A Song About Worry, Written While Worried

The show opened on Worry, and I couldn't have picked a better way in. Then a very quiet young man walked into my studio with his younger sister, who had come to support him and had no intention of getting anywhere near a microphone. We had already had his mother, Boni Maleke, in and the rest of the Maleke family at some point, so it was only fair that he finally got his turn in the spotlight.

Banging on the fridge

His stage name came from primary school. A group of friends at break time, everyone asking everyone else what their stage name was, and the name stuck because it grew out of his surname. That was years ago and he never changed it. He didn't start out as a singer either. He started rapping with those same friends, and then at some point the recordings of his own voice began to sound less terrible, and he fell in love with singing. Soul is where he stayed, because of what it does to a person who is listening.

His mother likes to tell the story of the drum set. He was three or four, and the little drum kit his parents bought him was not enough, so he also took to banging utensils on the kitchen fridge. She maintains he damaged it. He started writing properly at eleven or twelve, which, if you do the maths on twenty-three, means he has spent more than half his life at this.

Today he does all of it himself. He builds his own instrumentals, writes the songs, records them, mixes and masters. Then there are the videos: planning, filming, editing. On the day he came to us he had been editing the lyric video for Beautiful before he drove over. "I do it all by the Lord's grace," he said, and I don't think he was being polite.

Ten years old, Bible in hand

I asked about his Christian life and he told me a story he says he holds close, though he can't pin down his age. Ten, maybe eleven. He was alone in his room when conviction hit him, and he went to his mother and told her he wanted to receive the Lord. She said grab your Bible, and she led him to Jesus right there. He still has no idea what he was doing in his room that day. He just knew.

That home, he believes, kept him. There were paths his friends went down that he never even felt the pull towards, and he doesn't put that down to willpower. It was mercy. Certain desires simply weren't there.

How the songs actually get written

He was honest about the early days. He used to write rhyming words at the end of each line and then stuff a sentence in front of them. Very elementary, he laughed. Then the question changed from what rhymes to what am I actually trying to say. Now an instrumental plays inside him first, he goes to the studio and layers it down, and the words arrive while he works. Whatever the Holy Spirit gives him in that moment is what goes on the page.

Beautiful is the example he keeps coming back to. He got stuck on the instrumental and wasn't sure where it was heading. Then the words started to flow and he realised the song was turning into evangelism, simply saying what the Lord has done and what it means for every one of us. He imagines somebody hearing the gospel in a song for the first time, or hearing it as though it were new, and that is what he is writing toward.

Grace he describes as unmerited favour, getting what we don't deserve, with a twist he clearly loves: you can't escape it. It runs after you. And Worry came the way I opened with, out of a rough season, as the Lord's own answer: don't worry, I've got you. He re-released it so it could help other people. Which, to my mind, is as close to therapy as a three-minute song gets.

An album about doing it wrong

I wanted a taste of the album and he made me work for it. What he finally said is that Heart of the King is about the ways we miss it when we represent the Lord. We go about things mechanically, without compassion. Evangelism turns into a quota, a person ticked off a list, nobody stopping to ask how they are or what is going on. He wants people to go back to the Holy Spirit leading, and to the heart and mind of Christ, so that when someone needs compassion they get compassion and when they need love they get love.

Before the album there are singles. Risen is one, a song about the sun having risen and a Saviour who is not in a grave. Beautiful is the new release. The date for the album is 27 November, and his mom and dad sent a message while we were on air saying they are proud of him. He nodded at the part where I said we expect to be among the first to hear it.

He doesn't sing at his own church, and I loved his answer to that, which was a polite not yet. He pointed to Jesus being criticised for spending time with people who drank and cheated, and the reply about the sick needing a physician. Going out is the mission, he said. I'm a photographer and my own playing field is out there too, so I took that personally, in a good way.

Questions from the lines, and one from his best friend

The first question through the lines came from his own mother, Boni Maleke, who wanted to know what has built his confidence. His anchor is the Lord, he said, and the rest is learning to stop looking left and right at what everybody else is doing. He doesn't listen to much music, he told us, and what he does listen to is jazz and gospel. He has had to trust the ability in him, and he said it is not always easy.

Then the studio guest list grew by one. His best friend Amon had come along, and used the chance to ask the question I think a lot of listeners carry around: how do I attune myself to the Holy Spirit, in whatever I do?

His answer started with practice. Some people have become so good at hearing negativity in their own heads that they've practised it into a skill. Hearing God works the same way, he said, with devotion. You get to know His character through the Word, through the pastor or apostle or teacher God has put in your church, through prayer and just being with Him. And most of the time, he pointed out, the voice is internal. Jesus looked at the crowd and felt something. Elijah didn't get fire or earthquake, he got a whisper.

Shaky legs and a thirty-person concert

I asked if he is a fan of live performance and he said yes immediately, though it wasn't always so. He used to be shy, mouth dry, legs shaking, and he hated it. What changed was realising that it is beyond him. That thought, he says, overcomes the fear. When I asked when we will see him live, he said he has no idea. I got him as far as next year, and then to a possible small session at the end of this one, thirty or forty people, maybe some jazzy carols. He was visibly thinking about it. I'm taking that as a yes.

That is what he wants for the next five years: music that reaches people and changes lives, and a chance to lift others as God lifts him. Beyond that he said he wants to be what the Lord wants him to be, and then, because I looked at him, he said he knew that sounded like a dodge and gave me a real answer. We closed with the usual trick at JustGospel, where I make the guest say the station ID with their own twist. His version was warm, a little embarrassed, and perfect. His closing words to the younger generation were about purpose. Pursue the thing God put in you, because the change you want to see in the world is something He has already placed inside you.

One more thing before you go. We have a revival coming on 14 November in Sebokeng, at five o'clock near the community centre, with a stage set up and worshippers leading. Everyone is welcome. Come and bring somebody.