Nightmares on Wax Video Interview. Produced by: Connect Everything Collective Media (CECZA). Filmed and edited by: Lloyd Metcalfe. Interviewed by: Candice Erasmus. Special thanks to: Keegan Foreman, Boogie Vice and Stefan Sands

My first question to George is about how it all started, which seems cliche but is easily one of the most important questions I’ve ever asked an artist; he takes me through a space in time of being a young kid, growing up in Leeds – who at a very early age, developed an unrelenting appetite for music, influenced by the impact of early Reggae soundsystem culture that emanated through his neighbourhood.  

“My friends brother had Reggae soundsystem called Messiah” which George explains was stored in the basement of his school; being 8 years old and not being able to attend the parties hosted by local legends, he and his friends would listen from outside clubs, hearing the windows rattle; absorbing the audio waves and describing the scene as being “close but far”.

George goes on; “Then, in 1982, hip hop happened – it entered into my life and the common thread was there already. I was a rude boy, a mod, I was really into ska and  fashion. My sister was a disco dancer and she would win competitions, a 12 inch or a cassette of the DJ’s playing, but the real thing that swept me was hip hop. I was seeing this thing that was so far away, hearing this music that sounded like it came from another planet but I didn’t know what it was, it was like being drip fed, getting little glimpses on TV, little news flashes of what was happening in New York”

The biggest and most defining moment at that time for George, he explains, was the record “‘Buffalo gals’ by Malcolm McLaren, because within that, not just the song, the music video that came out – there were the 5 elements of hip hop in there and that was it, that changed the game for me”. 

Through the years that followed, George continued on his melomaniac endeavours in spite of personal tribulations and reflects that “I had hip hop, I had my crew” and upon a chance visit to Bradford, he met Kevin Harper who later ended up being his partner in Nightmares On Wax “Kevin was the first person I had ever seen scratch on his Mom’s hi-fi and I was like ‘you’ve got to show me how to do that’. 

Following this intro, George became part of a breakdancing crew called ‘Soul of City Rockers’ – safe to say that school was out of the picture at this time. With the bravado of hip hop encouraging the young prodigy to believe that anything is possible, this resulted in his formidable experimentation of sampling, making mega mixes on cassettes at 14 years old.

“How did the name Nightmares on Wax come about?”

George reflects on the year 1986, at age 16 mixing with John; “We started doing these mega mixes together and we made a mix one day that had Humphrey Bogart, Laurel and Hardy and all this mad film score stuff on there – and John said to me ‘This sounds like a fucking nightmare’ and I said ‘yeah, on wax’ and we were like, we could call ourselves that. John said it could maybe sound a bit negative but I figured it could be the notion of turning out your wildest dreams, on vinyl” 

Following John’s parting from the duo a short while after, George and his earlier music comrade, Kevin Harper, became NOW and landed a residency at a local club, promoting their student nights. The music that they played, samples and original tracks, was so well received it caused pandemonium amongst their local scene of party go-ers and so began a very special era. The duo used all their wages to buy records and immerse themselves in the knowledge of hip hop composition and after unsuccessfully trying to land record deals, in between a trip to New York, George realised they would have to put their record out themselves. Borrowing £400, as well as  a friend’s drivers licence – they pressed out and delivered 2000 records to local stores across the country and sold out in two weeks. 

This all happened during the Summer of 89’, which was referred to in the UK as ‘the summer of love’ due to the explosion of ecstasy usage and rave culture among the youth – what a time to make a big break on the music scene – when football hooligans and ravers collided. Although never (really) partaking in the anarchy, George reflects on this time as being one of the most important summers ever – going from “a crew in the hood” to playing for crowds of more than 10 000 people. NOW was the second release on Warp Records, in 1989. Their first full length album, ‘A World of Science’ (also released on Warp) debuted in 1991. Following this, is an incredible discography of genre bending sonic delight. 

The evolution, production and distribution of music has changed rapidly since the early years of NOW’s and George’s inception, so I am curious to ask:
“When you look at that era of music, where you started, records and vinyl, cassettes, music being discovered in the club, maybe some radio airplay versus now where we have streaming, Spotify, accessibility, YouTube etc. – which era do you think serves the artist better?” 

To which George responds, “The internet is amazing and has served many people, including me personally, in such a magnificent way. The issues that have come from that are accessibility; that collecting music and records, discovering samples, has become devalued. I look at my record collection and I know the journey I took to get that record. At the same time, the accessibility of people being able to hear your music all across the globe, in the most remote places is a beautiful thing and has definitely kept my music alive”.

George explains that “the album came out in 2006 and a year later, it was used by Gorillaz in a mix of Pandora – by the end of 2008 the track was number 1 on Beatport for close on 2 years and I think it went back to number 1 in 2011,” recounting its success appears to be incredibly surprising to George, which again reiterates the humble nature of his creative essence. 

We chat further about the letter George wrote to Quincy Jones to clear the “Summer in The City” – sample which is used as an inspirational evolution from “Night’s Interlude” into its later version of “Les Nuits”, the iconic dreamy soundscape that transcends the soul, recorded with a 52 piece orchestra. For your listening pleasure, here. 

As we move to a close of our interview, I ask a few questions from two fellow artists. First up, Valentin Barbier AKA Boogie Vice asks George “What is your relationship with sampling – do you use it more as a starter for grooves and melodies or to add texture to tracks that you’ve created with synths and drums?” to which George says, “For me, it’s what catches my ear and then curiosity of why it catches my ear and then what I think I can hear. I’m always looking for the ghost in the sample, not necessarily what’s prominent. The ghost is where I start picking out melodies where I work re-creating or creating melodies that aren’t actually there. It’s more about pulling exploration out – sometimes I build a song and then remove a sample. All musicians are inspired by other musicians”

Then, Richard Marshall asks, “For me, your music has always been tinged with Balearic sounds; coming from Leeds, what inspired your sunset style of music production? Was it from travel, listening to other music?” with George reflecting that, “I’d say my upbringing and the music that I’ve collected, some people have coined my music as ‘bottled sunshine’ which I find quite funny because the music they were referencing was from Carboot Soul and Smokers Delight – which when I look back on where I was in my life, when I made that music – there were actually some really dark times. It’s interesting how the soul responds to these things.  When I was making Smokers Delight, the flat I lived in was upstairs, no heating, I was sitting with two jackets on trying to keep warm. there was obviously a yearning for something warmer and lighter” we laugh at George’s sentiments on how being too blissed out, in an idyllic setting, can also ironically hinder music making.

I could carry on writing an essay about the time we spent together, but more than a subjective viewpoint of someone who I deeply admire, it needs to be noted as a fact that George Evelyn undoubtedly revolutionised music and a sound that defies any genre. Now that we’ve chatted, I know why it’s so hard to categorise his music; because it’s full of life, experience, beauty, craftsmanship, soul and intention and perhaps this is the reason why it has spanned across a musical evolution of over 30 years. 

It’s easy, when you’re a fan, to name anyone a master of their craft – but in this circumstance, it’s not an opinion. It’s written on wax.

My last question to George is, “What is your biggest vice?” To which he answers,

“Love”. 

Our full video interview with George Evelyn will be released soon. 

Follow: Nightmares on Wax 

Jenny Dison AKA Wata Mami is somewhat of an enigma. It’s not every day that a serious musician — with a background in cult indie bands such as Bye Beneco, Psychedelic Rock band Sol Gems or sonic projects like LUMA with members of the BLK JKS (if you know, you know – one of South Africa’s most important punk bands to ever exist, if I do say so myself) — finds that her truest and foremost love as a musician is DJing. DJing has gained incredible notoriety in the last few years, and while it’s always been a coveted subculture — since its inception in the late 1970s — there’s long been a tangible distinction in the minds of musical artists between the two crafts. DJing is something that can be done by anyone; it is naturally democratic in this way, while most other forms of music require a certain kind of discipline or training. In this way, it’s kind of subversive that Jenny’s foray into music ended up behind a booth, when she commanded all manner of mics and instruments at local and international arenas and festivals. As I’ll later learn from Jenny, there is a freedom in DJing beyond the centering of self that makes it totally immersive as a musical or artistic practice. 

Under her moniker Wata Mami, Jenny Dison’s evolution as an artist has been anything but linear. Her sounds — fluid, soulful, and rhythmically curious — draw from disco, house, and the deep reverbs of global electronica. Over the years, she has become a mainstay in Johannesburg and Cape Town’s underground scenes, grafting hard to carve out her place and uplift others within it. At the centre of it all is Jenny’s commitment to sound and self-expression — and, as we each conclude in our conversation with each other,  the abiding recognition that music and movement on a dance floor are human birthrights. Literally, good for our health. 

Jenny describes her entry into music as “a happy accident”, and somewhat pre-destined, as someone clearly born for the stage. “I was studying drama and film and always thought I’d go into the arts,” she recalls, “maybe become a writer or an actress — all the big dreams of a young person.” That trajectory shifted when she and a few classmates started Bye Beneco, a band that quickly grew into a national phenomenon and remains sonically and aesthetically emblematic of the early 2010s in all its glorious, hyper-popish indie dreamscaping. “We actually dropped out of university to get the band going — it became quite a big thing. We signed to a record label and toured with our first album all over South Africa.” 

“It’s so crazy, though, because my first love was DJing before I was ever in a band or a musician.” Jenny muses, reflecting on her early twenties, and how she began experimenting with sound in small Johannesburg bars. “We’d go out to Greenside — people were literally burning CDs and playing them at these bars. And I was just like, wow, I really want to do that. I love music. I have a musical family. And I feel like this is such a cool way to express myself.”

After years in bands, stints in advertising, and a long creative search, Jenny returned full circle to what always anchored her. “It’s only in the last six years I’ve really started taking DJing more seriously — it’s the thing that’s always stuck with me through all my career choices. Now I do it full time — I teach DJing, I teach production, I run events. It’s become the thing that holds everything else together.”

For Jenny, DJing has never been about ego or authorship; “I love the fact that oftentimes you’re not playing your own music,” she says. “You’re showing appreciation for the music that inspires you and the music that you feel will have an impact on the crowd.” What draws Jenny in is the act of translation and guiding the atmosphere, emotion, and memory through other people’s sounds. “Even if you’re there just to make people dance,” she adds, “there needs to be some kind of golden thread. I believe my set should tell some kind of story. To me, DJing is music journalism. It’s archiving and collecting music, investigating sounds and artists.”

Jenny speaks about DJing with equal parts reverence and realism, noting that “yes, it’s a responsibility being a DJ and holding space and making people move, but at the same time, it’s important not to get an ego or put so much pressure on yourself that you start thinking, oh my god, I’m responsible for everyone’s vibe.” As a non-DJ, I’ve always imagined the role as something almost shamanic — the DJ as guide, translator, energy worker. A tall order, I know and Jenny gently disarms this idea, reminding me that the best sets are actually the ones in which control dissolves into flow, and which the DJ allows themselves to become simply another body in the room, caught in the same pulse as everyone else. “The best moments on the dance floor are when the DJ is just grooving and feeding into the energy. It’s about the music. It’s about the people.” 

Still, that space has not always been easy to claim, and as Jenny reminds me; “Especially as a female artist — not only in South Africa but globally — there’s been lack of women on lineups, or they have become tokenised which is also not helpful in the fight to be taken seriously as a femme artist” she says, of this perennial issue of equality. So, to counter this and assert her agency, Jenny is deliberate about how and where she plays. “I’m very conscious of making sure that if I say yes to a gig, I know that the lineup is diverse and that I’m not the only woman on it,” she says. Jenny laughs as she calls the term female DJ “such a diss, honestly. We’re just DJs.” The label is a reminder that what is considered “neutral” in music has long been coded male, and to insist on the qualifier is to subtly mark women as exceptions rather than equals, when in reality, we have always been there — playing, producing, and shaping sound.

In recent years, though, the tides have begun to turn. Festivals like Pangea, Jenny explains, have become powerful examples of what happens when inclusivity is intentionally and effortlessly ascribed, over any kind of tokenism. “At Pangea, I think there were more female artists than men. They don’t release lineups — it’s all about stumbling across artists, removing ego. The female energy of that festival carried through the whole weekend; it was just this powerful force — everywhere I went, badass female artists performing. It felt like a wonderland.” To Jenny, this marks the natural evolution of a scene that’s finally recognising its own depth; and what a welcome shift that is, that the floor belongs to everyone.

If there’s one thing Jenny is certain of, it’s that the South African music scene is alive with momentum. “There are more interesting, thought-provoking, intentional events happening — and I’m so lucky to be part of those lineups,” she says. “The reason my career is where it is, is because there’s momentum in the South African music industry — it’s not exclusive to me, it means we’re all elevating.” For her, curiosity matters more than credentials, and she explains that DJing is so open-ended; “your origin story as a DJ can simply be, I fucking love music,” she says. “A good DJ is someone inquisitive about music, that’s all.” Cape Town, Jenny adds, has proven to be the perfect incubator. “It has such a big music scene for such a small town — it’s really conducive to dance floors and DJs. We’re very lucky. 

“Dance floors are healing spaces. It’s where we go to express ourselves and release so much,” Jenny notes. “At Pangea, I didn’t feel a bad vibe from anyone — people were so engaged and open.” For Jenny, that energy is the result of organisers and promoters who are committed to cultivating safety, inclusivity, and intention. The most memorable nights, she says, are the ones where people feel held by the space as much as they are moved by the music.

There’s a growing movement in South Africa toward more conscious, connected nightlife — day events, intimate listening sessions, community-driven parties — all rooted in the idea that collective joy is an essential part of human wellbeing. On dancing and music as a human birthright, we agree; and Jen and note that when dance and sound are treated as communal practices, something transformative happens: people listen better, move differently, and begin to experience belonging in real time. For Jenny, that’s the point. “We need more joy, more celebration — and that’s what I love about DJing. It’s my time to celebrate other artists as well. I don’t want it to be about me; I want it to be about the dance floor and the people and the music.”

As she looks ahead, Jenny speaks with deep gratitude for Diskotekah — the Cape Town-based queer led collective that has been instrumental in reshaping the city’s nightlife. Their vision represents what the future of music culture should look like: open, celebratory, and community-first. Jenny recalls how “as I moved to Cape Town four years ago, they  took me under their wing, no questions asked, their faith in me has pushed me to be a better DJ.” Diskotekah’s dance floors are spaces of expression and safety, in which joy and care are embedded with everything. Alongside this is Jenny’s reverence for Tourmaline Berg, who cuts something of a mythic figure as a South African music mutha and cultural anchor. It’s a reminder that we are always carried by those who believe in us, in our potential, and in the culture we build together.

Next up? Despite Jenny’s history as a musician — “playing instruments, making my own music, featuring on producer tracks” — many people still encounter Jenny only through her sets. Now, she’s ready to merge those worlds again. “I want to bring more artistry into my DJing — to start singing, playing keys, and adding instruments to my sets. The dance floors need a little bit more live music. I have exciting gigs coming up, like playing at Fabric Cape Town. This January, a dream come true where I’ll be opening for Horse-Meat-Disco.” From rites of sonic passage, to things she can’t yet disclose; Jenny was born to help you groove, and what a special gift this is. Watch this space.

Listen to Jenny’s Pangea mix here.

You can catch Wata Mami live this season:
Tropical Disko Day Festival — 20 December
FABRIC Cape Town  — 10 January
Bazique Festival — March 2026
AfrikaBurn — 2026

Written by Holly Beaton

For more news, visit the Connect Everything Collective homepage www.ceconline.co.za

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