Incubator: Why My 30s Need To Be A Decade For Redesign.

King Cedric Dladla

“They always haunt my dreams, the green twins with your eyes” - Zacari on “Do Better” From Ab-Soul’s Herbert.

One of the most daunting paradoxes we face as humans is the regret and self-loathing that stems from the adage: "If I knew better, I'd do better." When you quell the could-haves and objectively question the absurd, idealistic humiliation ritual, you have to wonder: WOULD you have done better? I am not saying invalidate your feelings through the lens of intellectualising them, but to exercise kindness with yourself because you did the best with what you knew at the time. Yes, we want to take accountability and not excuse ourselves when we fall short, but how often do we forget that the true path is to learn better, to do better?

It is taking me over a decade to reconcile this perspective and truly embrace it, given the

turbulent waters that coloured my 20s. In retrospect, the nuance of being introspective is a

rather double-edged sword: On one spectrum, it protects you from the evils of the world and on the other side of the coin, it disadvantages you from being able to have the perspective to, and I hate to quote Aubrey, but “To be far from hood, but to understand the streets.”

Depending on who you ask, university gave us interconnected but different spectrums of

it. Your student accommodation, your social circle, your memory-making, and those scandals

that nobody talks about all took you to other spaces that nuanced student life, and it is there

where dreams were moulded, discovered, or unfortunately lost. The overstimulation of being in

a class of over 1000 people was one thing, but being told that of all these statistic roughly 9

might make it to masters level made one realise we may be in for more than we bargained for

with academics but what choice do we have, most of us were driven there by our parents so we

can have a fighting chance in life and economic prosperity.

Only when you put life post the degree into perspective do you truly grapple with the weight

behind statements like “The first in my generation to have a university qualification.” The

expectation that came with it drove endless souls into the pits of the nightlife. It is a gift and a

curse when transitioning into the working world. Some are fortunate enough to find

employment, rarely in line with our qualifications, others reject the system entirely and tap into the risque realm of entrepreneurship, and most fall into the 12.2% quota of unemployed

graduates. It is rather startling how quickly the reality of adulthood catches up with you.

I want my story to remind the youth following me, who are already showing a semblance of

consciousness, to continually broaden their minds to what is possible and to research the nitty-

gritty behind their dreams. Since the dawn of my teenage years I dedicated my life to the word,

at the foundationary phase it was a tug of war between poetry and rap (yes they are lyrical

cousins in many respects but there is that world of difference, trust) the process behind learning both forms informed my appreciation for expression, language, the freedom of silence and the will to cut through the noise of a beat and through terribly mastered records I admit we learned that our voice can shake the streets.

I was shortsighted, I knew NOTHING about the industry, I didn’t know that one of the reasons why Icons like Anitta Baker, Diana Ross, and Quincy Jones (who I would study as my world warped beyond the lens of purely rap, when we started to become curious about the art of sampling records) would perform well into their golden years. Yes their songs were timeless,

yes we later learned that in the case of sampling them, there is a licensing fee to be paid for

sampling but we also learned the predatory nature of the goldmines of their albums, how some

songs are covers and the politics entrenched in contracts which dictate the ownership of

masters and publishing rights are a matter of life and death for the artist, they don’t always have control and they have no other outlet to make money but to tour until their knees buckle,

hencewhy most venture into different business and maximise their brand culture to make ends

meet, Young Money recently ventured into sports.

My friends and I were willing to bet everything on the art, even at the cost of education, which

was the most abysmal mistake I have made in my life. While doing the bare minimum to get

through my degree, we had makeshift writing camps, downloading tutorials to create beats,

cover arts, music videos, and "controversial" clickbait to market ourselves. How could you not lust after that life when you saw Durban make a mark in the Hip-Hop golden age through acts like Witness The Funk and Nasty C, and in the broader spectrum the rise of A-Reece and TWC, Shane Eagle, Wordz, Priddy Ugly, the reinvension of Stogie T, Cassper, Ricky, Kiernan it all made us feel like nah this is within reach, especially when producers did find their style and sound and through networking and stuff you would find the likes of Loki, Palmtree Paradise and Rhea Blek on radio, the examples were endless.

Sadly, conflict, betrayal, the first of numerous occasions where I had lost touch with reality

through the abuse of weed, overstimulation of information I was not supposed to be focused on, and the unravelling of my trauma, was my undoing. The "dream" as it were, faded into obscurity when you also looked around and realised for every 1 artist who becomes a bankable brand, there's countless signed artists who are shelved because they didn't meet the quota needed to bridge into superstardom and worse, there's countless more who never make it to the room to sign the deal or as is now with the new wave of the new school build the adequate infrastructure of being independent.

By the time it dawned on me that even the insanely talented poets do get booked, but the pay is rarely significant. They struggle with the real world to the point where a number of them meet an untimely death at a young age. It was arguably too late. The creative arts are highly

unregulated, and we have to conquer commerce while maintaining the purity of the craft to

survive and be timeless. I liked psychology and sociology to a certain extent. Still, my heart

wasn't in it, I didn't make a career plan and mapped out how I would make it to PhD level and

start a practice or better yet, get government employed, I didn't even conceive a world where I could be a Psychologist or Sociologist and still be able to be an artist, I had a misguded tunnel vision of “this is the only way I want to make it out and change the world.”

Some would argue that the more you know, the more you realise there is still more to learn, but

I am sometimes inclined to agree with Ab-Soul when he says,"The more you know, the more you wish you didn't." Information is a currency; it is the difference between squalor and wealth. It was a dangerous time to not know who you are and not have a vision for your life. It was only when we not only faced financial exclusion, academic exclusion, the advent of Fees Must Fall and constant strikes of fee increments, and the final boss, the outside world with the failing economy did we truly see, fuck, mom was right.

I will say this, COVID was part blessing, part demise. My ex, with whom life unfortunately

unravelled terribly towards the end of my twenties, did have a considerable impact on my life.

While I'd rather divulge the Shakespearean tragedy that was our life, it was my time with her in which I completed my undergrad degree, brainstormed how I would make the transition into the working world (and this was at the genesis of the digital economy), built my website and started my journey with longform writing which later evolved to music journalism, a little bit of the other sectors of the arts but mainly music.

My pen evolved, I learned to network, and I expanded opportunities for myself and her. At its

peak, though the business could have been handled better as we would later discover I would be

able to build my own Newsroom, and work with countless creatives ushering in the new chapter of South Africa's music history espeically since the wakening that COVID put into place which now is being threatened by the advent of AI, and labels downsizing; the industry is in disarray.

Being responsible for the livelihoods of others, managing clientele while battling these internal

demons, is something I carry with much shame. I felt what it was like to make a difference, to

actively go out and believe in a writer and put money into their words. Sadly, I wasn't the best negotiator, and this affects me to this day. The pressure eventually got to me, and the cascade effect of my resignation opened up a Pandora's box in many respects. My writer friends didn't blame me for mishandling the situation, but I do feel my ex indirectly did, especially since lockdown restrictions came into effect. We could all go outside again. I didn't make myself valuable enough for the label and got retrenched.

Life became less and less about vision and what I wanted for myself, and more about survival

and trying to get the next client so the money could be there, and I could play my part in the

relationship. My already fragile manhood took a knock, the passion element of writing

evaporated, and was replaced with the commercial chase of which interview or review will pay

the bills or make way for the next opportunity. I wasn't excited to write anymore. I was happy when it was over, and I could lose myself in a podcast or Netflix, and even then, I am not

listening to the podcast to learn; I am actively studying the art of conversation, only taking

information subconsciously, and I am more obsessed with the craft of conversation. It did pay

off in some respects.

But sadly, the season of loss wouldn't cease; some chapters of reconciliation and redemption took place in the foundation of my 30s, but it all came at a cost. I learned how life is when you are unable to make someone happy, when you can't show up financially, emotionally, mentally, spiritually and physically and though the foundation of the stories I have captured over time is a marvel especially since a host of those artists I have spoken to have become amazing colleagues and friends I often wonder, as I did at the start of this essay, if only I knew better. Not so long ago, I was on a call with a new industry mate I have made. I was discussing the discourse of my obsession with writing, how the gimmick behind it was always to be the best writer in the room, that even as a poet, my skillset needs to be on par with Mick Jenkins, that as a writer I need to hold my own in a room with authors like Paulo Coelho, Robert Greene, Toni Morrision, James Baldwin, Sister Souljah, my peers, I’ve always existed in this lens of competition compared to writing your truth.

The last poem I wrote in my 20s, "Paper Class Cuts" where, in the audio recording, I test

sampled the conversation Ali Muhammed (played by Coleman Domingo) had with Rue Bennet

(played by Zendaya) about revolution culture, may just have been the precursor to why my 30s

need to be a decade for redesign. My relationship with the word has evolved and crystallised

over the years, and though it brings me insurmountable suffering, I cannot, will not refuse to

live my life without the word. Wayne, Kendrick, Joey, Mick, Noname, Mac Miller, Giveon,

Anderson Paak, Solange, Freshly Ground, Billie Eilish, Tame Impala, Lapsley, Zimkitha,

Bylwansta, Dudu Busane Dube, Khaya Dlanga, Trevor Noah, Takalani M, the creators who I have and am discovering, dared to dream so that we can thread the next chapter of what art can be. I must honour that and have the word take me around the world like it's gospel.

I have lost, I have bled, I have ached, some may argue I am still aching, I am in effect paying for

my sins as well, but I do know, from what we as the youth are daring to do (for better or worse)

that reinvention is possible. My 20s taught me that I did the best I could with what I knew, that I was living countless firsts, and perhaps that is why it was messy. I cannot drown myself in hatred for the errors in my ways; it is essential to learn from them and accept them as part of

my story. This could be what Jhene means in "Magic Hour" when she says, “It ain’t perfect but everything’s beautiful now.”

I learned how to love, I learned how to build, I knew the cost of value, I knew what goes into the music business and most importantly I found myself, I found the importance of what I want to do with the word, arching, research, musicology, to charter the next wave of libraries that will teach my peers, elders and the generation that will follow us to write the new rules, the Magna Carta Way, to preserve and redefine culture. As second generation product of the group area's act whose grown to see the common threads of socio-economic and political damage we share with black bodies around the world, this calling, of my own choosing, this purpose to be reincarnated as a scribe, as I was in my Ancient Egptian past life, is for one reason independent of family, friends, or a life partner, I am the word simply because:

Dangerously, nothing changed with me; still got pain in me

Flip a coin, want the shameless me or the famous me?

How annoying, does it angers me to know the lames can speak

On the origins of the game I breathe? That's insane to me

It's important, I deserve it all because it's mine

Tell me why you think you deserve the greatest of all time, motherfucker.

‘Man At The Garden’

Kendrick Lamar