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text NICOLAS TYRELL SCOTT Good Friday, a time typically reserved for church, food, friends and family. In secular circles it’s often observed through rest, light socialising and other leisurely activities. For the musician born Tyla Laura Seethal, however, this year the pressure is on. Minutes away from an untypically tranquil Shoreditch High Street, a cluster of over 30 people – male models in crisp black blazers, assistants attending to their boss’s needs, make-up artists adjusting and reapplying lash extensions – flutter across a photo studio in preparation for South African music prodigy Tyla’s first Dazed cover shoot. At the top of the star’s eponymous debut album release week, she is due at Heathrow at 7pm for a flight to South Africa. A homecoming awaits. As the room quietens, the clock closes in on 5.30pm. To her manager’s annoyance, there are calls for “one last look”. We are technically done, but Dazed editor-in-chief Ibrahim Kamara and photographer Hugo Comte squeeze a few more seconds in, long enough to try out one more look. Luckily, dexterity isn’t something Tyla has had to learn recently – it’s innate. It’s how she informs decisions and it has come to define her as she emerges on to the world stage as perhaps the first true star of amapiano, South Africa’s irresistible spin on house and kwaito music styles. Tyla is visibly exhausted by the time they finally wrap. Finishing the day in a luminous tracksuit, her signature cornrows beam hard under the studio lights, in stark contrast to the black pixie cut they’ve been hidden under for most of the day. Marvelling at hair stylist Virginie Moreira’s custom wig, she shares that it’s one of the first times she has had her hair fashioned this way – it suits her. Tyla runs on a seemingly endless supply of adrenaline that has, so far, helped her maintain a schedule of back to back interviews, shows across three continents and the daily updating of her social media channels. “She’s a perfectionist,” Thato, her creative director and best friend of over a decade, tells me on set. “She’s hard-working too. That combination has been lethal over the years.” Throughout the shoot, Thato is waved over to triple-check details like clothing placements. “I can feel her confidence and assuredness growing. It’s as if she’s become a woman [through] this album process. She’ll make that extra e ort to get it right.” “Water”, her debut single, filtered into ears everywhere last year, dominating 2023’s third and fourth quarters after amassing top 10 positions on home turf, in the US and in many European markets. Its magnetism lies in its lyrical hooks, Tyla explicit in her demands to make her sweat and lose her breath atop hypnotic synths and entrancing log drums. “I always want to be authentic to myself,” she says. “When I make music and speak on mature things, this is how it comes out, this is how I express it.” Tyla has a penchant for innuendo, and doesn’t take to songs that are too on-the-nose. “I think it’s cool when people find out [what I mean] along the way, I enjoy music that’s deeper [where] you need to dissect it to find out what’s really happening.” Tyla’s coyness is informed by her childhood in Johannesburg. As is customary in many South African households, she was never allowed to swear or watch people kiss on TV growing up – “It’s not very comfortable for African parents and kids to watch TV together, and I’m not able to be that open about things like cussing,” she says of her relationship with her family. “It doesn’t feel like Tyla.” “Water” taking o was not something that Tyla was mentally ready for, and its phenomenal success meant the team around her had to quickly realign. “We were low-key scrambling,” she says with a laugh. “I was like, ‘How am I gonna let people know my name?’ I never want it to be the case where the song is huge and people don’t know who I am.” Sammy SoSo, “Water”’s producer, remembers the moment the song really took o – he was inundated with calls on the day his daughter was born last September. “Tyla had changed the [song’s dance] routine with her choreographer for a performance in Rwanda [where] she poured water on herself,” says SoSo of the clip, which quickly went viral on TikTok. “Everything changed.” I’m reminded of a widely shared video of Nigerian football fans pouring water on themselves at a game against a South African side in February, in reference to the hit. Whether it’s dancing bacardi, lifting from her home region’s musical styles or infusing moves from her choreographer, Lee-ché Janecke, Tyla brings South Africa wherever she goes. It’s something she refuses to negotiate on. “I’m so proud we get to do this as a South African team,” she says on set. Amapiano has benefitted from the global reach that social media o ers, especially now musicians are able to network and collaborate relatively e ortlessly. Just like Tyla, the genre’s major names, from Uncle Wa es to Kabza De Small, have enjoyed successes well outside of the country’s borders. The sound of amapiano shocked Tyla when she was introduced to it at 14. Familiar with the tempos and sounds in passing, she, Thato and others first heard Kwiish SA’s viral tune “Iskhathi (Gong Gong)” during a free school period. “That song, that log drum… It’s insane,” she says. “Hearing it in speakers and at parties I knew that the way it made me feel, [amapiano] had to be bigger than this.” Tyla had always wanted to be a music star. Videos of her singing Justin Bieber at 11 years old lie deep on YouTube to this day, but her infatuation with “Gong Gong” prompted a full embrace of amapiano and, eventually, her own amalgamation of the genre. Her first dalliance was a relatively throwaway three-minute pop number, and it wasn’t until 2019’s “Getting Late” that Tyla experienced her first taste of virality, culminating in a debate on socials around Tyla’s place in the amapiano scene. In hindsight, it was an early indication that she was doing something di erent. “There weren’t people singing on amapiano at the time,” she recalls, “just longer songs, around seven minutes with chants.” The song sparked a wave of makeshift monikers and sonic descriptors from amapiano enthusiasts online. “‘This is cool, but this isn’t really amapiano, it’s popiano,’” Tyla recalls one of the comments saying. The song pricked the ears of Epic Records president Ezekiel Lewis, who signed her to the imprint in 2021. “I call her the most precious African export,” declares Lewis. “She’s a vehicle; she’s bringing palatable forms of music from the continent to global audiences.” After signing her, Lewis spent some time in a locked-down Dubai with the singer to hone her sound. “I had to pick a place on Earth where people from America, South Africa and the UK could go that wasn’t banned,” he says. Inaugural recording sessions included contributions from the likes of Tricky Stewart, will.i.am and Native Beats. “It was during these sessions that I realised the [general] recording experience was an area to help Tyla adjust into.” Opposite page: Tyla wears leather jacket LOUIS VUITTON, polyamide bra and shorts KNWLS, rhodium-plated copper earrings PANCONESI, patent faux-leather shoes ALL IN (all worn here and in next spread, left). Top image, bottom row, from left: Michael wears cotton suit FENDI, cotton shirt THOMAS PINK, tie stylist’s own (all worn throughout). Gabriel wears all clothes and accessories as before. Marvin wears viscose blazer DRIES VAN NOTEN, cotton shirt THOMAS PINK, polyester and wool trousers GUCCI (all worn throughout). Je rey wears all clothes and tie as before, steel and leather watch OMEGA. Ronald wears all clothes and accessories as before 187187878787181818

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