A genre moment. A reminder that while the city is still figuring out how to sustain its own music economy, it can still pull serious global names when the system aligns.

Here’s every international artist currently confirmed for Cape Town across 2026 (and what each booking actually says about the city right now).