In Conversation with Lu Dlamini
Gido by Lu Dlamini is more than just an album, it is a heartfelt conversation between the past and present, woven together through melodies that carry the weight of memory, healing, and connection. Drawing from deeply personal experiences while speaking to universal truths, Lu Dlamini uses her music as a vessel for storytelling, cultural preservation, and emotional reflection. It is an offering that invites listeners to pause, feel, and remember.
The eight-track album serves as a beautiful archive and a deeply personal tribute to her late mother. With an incredible list of collaborators, including Madala Kunene on his signature madalaline guitar style, Andile Yenana on piano, Marius Botha on guitar and production, Steve Newman on smooth talker guitar, Riley Giandhari on drums, Zibusiso Makhathini on piano, Ntobeko Shandu on bass, and Qadasi on umrhubhe, Lu Dlamini takes listeners on a journey filled with stories of love, hope, and resilience.
The album comes years after her previous release, Ulimilam, which dropped in 2016. Reflecting on her intentions at the time, she says, “Ulimilam came from me wanting to interrogate my relationship with the world and the universe. What am I here for? Is it to conquer my mind and think more positively? That’s how the project came about. I spent some time in Eswatini with uBabe’ Dlamini, who gave me clarity about my family’s lineage.”
Though the gap between Ulimilam and Gido may seem long, it reflects her creative process. “I take my time because I have to live first. I love doing things that are themed so that they align with my outreach project, which aims to share knowledge.”

Her outreach programme, Art Knows No Boundaries, teaches and exposes young people to indigenous instruments, ensuring that “future audiences” gain valuable insights into South African arts and culture. Having grown up in a musically rich family, Dlamini understands the impact of knowledge sharing, and this passing on of wisdom is woven throughout Gido.
Dlamini describes the making of the album as both painful and beautiful. Reflecting on how Black people, as an oppressed race, were made to feel inferior, she shares her intention: “One of the most important things for me was to ensure that whoever listens to this music feels and knows that they’re enough. I wanted the music to make us think about the kind of people we once were before colonialism and apartheid. We were regal people rooted in Ubuntu, and if we always remember that, we won’t forget the philosophy that binds us as a people.”
The opening track, Ngcwele (“holy”), is a moving expression of gratitude to those who have supported her throughout her life. “My life has been supported by a lot of people, some without even realising it. I spent four years in Brazil, and when I came back, my family was as strong as ever. It was as if I had never left. Going away didn’t affect my friendships, I still have the same friend from Sunday school who doesn’t miss any of my shows. Ngcwele is a dedication to the people in my life who I deem holy. It’s my way of helping people see themselves as holy, and a reminder to put God first, that’s why I started with it.”
The title track, which appears fourth on the album, is named after her mother, Kitomena, who was affectionately known as Gido. “My mom was born in 1929, before the apartheid regime. There was colonialism, but apartheid had not yet been implemented. When my mom was born, Kitomena (Cato Manor) was the place to be, an upbeat and diverse community. In 1948, apartheid was introduced, and a few years later the Group Areas Act was enforced. This caused immense suffering as people were removed from their homes and placed in locations with nothing, people were essentially being dumped. So much happened during this time, and the history of Kitomena is still yet to be properly documented. Many relationships were built and destroyed during the fight against this unjust displacement.”
Another standout moment on the album is track seven, Ithemba (“hope”), which incorporates a prayer adapted from a Wesleyan hymn by Dlamini’s mother. “After we prayed as a family and everyone went to their rooms, my mom would pray for all her children again before sleeping. She would sing the hymn and then pray afterwards. That was my mother’s prayer every day, and it stayed with me.”
This song serves as a reminder of how hope can anchor us and guide our steps, ensuring that we do not fall.
Love is at the heart of this body of work, love that moves us to forgive, support, show compassion, and hold on to hope. All of this is communicated in just eight songs. Gido is a journey, and Lu Dlamini invites us to walk this path of remembrance and resilience alongside her.

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Having read, I’m 100% going to play the album. I do wish you had spoken more (or longer), but some things are as long as they can be. Thank you for writing it. When you said, “madaline” was that an adjective/adverb you coined out of necessity or is that generally how Madala Kunene’s style is generally referred to? Regardless, that was my favourite riff in the article that i kept going back to.
This was a great read. Very well written and I’m going to check the record out!