The DJ with a band: DJ Kassim taking Zanzibar by storm

When turntables alone started boring him, he looked for some musicians. And formed Zanzibar’s best band.

We have a date and he is punctual to the minute. We have been wondering where to do the interview, and he has prepared a comfortable setting in his mini bus taking us to his beach gig at one of Zanzibar’s most upmarket hotels, the Zuri in Nungwi. Nowadays, Kassim Barak Harith, better known as DJ KCM, has to juggle appointments like a top manager. The 34-year-old, instantly recognizably by his warm smile and room-filling stature, nods to his size: “I’m like a cartoon”, he frankly remarks while I take out my notebook, “short dreadlocks, a little bit fat, it’s easy to make a drawing of me.”

Here’s a man at ease with himself. He is in demand, he is popular and he is capable. And we have not even talked about his beats yet! No wonder, DJ Kassim is the most booked group on the isle (and is also performing at the new Futopia festival). Sometimes he shows up alone, sometimes with a nine-man band, sometimes with just four musicians – it’s a matter of payment, he confesses to me. Even with a band of their stature and appeal, musicians can be happy to receive fifty dollars each for a full night performance here.

KCM’s sound is rooted in Afrohouse, swelling in waves like a rising tide, filling up beach bars and dance floors from Fumba Town to the East and West coast. Like listening to a humming bird coming closer, fascinated audiences stop chatting and start following his sound as soon as he is at the mixing desk. Similar to early Café del Mar tunes, his music lulls you in, embraces lonely souls with a warm acoustic shawl on a chilly night.  One of his best tunes, “Move On”, is underpinned with famous Denzel Washington lines: “If you are rejected, accept it.” Is Kassim sentimental? “No, I’m quite rooted”, says the father of three dryly, a Zanzibari to the core.

The shambani studio

We are driving to his studio near Jumbe on the way to Nungwi. Behind the humble walls of an unassuming rural house hides an all-black, top-notch recording and music studio. Kassim opens the door and I don’t believe my eyes, this could be London or anywhere. On our way we passed Kibondeni. “I will be buried here”, Kassim remarked, “this is where my father comes from.” Mzee is a carpenter, his late mum was a tailor; growing up among 12 sisters and brothers in a happy family home, his dad bought him his first computer “when I was eleven years old”, Kassim recalls: “From that day on I was hooked.” But his father stirred more in him than just an appetite for electronics. “My dad has always been into Latin jazz and reggae, it was playing at home all the time, that kickstarted my interest in music”, the DJ says. The result of his fusional upbringing, so to speak, is not surprising: “I’m a traditional man but also a techno man”, he says and points to a ganun, a harp-like typical Zanzibari instrument crafted by his father, holding a place of honour in his high-tech studio.

As a qualified IT-Manager, sound engineer and producer, Kassim Harith is interested “in any new technology”, he says, a talent which has helped him to earn his daily bread. He has set up sound systems all over the island, the latest at the popular Nanasi beach club in Nungwi. Simultaneously, his artistic side matured: “Already as a teenager I took my laptop everywhere. One day my friends brought me to Mtende beach, the DJ was drunk and I took over”, he joyfully remembers: “When I was twenty, DJ Kassim was born.” Meanwhile, the turntable master with beats as well-rounded and inviting as his personality, has played in Berlin, Frankfurt and in the Dubai Marina “but only on private holidays”, as he modestly adds.

Greedy DJs

Of late he has been struggling with his art. “What is a DJ?”, he asks. ”In the early days, they were invisible, hidden behind turntables. Now they are kings.” Does he find the hype unjustified? “Yes, somehow”, he says: “Many DJs are greedy, idolised by a generation of listeners who do not like to watch live music anymore.” But not so Kassim. He started practicing with musical talents of his studio: Ezekiel Skainda on keyboard, Ben Andrew on guitar, Zarau Koya on percussion, Allan on sax, Godgift Otto on bass, violinist Felicia Mussa and Khamis Othman on ganun – most coming from  Zanzibar’s well known Dhow Countries Music Academy. “I want to uplift their struggle”, he says, “a musician has to practise so much more for a gig than a DJ, and yet he is often valued less.” His only regret: “That I don’t play more instruments myself.” His formula for merging digital and live music: “I’m like the conductor of an orchestra, I determine the beat, and only if an artist is missing, I add his part from the desk.”

Over the last two years or so, DJ KCM has become known as the DJ with a band. There’s no either-or anymore. The crowds in hotels, restaurants and clubs love it, the management doesn’t. “Of course”, he tells me with a wink: “More musicians cost the management more.” But KCM is determined to let his show go on. What did Denzel Washington whisper? “If they choose somebody over you, move on!”