Bia Winterbach’s artist alter-ego is simply called “Buh” – said as phonetically as its written, an onomatopoeic reference to a character from the enchanted Ice Age films. There is an earnestness to this fact; a subtle nod to the total unseriousness it can mean to express ourselves through a character we created, as we used to do relentlessly as children with our imaginations at the forefront of our interface with reality. Buh is visually dynamic alongside her sonic-mastery; exemplifying the DIY pathway that has erupted in independent music since the 2010’s. With software and equipment that provides access to recording, producing and shooting everything from one’s bedroom – artists like Buh pose a question to the endless middle-men and mediators in the music industry; those who take a percentage while constraining one’s creative vision. Is it really necessary?
Having sung since she was a child, and then abandoning it when moving to Johannesburg in the pursuit of adulthood, Buh’s foray back into the power of her own voice was rather unusual, “I was waitering at a café that had karaoke – and I was a terrible waiter, to be honest. I remember one evening asking if I could sing and management sort of scoffed at me, saying – you’re a waiter? You can do it when we are closing and cleaning. I’m sure they thought I had forgotten, but at 11pm I went to sing – and that was it. I was fired as a waitress and hired as a gig artist. From then on I did a lot of acoustic covers, gigging wherever I could, before deciding to make my own music.” Fate can be altered in an evening, and some things are just meant to occur – particularly with a being like Buh, who possesses a neurological (although I am convinced it’s more extra-dimensional) asset such as synthesis.
Owing its name to the Greek words “synth” (which means “together”) and “ethesia” (which means “perception), synesthesia seems to be a superpower for those of us who experience a relatively linear sensory experience – and like its descriptive root of “together perception”, one’s senses are deeply interwoven, with one sense triggering other sensory experience. For some people, it’s the vivid association of colours having specific smells, or sounds having specific numbers, and for Buh, it manifests as an influx of chromatic tessellation, “Mine is very intense, I see colours and patterns and then I turn it into music. As a kid I would walk in the garden and I would trace the outline of the plants, and I would make songs from that. I thought it was very normal to experience non-verbal life such as plants speaking to me in that way.” This experience, 6th-sensory sounding and perhaps quite surreal, has proven quite challenging as a musician, “I think it was such a blessing at a time, especially when I was younger. But it can be incredibly confusing when I set out to make music – the colours and patterns seem pre-determined, and I have very little control over it. I’m in my angst era at the moment, and the colours that come with that are really intense, and spiky…if that makes sense?” Buh explains, noting an adjective that I find illustrates her experience – colour that has texture, that is not flat or singular. Learning how to channel this ever-occurring process is part of Buh’s expression as an artist, particularly as it is so often romanticised as a wildly brilliant gift for creative beings.
Playing with the aesthetic nature of being a performer, Buh describes one’s lived experiences as the best source of inspiration she knows; while owing a lot to those who illustrate this planet with their own artistry.
Her new single, Body Of Your Dreams, is a chronicle of body dysmorphia; a hard-hitting expression of the bizarreness of disassociating from oneself in moments of intimacy. On this, Buh explains “I don’t think it’s an easy listen, and it’s not pop either – it’s more a hybrid of genres. To me the colours are dark and spiky. I am very excited about it, even if it’s been very confronting to make – but I also think it’s a very relatable subject, in a world where beauty standards are fired at us basically from birth.” Having produced, written and recorded everything for – Buh had grown tired of the power play in the studio environment, with multiple delays until she came to understand this was something she had to do on her own. Music production itself is a generally under celebrated art form – a wizardry of engineering and experimentation. Having spoken to a few women in SA music, it seems this route is the way forward for now in terms of retaining total autonomy and creative control; I am reminded of Princess Nokia’s Biohazard Butterfly era, my favourite of hers, an album made almost entirely on her own as she began stepping fully into the Nokia character. I sense the same from Buh; a transition into an unfolding of her own proclamation. Multidimensional and multi-hyphenated.
/// Keep a lookout here for Buh’s latest release, coming this May and available for pre-order now.
Written by: Holly Bell Beaton
