Coven Presents the ‘Resurrection’: A Party Prioritising Nostalgia and Belonging

May 7, 2025 | Lifestyle, Community

According to COVEN, a new Cape Town-based collective, “Club culture is not dead — it’s simply on life support and in dire need of a resurrection.”

COVEN co-founders and event organisers Nabeel and Taahirah aim to provide a space where attendees feel a strong sense of belonging at their immersive events. The collective strives to give birth to a new age that celebrates the magic in the mundane, and to remind individuals that reality is not something to be fixed — it’s something to be felt. 

As of May this year, COVEN presents ‘Resurrection’, a party which prioritises belonging and connectedness with a strong sonic emphasis on nostalgia. About their first party taking place on 17 May, COVEN says, “The idea was to host a throwback party, with the focus on genres of music that used to dominate the club scene back in the day. We personally struggle to enjoy what is currently on offer as the party scene feels so homologized and sanitized. The music at almost all of the parties we’ve been to in the last two years feels like BPM wars and it’s never any songs we know. That’s where our idea stemmed from. We wanted to throw a party to resurrect club culture, hence the name ‘Resurrection’.”

Their narrative aims to be a full-scale rebellion of the norm. Most importantly, COVEN provides the space to dance to the music you love and miss. They’ve structured the sets as such: three sets of R&B/Hip Hop/POP club classics, one set of electro house, Eurodance and topping it off with a set of Vocal Trance (all of the song choices will be focused on the classics 1997 – 2015). The DJ lineup features a host of prolific acts like Keagan Chad, Ray Bennett, Queezy, Kdollaz. 

All imagery courtesy of Coven
Nabeel and Taahirah share, “We wanted to throw a party to resurrect club culture. Initially, we found it very difficult to find our feet and plan this event as we’re both just regular people who aren’t part of the music or event space. We have given this a lot of thought and especially wanted to work with  DJ’s to create sets that are cohesive but also offer attendees some variety.” They also emphasise that their main aim is to create a diverse lineup that appeals to a wider audience as this would be a party for everyone who loves good music and is yearning for nostalgia. “A party for the people at a decent sized venue where ticket prices are reasonable and everyone is guaranteed to have a good time as an alternative to the international acts which are cool but always cost an arm and a leg”, Nabeel illustrates.

To Coven, representation means more than just aesthetics and imagery; it’s etched in the fibre of who the collective is and aspires to be. They are constantly looking toward leading the charge toward inclusivity and change.

Event details:

Date: 17 May 2025

Location: District, 61c Harrington Street, District Six, Cape Town

Time: 20:00 till late

Genres: R&B, Hip Hop, pop, Electro-House, Eurodance, Vocal Trance, Classic Trance

Tickets: Available online at Quicket or at the door. 

 

Purchase your ticket to Resurrection here

Press release courtesy of Coven, written by Niyaal Rakiep

Lucilla Booyzen on Founding SA Fashion Week

May 6, 2025 | Fashion, Interlude

South African fashion is in its infancy. Albeit a mighty, sharply attuned infant, it is young, and the natural trajectory of growing up, is to experience growing pains. To be young is to be brimming with possibility, and seizing said possibility is a mantle many have taken up. In writing about fashion in South Africa, I’ve stuck to the suggestion that our youth is our greatest weapon. It means that a blank slate is before us, and we get to decide how to illustrate it. I believe this, fully and wholly, and this month’s Interlude expert is an illuminating embodiment of this sentiment. In 1997, Lucilla Booyzen crossed the threshold of a post-democratic South Africa with a plan; founding South African Fashion Week.  

SA Fashion Week has played a critical role in putting structure to an industry that was still figuring itself out. It created a formal platform for designers to be seen, taken seriously, and to build businesses around their work. It was the first time that fashion in South Africa was approached with the clear purpose of creating a collective platform that could assist designers to seed as commercially viable brands and entrepreneurs. 

Since then, it has remained one of the few consistent engines driving the growth of the South African fashion industry—building visibility, pushing for commercial sustainability, and carving out space for local talent to be recognised on their own terms. Even as globalisation deadened our garment and textile industries, and changed the face of commerce and consumption rapidly, SA Fashion Week has stayed focused on backing designers and insisting on the value of local work. 

Portrait of Lucilla by Johan Venter

SAFW SS25 Tadi Wa Nashe photographed by Eunice Driver

As I write this, SA Fashion Week is hosting its SS25 showcase in Joburg, approaching nearly 30 years as a backbone of the local fashion industry. Fashion is not an easy industry, and we don’t have the government buy-in that we should, or that so many designers we speak to on CEC have emphatically recognised as one of the biggest missing gaps in building a sustainable fashion economy. It is also important to note that, for many of the prizes and residencies such as LVMH and International Woolmark Prize internationally, global platforms tend to require some kind of formal showcase as part of a brand’s background in order to qualify. Suffice to say, whether you’re a fashion non-conformist or part of the changing face of fashion itself, local fashion weeks are critical. Lucilla is South African fashion’s fairy godmother in this respect.

When Lucilla talks about the early days of South African fashion, the landscape was a very different place. “In the 80s and early 90s, fashion in South Africa was mostly entertainment-driven,” she reminisces. Brands and magazines hosted shows, and producers like Lucilla were tasked with putting on a spectacle—creating concepts, sourcing venues, and building the entire event experience. “I did the Cameo Stocking Shows for ten years, which were incredible, and I worked internationally, traveling with South African buyers to Europe, the U.S. and the East.”

It was on these international buying trips—which Lucilla calls the ‘fashion train’ through cities like London, Paris, Milan, and Berlin—that the seed for South African Fashion Week was planted. “It was during one of these trips that I had a realisation that we didn’t have a formal platform in South Africa where designers could choose to show their work,” she says. “Producers were choosing the designers for shows—those who made us look good, to be honest, and I’ve always had a deep sensitivity to the idea of being chosen versus choosing for yourself. Designers had no agency, no marketing platform of their own. That needed to change.”

“By 1997, I knew the time had come,” Lucillla muses, on taking the leap, “I remember the moment clearly—it was February, and I felt this absolute clarity. I went straight to a friend who was working in PR and said, ‘We’re starting a fashion week.’ And that was it. South African Fashion Week was born. Twenty-seven years ago.” Lucilla’s background is in education, she tells me, and her experience as a high school teacher is the foundation upon which SA Fashion Week was born. Passing through her eyes and hands, many designers have found a home to test out who they’re becoming; “I am still a teacher. I believe deeply in transferring knowledge and exposing people to the inner workings—the secrets—of an industry. Every industry has its secrets, and fashion is no exception.”

The 90s was a transformative decade for fashion globally, marked by the rapid rise of international retail giants. The internet was beginning to shape how we viewed commerce, with online shopping just on the horizon. In the fashion world, globalisation was starting to take hold—retailers and fast fashion were expanding into new markets at an unprecedented rate, on this Lucilla notes that “the more I travelled and immersed myself in global fashion, the more I realised how far we had to go. I saw the rise of international fast fashion—Zara moving out of Spain, Uniqlo out of Japan and H&M out of Sweden—and I knew it was just a matter of time before these giants arrived in South Africa.” This shift presented a clear challenge, as Lucilla saw it— that South African designers, who had largely operated in a more insular local market, needed to compete with the international brands that were inevitably making their way to South Africa, “our designers needed to be ready. We needed to build them up before they were pushed out.”

The apartheid regime was oppressive in innumerable ways; one among them was just how isolated South Africa had been from the rest of the world. This scar, and the lingering sense of disconnection it created, meant that the country’s industries—fashion included—were largely cut off from global knowledge and networks. This isolation left South Africa politically and socially fractured, and economically and creatively stunted, with much of the world’s cultural exchange bypassing the country. “When I started inviting international buyers and fashion insiders to South Africa, I told them, ‘Don’t just tell me we’re amazing. Tell me what’s wrong—what’s holding us back.’” Lucilla notes on her determination to make South Africa’s fashion scene competitive on a global scale, and she knew that the honest truth—however uncomfortable—was essential. “Across two or three seasons, the feedback was consistent: garments weren’t being cut to international blocks, which meant they couldn’t be ordered, graded, or sold at scale. Designers didn’t know how to price their work or sell internationally. They just hadn’t been exposed to those systems.”

SAFW SS25 DAY 1 Photographed by Pierre Van Vuuren

SAFW SS25 DAY 1 Photographed by Pierre Van Vuuren

This was a wake-up call for Lucilla, demonstrating the talent was there, but the technical and commercial knowledge was lagging. “So I started bringing in people to train them,” Lucilla continues. “One of the first was a woman named Marie, a French aeronautical engineer who later studied fashion. She came to South Africa and spent ten days training 15 designers—and I invited fashion lecturers too, because they also needed that knowledge. It was transformative.”

One of South African fashion’s biggest challenges in its early days was fabrication. Lucilla recalls, “Designers would go to places like Oriental Plaza in Johannesburg or similar outlets in Cape Town, buying fabrics imported from who knows where—China, India—there was no consistency. They’d take orders and then realise they couldn’t deliver because the fabric wasn’t repeatable. And the quality just wasn’t there. You can’t build a luxury business on that kind of instability.” While more established designers in the luxury space had access to better materials, younger, emerging designers struggled to source quality fabrics or tap into reliable supply chains. “So we pivoted. We started telling them, ‘Print your own fabrics.’ The moment you decide to create your own print, you have to tap into something deeper. You can’t just copy a Japanese motif—you have to ask yourself, ‘What is my story? What am I reflecting on?’ It forces you to connect to your culture, your design soul. It’s unavoidable.” 

“That was the beginning of what has become one of our greatest strengths,” Lucilla emphasises, and “designers like Thebe Magugu, who showed with us for a few seasons, began developing their own prints. Sindiso Khumalo, who started purely as a textile designer, created this incredibly strong print language before moving into full collections. Then Rich Mnisi started printing, followed by names like Mmuso Maxwell and Lukhanyo Mdingi—each one slowly building their own aesthetic vocabulary.” Lucilla believes South African fashion’s explicit vision of self-determining fabrication shift is part of what caught the international gaze now so firmly set upon South Africa, “we even brought out VideoFashion, a global industry channel that would broadcast our collections to buyers around the world. It made the world sit up a little and say, ‘What’s happening in South Africa?’ That said, even today, the barriers are challenging. We lack access to consistent supply chains and there are weaknesses within the broader fashion value chain. Those are still the things holding designers back from selling internationally at scale.”

Perhaps Lucilla, and consequently South African Fashion Week’s greatest purpose is driving the commercial viability of fashion and its economic impact. As Lucilla puts it, “It’s incredibly difficult to turn talent into money. That, for me, is the biggest challenge.” She recognised early on that while South Africa was bursting with raw talent, transforming that into a sustainable business model was no easy feat. Still, some three decades later, this challenge remains. 

Lucilla has always maintained that for South Africa to compete with global fashion capitals, the country must embrace a designer-led industry. “Everyone’s on their own little mission. Until the powers understand that we need a designer-led industry in this country, we will never reach the levels of the European, American, or even Asian markets,” she asserts. “You can only build your identity and culture through design—across all the arts.” This ethos is particularly evident in her thoughts on manufacturing and its relationship to brand value, to which she notes that “There’s this constant argument: let’s put millions behind manufacturing. But manufacturing can be done cheaper elsewhere. If it’s designer-led—say it’s a Naked Ape shirt—there’s an emotion linked to it. That changes the price. You’re not buying a shirt. You’re buying a South African emotion.” For Lucilla, the future of South African fashion lies in the ability to merge creativity with a strong business foundation, giving local talent the platform and support to thrive and ultimately: a robust, fulfilling creative economy that changes lives. 

I ask Lucilla about how the platform has evolved over the years, and where she sees South African Fashion Week heading in the future, “we’ve narrowed down our platform this season. In the past, we were open to new designers using the platform. Now, we’re focusing on the designers who are making money—those who understand that we’re a marketing platform, not a sales generator. Our role is to create awareness and the designers must learn alongside us as to how to turn that into business.”  By refining the scope of the platform, she believes that designers who are truly ready to approach their work as a business-led career, will benefit from the visibility South African Fashion Week provides. As she puts it, “Fashion Week is a launchpad. It’s not the end point. The designers who truly succeed understand the importance of using that exposure to push their business forward.”

I don’t have to wax lyrical about the promise of South African fashion. If you’re reading this, you invariably know it and experience it yourself. Fashion is as much a fantastical dream, as it is a nuts-and-bolts machine that demands much of those who ascend its stairs. Lucilla’s view, grounded in realism, is clarified by her deep commitment to South African fashion. The future is something she believes in, but it’s one that requires both creativity and discipline. When I ask Lucilla what makes South Africa so compelling to her, bias aside, she responds, “One thing that makes us unique in South Africa is our diversity—culturally, aesthetically, creatively. We’ve always had a strong educational base, and we are all learning together. We’re connected to over 24 fashion schools across the country. There’s this incredible loyalty from families too, that I’ve seen. If a child wants to study fashion, they can get full support. That’s powerful.”

This is the foundation upon which the future of South African fashion is being built—an industry that is rooted in diversity and a commitment to learning and growth. 

The future of fashion in South Africa? Support, education, and the unity of vision. 

 

Written by Holly Bell Beaton

 

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

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Farhot releases ‘MARS’ the first single from his upcoming project

May 2, 2025 | New Release, Music

‘MARS’ is the first single from Farhot‘s upcoming uptempo project ‘RAQS (105-118BPM)’. A dynamic fusion of big beat, house, and hip-hop, it features a captivating vocal sample from Somali band 4Mars’ ‘Tilman Baa Lagu Socdaa’. Farhot blends high-energy rhythms with deep cultural resonance, creating a dancefloor anthem that transcends borders. ‘MARS’ reflects his passion for connecting cultures through music, offering a fresh yet traditional sonic journey.

Afghanistan born, Hamburg based producer, artist and founder of Kabul Fire Records, Farhot has been on the scene for over a decade now. He began his career working and touring with singer Nneka also producing most of her albums to date. Farhot productions – and more so his own releases as an artist – carry his personal signature sound, while not limiting himself to a certain genre or style. Still, it’s safe to say that he’s firmly rooted in hip-hop culture. Farhot is one half of producer duo “Die Achse” alongside longtime-friend and collaborator Bazzazian. His impressive body of work includes productions for artists like Giggs, Kano, Isaiah Rashad, Talib Kweli, Selah Sue, 113, LOC, Haftbefehl, Xatar – and at last his own releases of Kabul Fire Vol. 1 & 2 – from which the later of the two has been honored by The Guardian as their album of the month.

Listen to ‘MARS’ here

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff

Commonsur has released their 4 track self-titled EP

May 2, 2025 | New Release, Music

Madrid’s Lovemonk label has announced the soulful 4 track debut EP from Swiss / Spanish duo, Commonsur.

Commonsur is a Geneva-Madrid-based production outfit whose self-titled debut EP delivers four tracks of meticulously crafted contemporary soul, underpinned by a subtle message of hope.

Both members are experienced multi-instrumentalists and producers with long-standing ties to the European music scene, channeling their expertise into a project that places the music firmly at its heart.

The EP features the stunning vocals of Rolita, a Madrid-based British-Spanish singer, on three of the tracks. Her heartfelt delivery brings warmth and emotional resonance to the release, balancing tight grooves with a reflective, uplifting quality. It’s a debut that feels both intimate and universal.

Listen to Commonsur here

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff

Raz & Afla release ‘Windowlicker’ and ‘Going Back To My Roots’

Apr 25, 2025 | New Release, Music

Wah Wah 45s present two cover versions from Afro-electronic duo, Raz & Afla. Having recently released their sophomore LP, Echoes Of Resistance, to great acclaim and support ranging from Nick Grimshaw on BBC 6 Music to Tash LC on BBC Radio 1, the pair then delivered their unique take of the Richie Havens & Odyssey classic Going Back To My Roots.

“We love this song. The lyrics resonate with us, talking about the meaning of connection to a land and its people. The history of this song is also fascinating, from Hugh Masekela and Orlando Julius through Odyssey and Richie Havens. We wanted to give it our own flavour. You can’t choose your heritage and where you are born. It is always a part of you and we like to celebrate that.”

Written and first recorded by Lamont Dozier in 1977, Going Back To My Roots was famously covered by Richie Havens in 1980 before becoming a huge crossover hit when interpreted by disco outfit Odyssey in 1981. It’s that version that provides the inspiration for the artwork on this release, courtesy of designer Michael Sallit, but musically Raz & Afla very much give their take their own unique dance floor feeling.

The follow up is something of a left turn, tackling Aphex Twin’s sleazy and sinister turn-of-the-century dance floor bomb Windowlicker and taking it somewhere completely unexpected, as Raz explains: “We wanted to go to a different place from our influences for this one. When we told people we will cover this tune everyone said ‘but how?!’ In Raz & Afla style. We had an idea of what elements to recreate from the original and how we can reference it within our spectrum of sounds. It was so much fun to do and really kicks off at our live shows.“

It’s a heavily percussive reinterpretation, replete with spooky wordless vocals, guitars and synths that builds into something of a future Afro-house anthem, whilst respecting the genius of the original recording. And it’s not only the music that is paid tribute to, with graphic designer Michael Sallit once again coming up trumps and here using the inspiration of Chris Cunningham’s iconic artwork to deliver an equally tongue-in-cheek thing of beauty.

Listen to Windowlicker and Going Back To My Roots here

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff 

Feiertag releases ‘Somewhere Up There’ and ‘Wanderer’

Apr 25, 2025 | New Release, Music

‘Somewhere Up There’ & ‘Wanderer’ are the new singles from Dutch producer Joris Feiertag, introducing forthcoming EP ‘Embers’ (out June 2025). Marking his first release since 2024’s ON/OFF EP, the tracks continue to showcase his signature beat-driven sound, effortlessly blending rich textures with a refined balance of organic and synthesised elements.

A 130 bpm, club-focused cut, ‘Somewhere Up There’ combines tough breaks and synths with hypnotic, ethereal vocals that build to a powerful climax before resolving in a blissful conclusion. Emotionally charged, the track holds a special place on the upcoming Embers EP, as Joris explains: “This track holds the heart of my entire EP. It’s difficult to put into words what it means to me. Somewhere Up There is about the loved ones we’ve lost but still feel watching over us. It’s that comforting sense that, from above, they’re guiding us and reminding us that everything will be okay.”

‘Wanderer’ is an uplifting foot friendly piece that sets off at a pace with an enigmatic vocal sample making way for Feiertag’s inspiring breaks, sublime synths and sliced and diced aural textures in his typical, mesmerising fashion. Having built up all of these elements, he then goes on to deconstruct them one by one, leaving the listener with filtered out breaks and those solitary, cryptic words that opened the piece in such alluring style. Joris explains more: “Wanderer was a journey in itself to complete, but the process was really rewarding. I explored new production techniques, experimenting with syncopated melodies crafted from vocal snippets and African choir samples. Every musical detail feels intentional and in its own place. My goal was to create a track that works equally well at home or in a club/festival setting, which is why there’s also an extended version!”

Feiertag has released three albums and a number of singles and EPs on Sonar Kollektiv so far, as well as recent offerings on R&S and Anjunadeep. The Embers EP, which features, amongst other things, a stunning collaboration with label mate Jono McCleery, once again illustrates his ability to finely tune his music between acoustic and electronic sounds, whilst maintaining the ability to move a dance floor.

 

Listen to ‘Somewhere Up There’ and ‘Wanderer’ here 

 

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff 

 

Lewis Daniel releases ‘Tech Glitch’ and ‘When I’

Apr 25, 2025 | New Release, Music

Taken from forthcoming album ‘Defective Disk’ (out in May), South London-based saxophonist and composer Lewis Daniel announces the release of his third and fourth singles: irreverent, glitchy, tech-driven disco-jazz cut “Tech Glitch”, and “When I” featuring acclaimed rapper Tee Peters.

“Tech Glitch” is about feeling broken—like something is inherently wrong but you don’t know what. It captures the turmoil of anxiety and depression, using the metaphor of computer errors and glitches to reflect the chaos of intrusive thoughts and emotional paralysis. The track features lush synth textures and a jazz scat duet with steel pianist Marlon Hibbert. Producer DJ Harrsn enhances the track with granular effects, distortion, and an escalating sense of musical disintegration. “This is a feeling I’ve experienced many times—not being able to move forward, not being able to untangle thoughts and emotions,” Daniel shares. “Tech Glitch reflects some of the more irreverent, chaotic, and experimental touches on the album. I wanted to really capture how our minds can trick us into panic and intrusive thoughts, sometimes in ways that feel almost cartoonish. It’s a humorous yet poignant reminder to step back, talk to someone, and untangle what’s really going on.”

“When I” is a hip-hop jazz fusion with a dark undertone, driven by distorted synth bass and culminating in a soaring gospel ride-out. Featuring singers from the House Gospel Choir and a lush string quartet, the track embodies Daniel’s signature blend of experimental composition, genre-blurring sound design, and cinematic orchestration. He describes it as “a dark hip-hop track that ends in a sour gospel finale.” Lyrically, “When I” delves into the relentless rat race of modern life – the ‘hedonistic treadmill’ we all run on, chasing external success in the hope of finding contentment. You can even hear the sound of a treadmill within the track. “We think that once we get the job, the money, the six-pack, or reach that next goal, we’ll be set. But real fulfilment never comes from external achievements alone,” Daniel reflects. “This song represents a younger version of me – hopeful, naïve, believing success would be the answer. But life keeps shifting the goalposts, and no status symbol will shield you from its challenges.” Tee Peters’ verse expands on this theme, painting a stark picture of a world where corporations mine our data, jobs are cut in pursuit of prestige, and brotherhood is reduced to transactions. “You ain’t choose to live like this,” he raps, capturing the feeling of being trapped in an unforgiving system. The choir echoes these sentiments in haunting refrains: “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do… I don’t know what I’ve got to lose.” This tension between ambition and disillusionment builds until the track’s final moment—a gospel-infused outro where voices soar over swelling strings, forcing a moment of reckoning. “We’re convinced it’s a race, but we chase shallow tides, hastening in our lives,” Peters comments. Daniel adds, “I wanted to create a song that feels like an awakening—one that starts in a dark, mechanical space but erupts into something raw and human. The gospel section at the end is a release, a cry for something real in a world that keeps pushing us to chase the next thing.”

Daniel’s conceptual jazz album, Defective Disk, is set for release on May 9th. A 13- track narrative album, it follows the journey of a video game character, Xavier, through a futuristic cyberpunk world, blending jazz, hip-hop, electronic textures, and Daniel’s Caribbean heritage. Inspired by the ambitious storytelling of Frank Ocean and Beyoncé, Defective Disk pushes the boundaries of UK jazz.

Listen to Tech Glitch / When I here

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff

Research Unit: Not Just A Fashion Label But A Philosophical Method

Apr 24, 2025 | Interviews, Fashion

Research Unit is aptly named to convey its vision; a vehicle of all the design instincts, tastes and philosophical expressiveness that husband and wife duo, Erin-Lee and Chad Petersen, have sought to explore: individually and within their partnership. Many of us know Research Unit as a fashion brand— a homegrown articulation with notes of Scandinavian and Japanese sensibilities, tempered with an aesthetic entirely of its own. To the untrained eye, Research Unit is simply cool as hell: to the trained, there is a precision within each detail. The construction, the restraint, the clarity of form—all speak to a design language that is the careful result of an approach to living and creating, a kind of Ikigain principle that defines their purpose and presence. Beneath the aesthetics is Research Unit’s humanist lens; a commitment to process, to community, to making things the right way. Erin and Chad have built a system that empowers local makers, honours intentionality, and leaves us with a foolproof study on what it means to build something from the ground up, right here in South Africa.

Research Unit’s success today is hard-won, as they will share with me later, but the protracted growing pains that are embedded within the process of building a brand have edified the broader vision of what Research Unit. Suffering beckons enlightenment, as the Buddhist’s will tell you. The brand is Erin-Lee and Chad’s legacy, a living archive of experimentation, and a challenge to each other and themselves that discomfort and learning are necessary parts of growth. In fact it appears that the many in-between spaces marking its history is precisely where Research Unit finds its edge. Every recalibration has deepened their commitment to doing things differently, and though their story is not necessarily one of overnight success, it is one of staying the course, even when the way forward wasn’t clear. I think that’s about as profound a teaching as any of us could hope to learn.

“The brand actually started in 2011, not 2013,” Erin-Lee clarifies, on RU’s origin, “At the time, I was working in high-end retail—brands like Prada, Bottega Veneta—mostly made in Italy. I started getting frustrated with what was available in the leather goods space and wanted to create something from South Africa that could hold its own on that level.”

Erin-Lee and Chad, photographed by Solly King at Solo Apeture

Research Unit began, quite literally, on the bedroom floor. Erin-Lee would buy offcuts of leather and experiment, no formal fashion training, just instinct and curiosity. “I studied journalism, so I had no intention of making this a business. But I’d be stitching a bag and Chad—my boyfriend at the time—would come in after varsity and be like, ‘Is that a bag?’ I’d say, ‘No, not really…’ but that’s exactly what it was.” Chad brought his industrial design background into the mix, signalling their first foray as co-collaborators, and helped to refine the product and elevate it from handmade hobby to market-ready. He applied to Design Indaba with his own furniture under the name Research Unit, while Erin-Lee submitted her leather goods under a different name: though she didn’t get in, and Chad did, “He said, ‘Just put your bags on the table next to the furniture and see what happens.’ And people went wild for the bags.” They had just gotten married, and instead of a honeymoon, found themselves scrambling to fulfill 70–80 orders from enthusiastic show-goers. “We hadn’t even taken money for them,” Erin-Lee laughs. “So we had to go back and contact everyone—and most of them still wanted their orders. That’s really how it all began.”

From the beginning, Research Unit was a brand born out of intuition. “We’ve always designed for ourselves,” says Chad. “If no one buys it, at least we’ve got cool clothes to wear and we haven’t done our work in vain.”

Neither of them studied fashion, and that shows—in the best way possible. Research Unit forms part of an alumni of brands in which its clothing are a direct consequence of its owner’s personal taste. “We usually find the fabric first, see how it drapes or falls, put it on our bodies, and then decide what it wants to become,” Chad says. “We don’t start with the idea of a ‘garment’—it’s more about how the fabric moves and how it makes us feel.”

Research Unit has always staked its claim in questioning convention, and its part of what makes its construction and detailing so compelling, “a shirt doesn’t always have to be a shirt in the conventional sense,” Chad adds. “We use first principles thinking instead of following traditional garment construction methods.” First principles thinking traces back to Aristotle, who described it in his work Metaphysics as reasoning from the most basic, self-evident truths—and in practice, is the methodical breaking complex problems down to their most fundamental truths, then reasoning up from there—like rebuilding the world from raw atoms instead of rearranging parts.

Over time, external pressures shaped their creative process. “As you grow, you understand yourself better, and you also learn a lot about the economy,” Erin-Lee says. “We’ve been through water crises, market fluctuations—it all influences how and what we design.” Chad calls it the brand’s ‘two lives.’ First as a luxury leather goods label, then—as of 2020—a full pivot to fashion. “COVID hit, and that was the turning point,” he says. “We had a factory of 25 people making leather goods. But post-COVID, we leaned fully into fashion.”

The shift happened somewhat accidentally. Again, generated by Erin-Lee seeking to solve something for herself. Having just had a baby, she designed a kaftan—voluminous, breastfeeding-friendly, comfortable—for herself. “I put two out in the shop, and they sold out in a matter of hours. That’s when I realised—okay, there’s something here.” That single garment became the foundation of an entire collection, shown at South African Fashion Week in 2019. “Someone from Fashion Week questioned me, saying, ‘But you design bags—how are you going to put out a collection?’ It made sense—they hadn’t seen my work in fashion yet. But I put together a collection that carried the same aesthetic as the Travel Kaftan: oversized, functional, and designed for the way I wanted to dress at that time in my life.”

Then COVID hit hard. With stores closed and creditors knocking, they burned through savings at lightning speed. “It was painful, but it also shaped us. It hardened us,” Erin-Lee says. “There was an easy way out—I could have just gone back to radio,” she admits, while Chad affirms, “Once you work for yourself, you can’t work for anyone else. The people we work for now are our customers, and that’s how we like it.”

Photographed by Chad Petersen

That crucible forced agility. During the 2017–2018 Cape Town water crisis, they’d already learned to be resourceful. COVID just pushed it further. “You either close your business, or you pivot. And we pivoted.”

One of the most important pivots was moving to a pre-order model. “We designed samples, Chad learned photography from YouTube, and we started shooting our pieces ourselves,” Erin-Lee says. “We’d make one of each garment, photograph it, and put it online for pre-order. That’s how we survived—and it worked.”

That period birthed some of their most beloved pieces—like the iconic raincoat, originally just one garment in a small drop. “Even when we tried to phase it out, our customers wouldn’t let us,” she says, and the garment now firmly forms part of the Research Unit’s evergreen collection. 

Today, Erin-Lee and Chad’s method is one of constant iteration. “We work in what we call ‘the Kaizen way’—daily, incremental improvement,” Erin-Lee says, referencing ‘Kaizen’ (改善) literally meaning ‘change for better’, a core principle in Japanese manufacturing, that has seen the titanic ascent of brands like Toyota;l it is a way of being typically rooted in refining processes, reducing waste, and empowering every worker to suggest improvements. “Kaizen is also our son’s name, so the pressure’s on him too. But really, that’s how we move forward. Every day we’re refining, adjusting, pushing the needle a bit further.”

A proud aspect of Research Unit is that it’s made by women across the Cape Flats. With the loss of Cape Town’s textile and CMT history, the couple tapped into finding artisans who came out of this bygone era. “We didn’t have to hire in-house—we could work with skilled people in local communities,” Chad explains. “My mother was a seamstress on the Cape Flats. I grew up around people doing garment work from their homes.” Erin-Lee adds, “The first samples were made by his mom. Since then, we’ve built relationships with incredible artisans in our communities. We can make five or ten items at a time, sell them, and reinvest—no waste, no excess. This impact is the thing we are most proud of, the way Research Unit has helped to transform the lives of these women, creatively and economically.”

“Because we’re from these communities ourselves, we had access in a way others might not,” Chad says. “Some areas, like Manenberg, are dangerous if you’re not familiar—but we were comfortable, we knew the terrain. That gave us a huge advantage.”

On the subject of sustainability, Chad notes that “we don’t like to call ourselves a ‘sustainable brand’ because that word gets thrown around so much. To us, it’s just about making it last, minimising waste, and offering our customer pieces  that goes beyond seasons.” Erin-Lee nods, “Even before sustainability became a buzzword, we were working bootstrapped. So we had to be careful with resources, and that shaped our entire approach to production.” Ultimately, it’s about how the clothing makes people feel. “We make superwoman, superhuman-like clothing,” Chad says. “Even though it’s just clothing, it can make you feel amazing.”

Central to Research Unit is its physical, brick-and-mortar presence in the city. Their first store at the V&A Watershed was their segue, but it’s the Bree St store that is Erin-Lee’s dream realised; “we wanted it to feel more like a home than a store,” Erin-Lee says. “That’s why it looks the way it does—so many pieces in there are from my actual house. It’s my workspace, my lounge, my office.” They even added artisanal coffee, brewed pour-over style. “It’s part of the whole experience—slowing down, being intentional,” she adds.

“I love listening to what people say,” Erin-Lee says. Chad agrees, “if someone says, ‘this would be amazing if it had pockets,’ we’ll consider making that change. But sometimes people don’t know what they want. We’re both stylists, so we love guiding our customers to wear something a certain way, and take a risk. Often, they leave with a new perspective on how to dress. it’s a balance between listening and leading.”

Photographed by Chad Petersen

Photographed by Solly King

Now, Research Unit is proudly multidisciplinary, and a vehicle for pushing the couple’s most creative and artistic frontiers. Fashion remains central, but accessories have returned, along with leather goods—though in reimagined forms. They’ve added ceramics and art too, as Chad shares “I kept all our offcuts—high-quality, vegetable-tanned leather that felt too precious to toss. One day, I started sticking leather onto leftover wood in abstract shapes. It became this meditative, therapeutic process. I wasn’t trying to sell anything. But people started to take interest. We’ve sold some, and have some in our stores.”

Looking ahead, Erin-Lee and Chad are cautious about global expansion, though they’re very interested. “We’re working with a Japanese agency at the moment, but the reality is the international market is saturated,” Chad says. “Shipping, duties, logistics—it’s not easy. Our strategy is to take small, intentional steps. We are hoping to be in one store at a time. We’re learning there’s real demand internationally for quality South African brands.”

From a single bag on a bedroom floor to an evolving studio of fashion, furniture, and fine art, Research Unit continues to push boundaries—always intentional, always grounded, always evolving. To end off, I ask the duo to share their words of wisdom for aspiring designers and business owners, and as Chad puts it, “Sometimes we chase our passion so hard, but the real shift comes when we focus on our strengths. You might want to be a fashion designer, but maybe your strength is actually in curating, not creating. And that strength could guide you straight to your passion — and you’ll be good at it too. Ask yourself: what can I be in the top 1% at? Focus on that. Do that. And everything else will start to fall into place. I wish someone had told me that a long time ago.”

And when you find that thing— that one thing only you can do— Erin reminds us that it’s consistency that makes it count: “You can have all the determination in the world, but if you don’t stick it out, it doesn’t mean anything. The hardness of finishing something — even when every bone in your body hates it — will teach you more than anything else. That follow-through? It might end up being the biggest turning point in your life. People won’t see the grind. They’ll just see the outcome. But no one can beat your consistency. That’s what separates those who dream from those who build something real.”

Erin and Chad build with a central philosophy guiding their praxis—a litany of small gestures toward slower, more enduring ways of making. While the aesthetics are sharp, global, and undeniably contemporary, Research Unit emanates with a deep sense of place—shaped by the Cape, sustained by its people, and defined by a belief that design can, and should, be impactful and transformative.

Written by Holly Bell Beaton

 

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

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A Penchant For The Midas Touch: The Immortalisation of Ginger Trill

Apr 23, 2025 | Interviews, Music

One of the most challenging elements of a music career is achieving longevity. Dr Dre is clinically correct when he says, “Anybody can get it, the hardest part is keeping it.”

For North West’s finest, Tshegofatso Seroalo, affectionately known as Ginger Trill, the longevity in question is a slow burn but one that is met with the golden era in penmanship, conceptualization and ideation. His presence over the years has become undeniable, to say the least.

From persevering through the lack of support in the arts growing up after having Hip-Hop introduced to him at a tender age, Ginger was raised to respect the art form.

Like he says on his record “Two For One”, “I’m a 90s Icon who’s been a star from the get-go” – and who could contest that when he’s been a part of some of South Africa’s most pivotal rap moments including the late Ricky Rick’s, “Amantombazane Remix” and “Bump The Cheese Up” to name a few. 

From this debut album, “Rookie of The Year”, to projects such as “Boyzen Da Hood”, Ginger Trill has strived for excellence and pushed the narrative of maintaining impact with his ironclad lyricism. This same spirit is sustained in his new offering “Because I Said So.”

With a curious wonder into the method behind his practice, I was honoured to discuss the creative process of “Because I Said So,” the economic reality of Rap, and Ginger’s future plans.

All imagery courtesy of Ginger Trill
Take me back to the beginning. How was life growing up leading to the over 10,000 hours that shaped your musical journey?

Ginger Trill: Shout out to my parents. I had a great upbringing and a wonderful childhood. When you ask me that question, it teleports me back to a simpler, happier time under the guidance of my folks and the community I grew up in. Although there wasn’t much infrastructure or many facilities to promote growth in the arts, there was definitely encouragement from the community around us—the big brother figures and people I was fortunate enough to grow up with.

Life was great. I discovered Hip-Hop at a young age, around 8 years old, in a relative’s home—a big brother figure I always followed around. He played this music that I immediately found myself drawn to. It wasn’t just the sound that captivated me, but the lifestyle it represented. Hip-hop came with instructions on how to exist in society and how to be proudly Black. I fell in love with it almost instantly.

The “Because I Said So” production is nostalgic, introspective and nuanced with underground flair. What was the thought process behind the sonic direction between you and Shooterkhumz?

Ginger Trill: “Shooterkhumz and I agreed—the whole team believes that the only way this works is if we make classic Hip-Hop, traditional classic-sounding Hip-Hop. We didn’t try to colour outside the lines too much.

That was our intention with this first project: to put a stamp on the fact that there’s no doubt I can contribute to South African Hip-Hop in a way where I can create moments that make everyone stop, look, and listen. I just needed 20 minutes of your time, and there would be no missteps during that time. You won’t miss a line or have anything to critique. You’ll come out of that experience thinking, ‘Wait, that was 10 out of 10. Presentation-wise, that was actually flawless.’ Then, you’ll go back and listen to it repeatedly, which will reaffirm how it made you feel the first time. You’ll know you’re listening to a classic and experiencing a classic moment in SA Hip-Hop.

So we strictly aimed for that. We didn’t want to be too experimental, even when we dabbled in a bit of a trappy sound—though trap is a little bit older now in the genre. I remember when the trap sound was so new, alienating, and polarizing in Hip-Hop globally. We’ve watched it grow up and spawn a new generation of artists and listeners. Even when we incorporated trap elements, we didn’t stray too far from our vision. We just said, ‘No, we’re going to keep it clean, tidy, and ensure quality.’ Shooterkhumz is an incredible producer—I liked every single beat he sent me. We just went with the ones that inspired me to make songs. That’s all.”

Watch “Iconic” here

In “Rap Don’t Pay,” you question the economic realities of the Hip-Hop industry. Could you elaborate on the tensions between artistic authenticity and commercial viability in South Africa’s music landscape?

Ginger Trill:  “It’s not a thing that’s unique to South Africa. Anywhere in the world, being an artist can be a little bit tricky. Most artists right now who are successful will tell you that it didn’t happen quick enough for them. There was a period where they were waiting for something to happen. They were figuring out how this thing works, how they would make successes out of themselves and have these great careers.

There was a waiting period before they met the right person or people before they were in the right environment, city, community, and place with all the things they needed in proximity to them. So, it’s not anything unique to South Africa.

When it comes to the artist being authentic—sometimes to yourself, to your sound—the challenge comes when the trend is to do something else, or the markets are going that way, or the head of music marketing at the label is telling you, ‘Yeah, but this is what the kids are listening to. This is what’s going on in the streets. The streets want to hear this kind of music or this kind of Hip-Hop.’

You’re going to find that sort of problem around the globe. You just have to decide what you want, bro. You just have to be okay with the decision you’re going to make and live with that.

You have to be okay with asking yourself: Do I want to stay true to myself even if it’s taking too long? Or do I want to just go with what the streets want to hear and give them that so I can do my circuit? So I can get out there, be in people’s faces, and be out every night, three times a night, from Thursday to Sunday, clearing 8 to 15 gigs a week? It’s just up to you what’s more important to you as an artist.”

Thank you for joining us for this interview. Before you go, please share some of your future plans. What does 2025 look like for Ginger Trill?

Ginger Trill: “Like Kendrick said—’I want it all.’ Look, man. Me and the team have big plans to amplify my art and present it in a way that’s deserving both for me and for the audience to experience it. 

We’re going to do great work in that sense, and the whole vision for 2025 is to take ‘Because I Said So’ to the stars and give it to the people the way they should be experiencing it. We’re not going to rob you of anything: expect visuals, and there’s also the Small Room Concert coming up on May 17th, 2025.

Expect live presentations, expect moments. Just stay tuned to my Instagram and Twitter so you don’t miss a thing, don’t miss a beat. We’ll be delivering quality work all year long. We’re downplaying what a big moment this is, but those who attended the first one are in for a treat because we’re going to elevate the experience for everyone who bought a ticket. 

And it’s on my birthday weekend too, so we’re going to be playing some jams and having a ball—we’re going to have ourselves a party.”

Stream “Because I Said So” here

 

Connect With Ginger Trill

Facebook:@GingerTrilly

X (formerly Twitter): @ginger_trill

Instagram: @ginger_trill

Book your Small Room Concert tickets here

 

 

Written by: Cedric Dladla

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

Step inside Vusumzi Nkomo’s ‘Discordant Infrastructure’

Apr 17, 2025 | Art, Community

Everard Read gallery presents Vusumzi Nkomo‘s latest exhibition ‘Discordant Infrastructure and other minor gestures’ which opens on Wednesday 9 April until 26 April.

Nkomo is an artist, writer and educator living and working in Cape Town. His practice explores the systems and structures that produce modern subjects. Through a practice that spans across sculpture, installation, video, drawing, performance and sound, Nkomo interrogates the continuities between the economy and racial violence, games, knowledge production and memory. Working with a range of materials such as concrete, glass, mirrors, shoe polish, sea salt, soil, Nkomo stages speculative encounters between objects to expose the operations of structural violence and paradigmatic precarity in the longue durée (long-term histories) of South Africa’s history of racial slavery, colonialism and their ‘afterlives’. 

Often drawing from conceptualist and minimalist strategies, Nkomo is interested in systems aesthetics, seriality, repetition, fragmentation and movement, as modes of unveiling and demystifying the pervasiveness and ubiquity of anti-Blackness.

Nkomo has been described as ‘one of [the] key thinkers’ of the city’s art scene by Sean O’Toole in a recent article featured in Art Forum. O’Toole goes on to describe his practice as being part of ‘a lineage of austere, non-referential sculpture freighted with social implications. His method of using everyday things… links him to contemporary artists like [Moshekwa] Langa, Igshaan Adams, Dineo Seshee Bopape, Nicholas Hlobo and Kemang wa Lehulere.’

All imagery courtesy of Everard Read

The current exhibition by Vusumzi Nkomo ‘Discordant Infrastructure and other minor gestures’ on show at Everard Read Cape Town is the latest expression of a recurring

preoccupation Nkomo has with anti-blackness as a structural ordering principle of the modern world system. Building on from his two solo exhibitions within the last year

(Ityala Aliboli at AVA Gallery and Propositions for Dis-order at THK in September of 2024), and by materializing a set of violent concepts, Nkomo has now declared himself a systems theorist par excellence.

The staging of the objects in space, the activation of the negative space between the objects, the mediating relation played by the gallery itself, all serve to make the ‘Discordant Infrastructure’ unnerving in ways that can quite literally be felt in the air. From the manipulation of the very atmosphere in the gallery space, to the objects and performances within its walls, the exhibition pushes at the limits of critique by confronting the totalizing violence of modernity and its instruments and institutions of domestication.

One striking feature of Nkomo’s practice is the diversity of media, materials, and objects – infrastructural materials associated with the built environment provide the

scaffolding for organic matter: a metal shelf displays test tubes of plant cuttings; an electrical refrigerator mechanism continually blows cold air into the exhibition space, maintaining the optimal conditions for the seed bank-seed library and cuttings and seeds to survive and grow. The natural matter finds its way into the show as mechanized, domesticated, serialized, codified, processed, commodified and prepped for exchange.

In an essay written by Ziyana Lategan about Nkomo’s Exhibition, they share “Artists engaged in the work of criticism typically follow the impulse of finding ways to subvert the market logic of the gallery, and by doing so, only serve to help the institution avoid being reduced to what it is, to what Nkomo has termed a ‘marketplace of contemplation.’ 

Nkomo’s practice is an effort to end the desire to give the violence of capital increasingly complicated veils or forms of fantasy that prevent us from seeing it precisely as it is, for what it is. To stage a performance that the artist imagines might resist capture is to miss the point of capitalist abstractions entirely: the institution, the field, frames what it contains, everything within it is always already captured. To stage the everyday practice of exchange, then, is to demonstrate how we are all implicated (by mere participation) in the (infra-)structure of violence. The interplay between the living matter and the hard and sterile brick and metal infrastructure demonstrates that things are growing, moving, changing inside the ecosystem of things, but they do so only within an already determined and limiting system. 

To experience ‘Discordant Infrastructure’ on the top floor of Everard Read, gallery goers are forced to enter through a plastic curtain typical of an abattoir entryway, where we anticipate that something is being processed. Nkomo’s manipulation of the atmosphere of the gallery, by deliberately lowering the thermostat, makes the entire space an experiment akin to Hans Haacke’s Condensation Cube (1963-1965); a closed ecosystem of violence, and we are all on the inside, keeping it alive. The ‘cruelly cold’ temperature of the gallery is meant to provide the perfect conditions for the survival of the commodities prepped for exchange, but it also mimics the weather at the time in which the parliament of South Africa is passing the Land Act that codifies the dispossession of land for black people, coincidentally, in the same year as the establishment of Everard Read Gallery: 1913. There is indeed something callous, something cruelly cold, about this discordant fact of history. While blacks were losing the last semblance of their dignity, in the heart of winter, whites were given art, presumably, for its own sake.”

All imagery courtesy of Ndumi Mbala

Nkomo’s questions are ultimately about the foundations, the ground, the basic presuppositions that must be asserted as objective truth for the abstractions

to be possible. Even more, he asks about those processes – cognitive and concrete – that serve to veil these violent historical presuppositions. Nkomo calls into question the

modes of enjoyment, leisure, beauty, protection, that we might come to defend because the violence of their roots are abstracted and obscured from us. But what happens when this veil is pierced? What forms of disorder become possible when we expose the abstract myths that provide a psychic reprieve from the violence of the everyday? These gestures are anything but minor, for to point to a system or structure, is to call everything into question.

Essay text by Ziyana Lategan

Press release courtesy of Everard Read