In the corners of Johannesburg’s creative underground, between soundchecks and smoke breaks, sits a generation of artists rewriting what it means to create with conviction. Kekeletso, better known as ‘NU-BAM’ — a trumpet player, improviser, and scholar — is one of them. His music exists in the in-between: between prayer and practice, between chaos and control. In this conversation, we sat down to talk about his rhythm, his process, and the unexpected ways stillness and movement shape his work.
Interview:
Samkelo Nkambule (SN): Hi brother, how are you?
NU-BAM (NB): I’m good, man. You?
SN: I’m good too. Can I get a young intro — who are you?
NB: Yeah… I’m Kekeletso Masemola, all the way from Joburg. I’m a musician — a trumpet player, improviser, scholar, and creator. That’s really who I am. I create.
SN: When did you start playing?
NB: It’s been about nine years now. I started when I was 15. My dad had a trumpet at home, so that’s what I picked up. At school there was a music program, but no one really taught trumpet properly. So I learned by watching, by trial and error.
At first, I actually wanted to play guitar, but I was too shy to ask. I saw there was a space for trumpet, so I just said, “Yeah, I’ll play trumpet.” And that’s how it began.
SN: What does your creative rhythm look like?
NB: It changes. Sometimes it’s meditative — like a prayer. Sometimes it’s about energy — the people I’m around, the space, the mood. I could be at rehearsal, hear a groove, and something just comes. I start humming ideas, and the music takes shape from there.
Sometimes I’m creating with friends — we’re vibing, jamming, and suddenly something beautiful happens. We record it, then come back to it later, refine it, polish it.
So yeah, my rhythm is spontaneous, but intentional. I listen, I follow feeling. That’s really it.
SN: So you’re mostly self-taught?
NB: I had teachers here and there, but most of what I know came from self-study. I had to catch up quickly when I got to varsity because everyone had years of experience. I remember walking into a trumpet class by accident — they were jamming, and I was just blown away. That’s when I knew I had to level up.
I started teaching myself how to read music, how to improvise, how to develop my own sound. I didn’t want to sound like anyone else. I wanted to build my own language.
People often say they can hear bits of influence in my playing, but I always want it to sound like me — dark, melodic, intentional. I don’t even want to sound like a trumpet player, I want to sound like me.
SN: So your creative rhythm is serendipitous — things just come together naturally?
NB: Yeah, exactly. That’s really it.
SN: When you revisit ideas you’ve created, do you recreate them exactly, or does it always change?
NB: It always changes. The first moment is pure — it’s just us vibing, being in the moment. But when we revisit, it becomes about refinement. We keep the essence but add new layers. It’s still improvisation, just more intentional.
We capture the first spark — that raw emotion — and then polish it, not to perfect it, but to make it clearer.
SN: Can you describe a moment of stillness that led to a breakthrough in your work?
NB: I don’t know if it was stillness or just life forcing me to pause. I had moved back home to Joburg — things weren’t looking great. Out of nowhere, I got a call from a guy in Australia inviting me to collaborate. It wasn’t even about money, but something in me said, “Go.”
That experience opened doors. I met incredible people, and it reminded me that stillness sometimes brings opportunities you’d never plan for. You just have to listen when they call.
SN: How do you navigate creative blocks? Do you lean into stillness or force movement?
NB: A bit of both. I believe in showing up, even when it’s hard. Every morning I have a routine — I write down ideas, even if it’s just a few words. I practice long notes, slow and focused. If it’s not coming, I rest. Watch something, take a walk.
But I always come back. Even if all I do is play one note with intention — that’s progress. When you can’t create, practice. Go back to basics. That’s where the answers are.
SN: What keeps you going creatively?
NB: Curiosity. That’s it. Curiosity and a need to hear something new. I want to create sounds people haven’t heard before. That keeps me alive.
SN: And when you play with others, how do you balance your own voice with the collective sound?
NB: By listening. That’s the secret. You have to really listen. The moment I start thinking only about myself, I lose it. Improvisation is conversation — not competition.
SN: Would you say your work has a spiritual element?
NB: Definitely. Music is prayer for me. It’s my way of connecting with something beyond myself. Every time I play, I’m communicating — not just with people, but with life itself.
SN: What advice would you give young musicians?
NB: Listen. Practice. Be patient. Don’t copy anyone. Find your own language. It’s easy to imitate, but your voice is waiting for you — and it’s sacred. Protect it. Stay curious.
SN: Looking back, what are you most proud of?
NB: Staying true. Not selling out. Keeping the music real, even when it was tough. And when people tell me they felt something — that’s everything. That’s the reward.
Conclusion
NU-BAM’s story is a reflection of patience, curiosity, and discipline. His music is a language of honesty and feeling — shaped by self-study, improvisation, and moments of stillness.
For Kekeletso, creation is both a spiritual and human act — a balance between surrender and intention, sound and silence.