‘Meraki*’: 6242 siphum’eTinarha

Review By Sivu Genu

In a world that is vehemently pushing us towards global citizenship, and one that no longer celebrates individuality but praises conformity, it brings me joy seeing a postal code record that pays homage to where the artist hails from and seeks to set the tone immediately. 

Liamar doesn’t have delusions of grandeur. He is actively manifesting his future on this record.

“I’m a hustler, bra. God is going to make a plan for me. uSatan ungam’vumeli.”

We are promptly met with the reality of chasing our life’s purpose on “Kunzima.” 

The hardships of knowing what your soul and heart call for but not having a failsafe plan to get there is a battle that many creatives face in our day and age. What brings comfort and inspires joy is that Liamar is self-aware. In a cadence and delivery that is reminiscent of Kendrick Lamar’s slow and reflective performance on “YAH,” Liamar tells a story of unconditional love for your life’s calling. On the record, he cites uncomfortable conversations with his mother, and there’s a feeling of hopeful despair - a feeling that I would implore all artists to familiarize themselves with.

Cover Art For “Meraki*”

Liamar clearly loves this journey as he continues to reminisce about old days but has no inkling as to how he will make it out, resolving the song with the oddly hopeful exit line, “mfethu Kunzima.” 

By the time we get to “Sparks Fly, Hard Left,” we are fully immersed in Liamar’s creation. He glides on this record like a skater on ice - with incredible grace and fluid form. As we get comfortable, we are expeditiously swooped into a separate part of his being that deals with matters of the heart, and this part of the song only solidifies the notion that our generation has lost its way in the matters of love. 

“Found me some peace in relations with drugs, don’t say you love me - we know it’s a dud.” 

An obviously conflicting position when compared to Liamar’s unrelenting passion and love for his journey with music. 

As I reach the halfway mark of this project, a thought crosses my mind. 

There is an obvious and loud contrast between the unwavering faith Liamar places in his music versus the cynicism that seeps through his pores when it comes to matters of the heart. As we journey on, I can’t help but be excited to see other aspects of this artist’s psyche and how that motivates the rest of the project. 

“Not the type to talk a lot, ndiz’tyel’Amacwaka.”

“Amacwaka” serves as a welcomed response to the thoughts expressed above. It is not that I was waiting to sit through a project of counterfactual fretting, but being jolted out of my introspection by a song as bouncy and infectious as “Amacwaka” brought me joy. 

Liamar not only loves this journey that he is on, but he is dedicated to allowing his value to shine through his work rather than grandstanding and creating a false sense of importance. This alone, solidifies Liamar as the kind of artist our industry needs right now. 

This is an artist who has crafted a world that reveals exactly who they are and what motivates them. 

The project is not particularly dense in subject matter - and I know that’s intentional. 

Every choice feels deliberate, as if this project is merely a glimpse of a larger vision - somewhat of a signpost of what’s to come. 

Listening to it, you realize you’re not just hearing a rapper; you’re witnessing an artist with a fully realized vision, expertly put into motion. 

As “Legend” and “Ubuphi” usher us out of Liamar’s home of manifestations, we finally arrive at the answer to the earlier question of his motivations - though, in truth, I might have known it all along. 

This is a man who cares, longs, strives, and hungers for success. 

“Ubuphi” poses an age-old, piercing question: “Were you actually with me shooting in the gym?” 

Through it all, Liamar proves he possesses not only the hunger and artistic talent, but also the pop sensibilities to be a hit-maker (though that may not yet be obvious to many) and the foresight to become a force to be reckoned with.

Writer’s note 

Thank you for making isiXhosa undeniably wavy on wax. 

Siyabulela, Bhuti.