IN CONVERSATION WITH MERCY PAKELA
Why Mercy Pakela Matters?
Mercy Pakela is a South African Living Legend — not by title, but by contribution, endurance and impact. She has seen it all. From the golden era of live bands, vinyl and packed stadiums to today’s digital, fragmented music economy, she has lived every chapter of our cultural history.
She has worked alongside some of the greatest artists this country has ever produced. She understands the limelight, the sacrifices behind it, and the systems that both elevate and exploit creatives. Mercy Pakela knows the industry from the inside — on stage, in studios, behind contracts and within communities.
What makes her voice even more important today is that she has never stepped away. She remains actively involved in the Cultural and Creative Industries, present in artist engagements, policy conversations and grassroots spaces. She is unapologetically vocal in advocating for artists’ rights, dignity and sustainability. She speaks not for relevance, but for responsibility.
At a time when the state of South Africa’s Cultural and Creative Industries demands honesty, memory and courage, it is critical that we listen to those who built the foundations we stand on. Mercy Pakela’s insights are not nostalgic — they are instructive, urgent and deeply rooted in lived experience.
It is time we honour our Living Legends while they are still alive — by listening to them, learning from them, and allowing their wisdom to guide the future of our creative economy.
This is why we listen to Mercy Pakela.
Image Source: Mercy Pakela
Mercy Pakela, your voice and presence helped define an era in South African music. When you reflect on the industry during your shining days compared to today, what stands out most in terms of how the music landscape has evolved?
When I look back at our time, South African music was vibrant and raw. We recorded with live instruments in proper studios, with big sound systems. The music had weight — you could feel the vibration. It woke something in the listener because it was authentic.
Our sound dominated radio stations and television. It was rich with percussion, marimba bass, and live bands. We fused Afropop with Mbaqanga, Marabi and Kwela, and our lyrics spoke directly to the anti-apartheid struggle. We were not just entertainers — we were storytellers and carriers of the people’s pain and hope.
We performed live, always with full bands, and we filled stadiums — sometimes up to 250,000 people. We shared stages across genres and generations with greats like Bra Steve Kekana, Nana Coyote, the Soul Brothers, Sipho “Hotstix” Mabuse, Harari and Stimela. It didn’t matter that we were different styles — we stood together as one united force.
We also had strong sponsorships, like the Lion Lager Roadshow, which took us to all nine provinces every year. Bands of the 80s — Brenda Fassie and the Big Dudes, Yvonne Chaka Chaka and Midnight Express,Danny Kamazu, Mercy Pakela and Casino, Dan Tshanda and Splash, Dalom Kids, Chicco Twala and Zinzi — we were fire-blazing, Baba.
In fact, we created platforms where political leaders could speak. People like Tata Nelson Mandela, Mama Winnie Mandela and Zindzi Mandela were given space at our events. We were not celebrities — we were the mouthpieces of society.
We served the needs of the people, and that is why we are still remembered today. Music consumption was physical. We went directly to the grassroots. We marketed our music personally — in shebeens, before taverns were even a thing. Myself, Brenda Fassie and Chicco Twala would go to places like Babsy Mlangeni’s club in Mlapo and Rowena in Rockville, carrying our vinyls and cassettes, performing on top of tables to promote our work.
That connection worked. When an album was released, people would queue at record bars to buy it because they had met us. Sales escalated because the relationship was real.
Today, things are very different. Music is digitised. It lives online through streaming platforms. Artists can reach millions instantly. Stars like Kizz Daniel and Amapiano producers such as DJ Maphorisa dominate digitally, but performances often involve smaller crowds and backing tracks instead of live bands.
The environment has also changed. Stadiums and indoor venues are not as safe or as accessible as they were in the 80s. But at the same time, digital platforms allow today’s artists to reach global audiences — something we did not have.
The South African music landscape has shifted with technology and evolving genres — from Gqom to Amapiano, with energetic dances like Kamo Mpela, which I love, by the way. The 90s Afropop of Mafikizolo almost carried our standards forward, while artists like Nomcebo and others have blended traditional sounds with modern beats and dance routines. It’s a phenomenon.
So when I compare the times, it comes down to intimacy versus scale.
In the 80s, we were deeply connected to society and addressed social and economic realities.
Today, digital music offers massive global reach — but the intimacy is different.
Both eras have power — just expressed in different ways.
Today, digital music offers massive global reach — but the intimacy is different.
Image Source: Mercy Pakela
South African music has undergone major shifts — from vinyl and cassettes to digital streaming. In your view, has this evolution empowered artists, or has it introduced new forms of exploitation?
The music industry has definitely gone through a major shift, but calling it transformation might be a stretch. Distributors now dictate and determine the terms of business, and they hold most of the financial power.
Artists create the music, pay for studio time, cover marketing costs, build images and stage personalities — yet we are still at the mercy of distributors who sometimes offer as little as 15% from work that generates hundreds of percent in returns.
So yes, this is just a new form of exploitation — exploiting the already exploited, using technology as a cover.
Image Source: Mercy Pakela
How do you think the role, value and treatment of artists today compare with what you experienced earlier in your career, particularly in terms of contracts, ownership and respect for creative labour?
The role of the artist has not really changed — but the treatment is still appalling. That is the harsh reality.
The music industry is rigged in many ways. Entertainment lawyers are crucial, yet even then, artists are often powerless. Standard contracts are drafted to favour record labels and distributors, and artists are rarely able to negotiate or tweak those terms.
Big players come with entire legal teams, while artists stand alone. Ownership remains out of reach for many creatives, and respect for creative labour is still something artists have to fight for every single day.
Image Source: Mercy Pakela
From your experience, where do you believe the biggest policy gaps lie in the South African music industry today? What legislation or frameworks are missing, weak, or poorly implemented?
Arts, culture and heritage in South Africa face serious policy gaps and structural challenges.
One of the biggest issues is opaque funding processes. For example, the Mzansi Golden Economy initiative has often been criticised for a lack of transparency in its adjudication processes. This creates frustration, uncertainty and mistrust among artists.
There is also an inadequate policy framework overall. Artists are rarely meaningfully involved in drafting policies, and creatives are largely excluded from decision-making structures that govern their own industries. This leads to misalignment, poor resource management and policies that do not reflect real sector needs.
Another critical gap is the lack of sector-specific policies. Sub-sectors such as live performance, visual arts and craft face unique challenges, yet there are no tailored frameworks to address them properly.
Lastly, there is insufficient support for indigenous musicians and 80s legends, many of whom face serious socio-economic challenges today. There are limited education, preservation and legacy programmes to protect their contributions and livelihoods.
Until these gaps are addressed, the industry will continue to recycle inequality instead of correcting it.
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Image Source: Mercy Pakela
You have consistently emphasised learning and awareness. How important is education — both formal and informal — for artists navigating today’s industry, and what knowledge do you wish more young musicians had?
My strongest desire for young, upcoming musicians is for them to first learn and understand the music business value chain before the practicalities.
The music industry is a dog-eat-dog industry, and without this knowledge, artists are easily exploited.
Breaking down the importance of education, formal education plays an imperative role in an artist’s life — both then and now. The education system has its own perks.
Formal education provides structure and a foundation in technique, theory and history. It gives access to resources and materials, mentors and networking opportunities, which can be very beneficial for learning specific skills such as music theory, painting and sculpture.
However, it can also be restrictive in terms of creative freedom.
Informal education offers flexibility and autonomy in learning. It often focuses more on practical, real-world experience and can be more accessible, especially for those who cannot afford formal education.
However, it may lack structure and guidance, particularly when it comes to self-sustainability.
In truth, the arts offer many options to learn and grow. Many successful artists are self-taught, while others combine both formal and informal education. What matters most is awareness and understanding how to navigate the industry.
Image Source: Mercy Pakela
Music has always played a powerful role in our communities. How do you see the arts contributing to social cohesion, healing and identity, especially in communities that remain economically marginalised?
Music plays a pivotal role in shaping our societal needs. It is multifaceted and deeply cultural.
When it comes to identity formation, music helps define who we are. It carries our cultural identity, heritage and traditions, especially in communities that have been marginalised and silenced for a long time.
Through storytelling, music conveys our history — it carries memories of past events, myths and legends, and passes cultural knowledge from one generation to another. This is how communities remember who they are.
Music also strengthens social cohesion. It brings people together across all spheres of life and fosters unity through shared experiences — whether in celebration, protest, mourning or healing.
In terms of spiritual expression, music is a powerful medium for faith, healing and connection. It reinforces our cultural values and norms and gives people strength during difficult times.
For economically marginalised communities, music is not just entertainment — it is survival, identity, healing and hope.
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