Sampa the Great Is Australian Blaxcellence

A dull hum reverberates around the stage at the Sydney Opera House as Sampa The Great’s husky voice travels across the darkened room. 

“So much life. So much freedom. Free spirit. Wandering spirit. Lost. Trying to remember the lifestyle. Shrinking down to versions that once was.”

It’s an introduction that defines the trajectory of the show to come: That Black women – no matter how small they’re told to be – are at the centre of their own destiny.

It’s a sentiment that’s been front of mind lately, especially in the context of Australian music. It’s a “baby” music industry compared to its counterparts in the US and UK, and though there’s been ebbs and flows between popular genres in the past, it’s no secret that an exclusive set of tastemakers have been defining who and what we should be listening to for the past few decades. 

Best Soul/R&B Release and Best Hip Hop Release were only introduced to the Arias in 2019, for god sakes. 

But with the streamline of R&B into the mainstream, as well as music that’s long been defined as “urban” in countries like the US, Australia has since followed suit with a boom of diverse artists redefining the landscape in exciting ways: whether that be through the rise of drill in Sydney’s Western suburbs or the hip hop and R&B scene elsewhere.

We’ve long been in dire need of a shake up, and with artists like Sampa The Great repping it for the isolated island overseas, she’s opening up doors for not only diverse artists, but more specifically, black women everywhere. 

It’s a sentiment that Sampa has proven many times over. She and her band were the first Zambian collective to play at Coachella and the first at Sydney Opera House – an achievement she shares in her own words after exploding onto the stage, with arching red shoulder pads, between an entourage of energetic dancers – all of whom, by the show's end, she’s introduced to the crowd by name.

It’s a familial connection that adds to the electrifying production of the show – there is no shortage of on-stage chemistry, and as her sister, Mwanjé, stands to her left – a top bun defining her free-flowing locks – she cheers:

“Never forget where you came from, never forget where you’re going.”

It’s with these words that Sampa dives into an eclectic collection of songs, twisting her own Zambian roots and afro-centric influences with sounds you might find in the hip hop mainstream. 

“We want to define African music by us,” she says. And it’s obvious that she’s doing it. 

In a nearly 2-hour show, and to an Australian audience that she hasn’t performed to since before the pandemic, her lyrics she explore stories of colonialism, her ancestors and her journey to self acceptance. Between songs, her dialogue nitpicks the music industry, the closed doors and the cement walls. At one point she stares down at her hands, “but you always had the key. But we’re not asking anymore, we’re breaking the door down.”

There’s an overwhelming positivity to Sampa’s message. And it’s no doubt backed by a recent and unexpected visit to her home country of Zambia – one that saw her extend her stay due to the claws of the pandemic. For her, it’s a trip that redefined her artistry and reconnected her to her roots. She learned to become Sampa-at-home. 

Importantly, she brought that back to Australia, too.

In her most pivotal moment at the Opera House, Sampa turns to Mwanjé: “black women are told how to look, how to act,” she says, her voice reverberating in a low hum across the seated audience, readying to introduce the next track.

“This is ‘Black Girl Magik’.” 

As the show comes to an end and Sampa’s themes of blaxcellence rain down on the heads of the audience, a lingering storyline of family, connection and breaking barriers in music comes to fruition. 

As the last song plays – a thumping track that quivers the stage – Sampa and her crew raise their fists at the last note.

“We’re just a couple of African kids trying to do their thing here,” are some of her final words.

“This is an Afro Future.”

As the crowd erupts in applause, Sampa and the dancers end in a huddle on the stage as “Change” by 2Pac fills the hall.

That’s just the way it is, things’ll never be the same.

With Sampa around, indeed they won’t.

Follow Julie Fenwick on Twitter and Instagram.

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