South African cellist, singer, and composer Abel Selaocoe blends Western classical traditions with African rhythms and vocal styles, pushing what’s possible with his instrument. His second album, Hymns of Bantu, is out now, and he describes it as a celebration of home with messages of love and communal kindness.
Selaocoe grew up in a township outside Johannesburg, where access to classical music was limited. However, his brother was dedicated to learning music, and took them to a music school in Soweto which offered a kids’ program on weekends.
Selaocoe says he was attracted to the cello because he looked up to the teacher, Kutlwano Masote. Masote had a nontraditional approach to the instrument.
He adds, “There was also this idea that this instrument can not only play classical music, but it can really be a part of your culture. So we began playing a lot of African hymns and stuff on it. So already that was a very exciting idea. And I think he opened up those channels. So living between classical music and African music was actually from the beginning.”
Selaocoe says at least six students shared two cellos, so no one could take one home. That meant having no instruments on weekends.
But Selaocoe still practiced — using a “paper cello.” He explains, “[My brother] learned the system of the cello, and he would write the four strings and four lines on a piece of paper. … And we'd put different letters to it. So the first string of the cello is an A, the second is a D, the third is a G, and the fourth is a C. And you'd take this piece of paper and you'd stick it to your chest, with some cello tape or something. And you just imagine that you are playing the motions of the cello. So you know where your fingers are going. And we had to imagine the sound.”
Selaocoe sang the notes during this process. “When things are difficult, I sing them first and then figure it out on the instrument.”
Selaocoe learned how to sing at a young age. He explains that his parents had a song for every task, feeling, and ceremony. “I think singing in South Africa is not really a profession. It's just like show that you are part of a community.”
On the track “Takamba,” Selaocoe explains that he relaxes his throat to reach a lower octave — a technique born from traditional singing styles.
“One of the biggest traditional musics in South Africa … it’s called umngqokolo, basically a tribal type of singing, sung by women, actually, for different ceremonies. And I just took that and created a bit of a contemporary feel around it.”
Growing up, Selaocoe attended a prestigious prep school called St. John's College in Johannesburg, before moving to Manchester in the United Kingdom to attend conservatory. That was a “wild experience and a bit of a cultural shock,” he recalls.
“Arriving in the U.K., I think the biggest surprises were the incredible standard of music, and also that so many people had come from everywhere in the world to come and be themselves. It's such an amazing thing. The biggest metropolis and collection of characters that I'd ever come across at the time.”
Compared to St. John’s College, the U.K. allowed Selaocoe to explore his roots and cultural heritage more as “everybody had this permission to consistently be themselves.”
“Playing the cello, there's so many of us playing the same music, and I had to find my identity within that. I think that's where I found that freedom,” he adds.
To stand out on the cello, Selaocoe incorporates percussion and improvisation.
“I've worked quite hard to imitate certain instruments on the cello. I think this is where we get to the realm of using the cello as a tool rather than a historical artifact. And I've listened so much to so many different types of African music, and so when I combine it, basically I sometimes use a bit of mouth percussion, but I've also learned some bow techniques that helped me make much more percussive sounds on the cello.”
When Selaocoe works with classical musicians, some are open to his style, while others take some coaxing.
“I think with anybody who creates things that people are not used to, there's sometimes a little bit of resistance, and that's completely okay. But I think the main part that everybody shares is that when something is musically powerful, there's no disputing it. … Something about the messaging of the music, about the technique or playing it, and how to pull that off, can be very palpable to classical musicians, and it's just about sharing it.”
The song “Emmanuele” celebrates people who work with their hands. The lyrics (translated into English) capture the sentiment that, “We'll always have food on the table as long as we know how to use our hands.”
“I got that advice very much from my mom. She was like, ‘We are not rich, but we will never allow ourselves to starve because God gave us hands.’ So she was always a laborer, and so was my dad as well. So it just made me realize that, yeah, that's to be celebrated, and I use my hands for a living too,” Selaocoe says.