The album for anyone who's done pretending.
2026
Album title
Ancient Roads
The inspiration
Fifteen tracks born from the friction between who we’re told to be and who we actually are. This isn’t background music—it’s a reckoning with the systems that keep us asleep, the masks we wear to survive, and the wild, unfiltered truth waiting underneath.
Ancient Roads fuses South African folk rock with Zulu isicathamiya harmonies and hard-hitting hip-hop. Maskandi guitar riffs. Bass drops that shake foundations. Call-and-response that sounds like uprising.
Every song is a mirror. Some will show you what you’ve been avoiding. Others will remind you who you were before the world got its hands on you.
I made this album because I was tired of performing.
Tired of watching people—including myself—grind themselves into dust chasing someone else’s definition of success. Tired of inherited hate, inherited fear, inherited limitations. Tired of seeing the sleeping giant stay asleep.
These songs are what happened when I stopped asking for permission to be honest. They’re messy. They’re defiant. They don’t apologize for demanding more from life and from ourselves.
Some of these tracks will make you uncomfortable. Good. That’s where the work happens.
The unseen rebels, the ones doing real work in the margins, the people choosing authenticity over applause—this is for you. And for anyone ready to stop sleepwalking through their one wild life.
Let’s get lost and find ourselves.
Tracklist
1
The unseen
For the ones who refuse to perform
Opening salvo against algorithm worship and curated personas. Celebrates the rebels operating in shadows—the ones planting real seeds, showing up at 3am, doing the work when no cameras are watching. No fame, no filter, just the ground we shook.
"You buy the costume, wear the borrowed words / Speak in captions that you've overheard / Monument to fear when nobody's here"/em>
2
Ancient roads
The paradox of being lost and found
Title track. An old soul searching for paths that don't exist on any map. Explores the ache of feeling out of time, disconnected from modern chaos, homesick for wild places and ancient rhythms. The forest follows you—it's written in your spine.
"Born between the pages of a book I'll never read / Raised on concrete promises that couldn't plant a seed"
3
The giant that slumbers
The awakening
Rallying cry. We signed away our power brick by brick, walked their paths, memorized their lines. But numbness is cracking. The cage was built with our own hands, which means we hold the keys. When the masses wake, mountains tremble.
"They fed us the stories, we memorized lines / Said 'this is the way' and we fell into line"
4
Failing at it
Imposter syndrome as prison
Hard-hitting fusion of folk rock and trap. Explores how comparison culture and perfection paralysis keep us stuck—scrolling through highlight reels, waiting for permission that never comes. Perfection is the thief of progress. Failing at it beats not trying at all.
"Perfection is the thief of progress, robs you blind, keeps you broke / While I'm stuck behind this locked door, man, this ain't no joke"
5
Gone too soon
For those who left before goodbye
Tribute to a brother lost 23 years ago. Blue eyes, bear hugs, hidden devastation beneath the armor. Love doesn't die when hearts stop beating—it lives in stories, jokes, and how we hold our families closer because someone showed us how.
"Movie star handshake, bear hug strong / You carried weight we couldn't see"
6
Who did you become
Return to yourself
Stripped-down reflection on trading colors for conformity. When did the wild one learn to sit and behave? Childhood self has been waiting at the door this whole time. It's not about finding yourself—it's about returning to who you were before the world rewrote you.
"Used to build castles from the dust and sticks / Now I'm stuck in traffic, autopilot quick fix"
7
Unlearning hate
Conscious choice against inherited racism
Born from apartheid-era South Africa. Nobody is born racist. Hate is learned, taught, passed down like inheritance. But it can be unlearned. Raw, honest confrontation with family legacy, choosing love as daily resistance, breaking generational chains one conscious decision at a time
"We were born into the fire / But we don't have to burn / Every lesson from the liars / Is a lesson we unlearn"
8
Love's rope
Pulling someone from the pit
Tender exploration of depression and anxiety through the metaphor of a deep, dark pit. One person holds the fraying rope with bleeding hands, lowering hope into the darkness. The other can't see the light yet but feels something falling through the black. Recovery is slow, mutual, one grip at a time.
"Down where the stone walls sweat and weep / Where the cold climbs into your bones / You've made a home in the hollow deep / But you were never meant to stay alone"
9
No honour
Prophet in your own land
Explores being unseen by those closest to you. Family and friends who knew you "before" can't fathom your growth, memorize your failures, treat your wisdom like it's coming from a child. Sometimes you must shine outward to strangers to have your light truly seen.
"They speak around my journey, past the scars I carry deep / Ask about the surface while the substance stays asleep"
10
Some days
Adapting the pour. A fun outlook.
e's daily remix. Some days need whiskey in your coffee, other days need coffee in your whiskey. No shame in adjusting your blend, changing your strategy, finding balance however you need to. Keep stumbling along, keep your head up. We're gonna make it.
"Some days it's a tot of whiskey in my coffee / Other days it's a tot of coffee in my whiskey"
11
Only so many summers
Urgency of joy. Make the most of it.
Upbeat anthem for seizing the fleeting beauty of life. Sand between toes, salt on skin, squeeze the juice and let it drip. Awareness that time is precious doesn't make us desperate—it makes us ALIVE. Roll the windows down, get lost on purpose, leave the maps behind.
"Only so many summers left to lose our minds / So let's get lost on purpose, leave the maps behind"
12
Watch me soar
Breaking ceilings imposed by others
Defiant space-mission metaphor. They set limits, drew lines in sand, built ceilings over dreams. But their boundaries were always fiction. Countdown started. Fuel ignited. Mama told me I was born with wings—now I'm proving what belief brings while they're still stuck in traffic.
"They tell me the sky is the limit, man that's bogus / None of these prophets been past the atmosphere"
13
Envy the dead
Exhaustion as scripture
Dark exploration of how we mistake motion for progress, grind ourselves to dust, wear exhaustion like badges. The dead have found their rest—but we carry possibility. The question isn't whether we're tired. It's whether we'll choose purposeful living over zombie existence.
"We made exhaustion into scripture, wear it like a crown / Midnight emails, dawn-feed scrolling, yeah we holding down"
14
Letter to young me
Grateful for the detours.
What if every wrong turn was the right one? Letter to younger self never gets sent because every reckless decision, every heartbreak, every "mistake" led exactly where it needed to. The scenic route is the only route worth taking. Grateful for the chaos that led home.
"I never would've wandered far enough / To find my way to you"
15
Little Big Sister
Honouring quiet strength
Tribute to resilience disguised as softness. Sister who became caregiver, who expanded worldviews, who rebuilt from foundation stones after being used and discarded. They mistook her gentleness for weakness. But the lioness had nothing left to prove. Your kindness is a flower that never stops blooming.
"Small hands holding something bigger than both of us"
