Wynton Marsalis performing with the Jazz at Lincoln Centre Orchestra
By Simon Manda
Sunday, 28th September 2025 — The Final Note: There’s something almost spiritual about the final day of a jazz festival. As I arrived at the Sandton Convention Centre just after five in the evening, slightly breathless from the Johannesburg traffic and nursing the regret of having missed Steve Dyer’s performance (though I was determined to catch him for a face-to-face interview), I could already feel the electricity in the air. The foyers were alive with thousands of revellers—mostly middle-aged jazz aficionados, smartly dressed, their faces animated with that particular joy that comes from three days of immersion in world-class music.
The convention centre had become a living organism of sound, with music spilling from different floors, drawing people like musical sirens. I watched as crowds criss-crossed paths in the foyers, programme pamphlets in hand, making those delicious split-second decisions about which stage to visit next. It’s the kind of beautiful problem one wants to have: being spoilt for choice amongst an embarrassment of riches.
Opening Invocations
My evening began on the Diphala Stage with Jazzmeia Horn from the USA, whose opening song set the spiritual tone for what would become an unforgettable night. Before she sang, she offered a prayer that felt less like a performance preamble and more like a genuine invocation: “I pray that someone gets revived by this peace—something goes into your body, your soul, your blood cells, your vessels and changes the beat that you are. Sounds and vibrations—these go into water, and our bodies are composed of 80% water. I pray that these smooth, beautiful vibrations from the most High get in there. This is called Destiny.”
What followed was precisely that—destiny manifesting in melody. Horn’s voice, rich and textured, seemed to literally vibrate through the space, validating her words about sound and water and transformation. It was one of those moments where you stop thinking about the technical aspects of performance and simply allow yourself to be moved.
A Dance Between Stages
Taking advantage of the breaks between sets, I embarked on my vertical pilgrimage through the convention centre’s floors, determined to capture at least glimpses of the extraordinary talent on offer. On the Dinaledi Stage, I caught Cameron Ward’s closing tribute to the late, great Hugh Masekela. As he performed “Thuma Mina” and “Chileshe“, two of Masekela’s most beloved compositions, there was a palpable sense of reverence in the audience. Ward’s guitar sang with both respect for the master and confidence in his own voice—a difficult balance that he struck beautifully.
The Mbira Stage offered a different flavour entirely. Mondli Ngcobo was closing his set, and I arrived just in time to witness him navigating the treacherous waters of covering contemporary hits with jazz sensibility. His rendition of Kelly Khumalo’s “Asine” was bold, transforming the popular track into something that honoured both its origins and the jazz tradition. Then came The Manhattans’ “Let’s Just Kiss and Say Goodbye“—that soul classic given new life through his interpretation. The title felt poignant given it was the Joy of Jazz festival’s final evening; we were, in a sense, preparing to kiss this magical weekend goodbye.
West African Waters
A brief sojourn to the Conga Stage introduced me to Alune Wade from Senegal, whose opening numbers immediately transported the audience across the continent. His bass guitar work was melodious in that distinctively West African way—intricate, conversational patterns that seemed to dance between traditional griot storytelling and contemporary jazz sophistication. The rhythms were hypnotic, built on those rolling, cyclical patterns that characterise the music of that region, with Wade’s fingers creating cascading waterfalls of notes that somehow felt both ancient and thoroughly modern. His sound spoke of Dakar’s vibrant music scene, of the Atlantic coastline, of centuries of musical tradition filtered through a contemporary sensibility.
The Masterclass
But the icing on the cake—no, the entire bakery—came with the closing performance on the Dinaledi Stage. The Jazz at Lincoln Centre Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis, led by the nine-time Grammy Award winner, delivered just over an hour of what can only be described as a jazz masterclass. This wasn’t merely a performance; it was an education, a celebration, and a profound act of cross-cultural respect rolled into one magnificent package.
The orchestra, consisting of fifteen permanent members, opened their set with a deeply moving tribute to three South African jazz masters. First came Feya Faku’s “Lulutho’s Corner“, with the incomparable Nduduzo Makhathini on piano, his fingers dancing across the keys with that particular magic that has made him one of our finest contemporary pianists. The conversation between Makhathini and the orchestra was sublime—a dialogue across continents unified by the universal language of jazz.
Then came Kippie Moeketsi’s “Scullery Department“. Before they began, Marsalis took the microphone to contextualise the piece, announcing: “This is the master who showed Hugh Masekela and Abdullah Ibrahim—he taught everybody the language and the meaning of music and the freedom in this era. We all aspired to him.” In that moment, Marsalis wasn’t just a visiting American maestro; he was a student paying respect to teacher, acknowledging the African roots of the music that has sustained his entire career.
The trio of South African tributes concluded with Winston “Mankunku” Ngozi’s “Yakhal’inkomo“—that haunting, powerful anthem that never fails to stir something deep in the South African soul. Hearing it interpreted by this world-renowned orchestra was nothing short of transcendent.
The Full Orchestra Buffet
What followed showcased exactly why the Jazz at Lincoln Centre Orchestra has built such a formidable legacy since its formation in 1988, performing vast repertoires from rare historic compositions to commissioned works. We were treated to the full range of their capabilities—from intimate, conversational passages between sections to thunderous ensemble moments that shook the very foundations of the convention centre.
The brilliance of the instrumentation was on full display, with two special guests adding extraordinary spice to the performance. Ghanaian djembe virtuoso Weedie Braimah brought the ancient rhythms of West Africa into dialogue with the orchestra’s sophisticated arrangements, his hands dancing across the drum with a mastery that spoke of centuries of tradition whilst feeling utterly contemporary. And vocalist Shenel Johns—whose voice moves effortlessly between jazz, gospel, and R&B—added layers of emotional depth and soul-stirring power to the proceedings. Her presence transformed certain pieces into something almost spiritual, her vocal flights weaving through the orchestral textures like a golden thread through rich fabric.
Each musician was a master, but together they created something that transcended individual virtuosity. The trumpet section’s precision, the saxophone section’s warmth, the rhythm section’s inexorable swing, Braimah’s djembe adding textural complexity and rhythmic vitality, Johns’ voice soaring and swooping with breathtaking range—it was like watching a perfectly calibrated machine that somehow retained all the spontaneity and emotion of improvised music. We received appetisers, main courses, and desserts, all served with the kind of polish and sophistication that comes from years of playing together. And we, the audience, lapped up every second of the offering—the full Monty, as it were.
What a befitting cap to the 2025 edition of the Joy of Jazz festival.
A Weekend of World-Class Offerings
Of course, Sunday’s magnificence was built on the foundations laid over the preceding days. Friday’s opening night had set the bar impossibly high. The Dinaledi Stage alone was a masterclass in programming excellence, opening with the contemplative elegance of Andile Yenana before Lakecia Benjamin brought her five-time Grammy-nominated saxophone prowess to bear—that warm, resonant tone that melds R&B, jazz, and funk into something utterly contemporary yet deeply rooted.
Then came Thandi Ntuli with Blk Elijah & The Children Of Moroë, featuring special guests Sipho “Hotstix” Mabuse and Om Alec Khaoli—a performance that bridged generations and reminded us of the unbroken thread of South African jazz excellence. Esperanza Spalding, the five-time Grammy-winning bassist whose latest work honours the spirit of friendship and transcends generations, preceded the first appearance of the Jazz at Lincoln Centre Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis, giving us a preview of the Sunday night magic to come.
But Friday’s riches weren’t confined to one stage. On the Diphala Stage, Jazzmeia Horn had opened proceedings with that spiritual invocation I would witness again on Sunday. The Mbira Stage offered the soulful contemporary sounds of Elaine and the emotionally powerful Amanda Black, whilst the Conga Stage introduced us to the Swiss excellence of Fischermanns Orchestra and the incomparable Meshell Ndegeocello from the USA, alongside Mali’s legendary Oumou Sangaré—three continents represented in one evening’s programming on a single stage.
Saturday continued this embarrassment of riches. The Dinaledi Stage showcased our finest, with Benjamin Jephta’s Quintet celebrating a decade with their “Homecoming 10 Year Anniversary” performance, and Siya Makuzeni’s Big Band demonstrating the vitality and ambition of South African jazz today. Nomfundo Xaluva’s set was, by all accounts, transcendent—her singular voice and songwriting creating moments of pure beauty. On the Conga Stage, the Guitar Convergence brought together Moss Mogale, Vusi Mahlasela, and Billy Monama in what must have been an extraordinary dialogue between strings and souls. Steve Bedi from Ghana and the return of Alune Wade offered further proof of Africa’s continental jazz conversation.
The programming across all four stages—Dinaledi, Diphala, Conga, and Mbira—reflected a curatorial vision that was both ambitious and deeply thoughtful. From Turkey’s Hakan Basar Trio to Canada’s Simon Denizart, from the Czech Republic’s Najponk Trio to the USA’s The Baylor Project, the international contingent complemented rather than overshadowed the South African talent. Eswatini’s Velemseni, Lesotho’s Leomile, Zimbabwe’s Sylent Nqo & The Noise Makers, and the DRC/SA’s Tresor reminded us that this was not just South Africa’s premier jazz festival, but Africa’s.
The calibre of performers across all three days demonstrated Standard Bank’s unwavering commitment to this art form and to providing music revellers with access to world-class jazz. This was programming that respected the intelligence of its audience whilst remaining accessible to those just discovering the genre. It honoured heritage whilst celebrating innovation. It centred African voices whilst creating space for global dialogue.
The Agony of Choice
Reflecting on Sunday evening, I’m acutely aware of the performances I couldn’t attend. As I made my way between floors, catching glimpses and snatches of brilliance, I was constantly torn. Should I have stayed longer at the Conga Stage to hear more of L’wei Netshivhale, the South African artist whose work I’d been meaning to explore? The programme showed Kyle Shepherd Trio performing on the Diphala Stage at the same time I was elsewhere—Kyle Shepherd, one of our most sophisticated pianists, whose improvisational genius I would have loved to witness.
Mandla Mlangeni’s “Oratorio of a Forgotten Youth” had opened the Dinaledi Stage at half past two in the afternoon, and I simply wasn’t there yet. What stories did that piece tell? What memories did it invoke? On the Mbira Stage, Muneyi, Berita, and The Muses were performing whilst I was traversing floors and stages. Each name on that programme represented hours of dedication, years of honing craft, lifetimes of musical dialogue. And I could only be in one place at a time.
The Fischermanns Orchestra from Switzerland were performing on the Conga Stage on Sunday afternoon. The Ababhemu Quartet—that extraordinary collaboration featuring Karl-Martin Almqvist, Nduduzo Makhathini, Ayanda Sikade, and Magne Thormodsaeter spanning South Africa, Sweden, and Norway—played twice over the weekend, and I caught neither performance fully. These were not mere supporting acts filling time slots; these were world-class musicians who had travelled across oceans to be part of this conversation.
The line-up was simply too rich, too varied. Even focusing on Sunday alone, how does one choose between Oumou Sangaré’s closing set on the Conga Stage and José James Sings Badu on the Mbira Stage? Both happening simultaneously at quarter to eight, both offering completely different yet equally compelling experiences. I would have loved to hear more of the sets I only glimpsed, to spend extended time on each stage, to somehow clone myself and be in four places at once.
But perhaps that’s the mark of a truly great festival—that sense of delicious frustration at having to make choices, knowing that whichever path you take, you’re guaranteed excellence. The Joy of Jazz 2025 didn’t just offer quality; it offered an overwhelming abundance of it. Over sixty artists from across fifteen countries and three continents, performing across three days on four stages. The mathematics alone are staggering. The reality—standing in those foyers, programme in hand, hearing music spilling from multiple directions simultaneously—was both exhilarating and slightly maddening in the best possible way.
A Final Note
As the final chords of the Jazz at Lincoln Centre Orchestra faded into the Johannesburg night and the crowds began their reluctant exodus from the convention centre, there was a palpable sense of gratitude in the air. Over three days at the Sandton Convention Centre, revellers had witnessed more than sixty artists from across the globe remind us why jazz endures, why it matters, and why festivals like this are not mere entertainment but essential nourishment for the soul.
The Standard Bank Joy of Jazz 2025 was a triumph—a celebration of heritage, a showcase of contemporary excellence, and a promise that this music, born in struggle and raised in the spirit of innovation, will continue to evolve, inspire, and unite us for generations to come.
As Jazzmeia Horn reminded us at the beginning of my evening: these vibrations change the very beat that we are. Walking out into the Sandton night, I could feel that changed beat, that altered rhythm, still pulsing through me.
Until next year, when jazz comes home again.
