1. Congratulations on your debut What does it mean to you?

To me, this debut album marks a shift — a step into a new direction. I’ve always loved putting together projects because they allow you, as an artist, to tell a much broader story. Where a single feels like writing a caption; an album feels like writing an essay. It gives you space to explore deeper themes and connect more intricately.

That said, even in my earlier work — the mixtapes and EPs — I poured in that same level of care and intention. I treated them like albums because they mattered to me just as much. But now? I feel more ready, more grounded in who I am — both as a person and as an artist — to finally call this an album. And that feels powerful.

2. How does Africa Month resonate with your identity as a South African artist rooted in Venda culture?

Africa Month hits close to home for me. Growing up, I remember how much we looked outwards

• trying to emulate other cultures, their slang, their style, their sound. It was dope at the time, but now, there’s been a The internet has flipped that narrative — it’s made being yourself, being proudly African, the coolest thing you can be.

We’re moving away from the one-size-fits-all culture industrialization tried to sell us, and instead, everyone’s stepping out proudly in their own heritage. I’m no different.

As someone rooted in Venda culture, Africa Month reminds me how much of our history has been erased, hidden, or misrepresented. It drives me to dig deeper — to learn about the great kingdoms and cities that existed here, long before colonial interference. I believe that showcasing grand African art — whether in music, film, or fashion — can spark curiosity and lead people back to that grand African history. That’s the mission.

3. In what ways does your album reflect the heartbeat of modern African love and legacy?

Because I’m an African artist living in a digital age, everything I create is naturally shaped by that reality — I don’t need to force it. My experiences, my love stories, my reflections on legacy

• they’re all filtered through a lens that blends tradition with

We live in a world where love often starts in DMs but eventually moves offline into deeply traditional spaces. You might meet online, but when it comes time to marry? You’re stepping into rites of passage steeped in ancestral ritual and community.

That merging of worlds fascinates me. I always say — our phones get software updates, but what does a cultural update look like? How do traditions evolve? Through this album, I’m exploring those very questions — what happens when modern love meets ancestral practice? What does legacy look like when you’re coding it with both binary and beads?

The Album: meet me at the altar

1.  The title alone is evocative. What’s the personal story behind Meet Me at the Altar?

I was searching for a title that could carry the full weight of what this album represents — something poetic, something bold. At first, we were calling it The Wedding Pack, and it was meant to be just a mixtape. But that name didn’t land the way I needed it to, especially from a storytelling or marketing perspective.

Meet Me at the Altar felt perfect — it’s a declaration. You know what it means without needing it spelled out. It says: I’m ready. I choose you. And not just in the romantic sense. It’s about showing up — in love, in life, in faith, in purpose.

I could imagine a fan texting their lover, “Meet me at the altar,” and that alone saying everything. That’s what I love — the simplicity and power of it. It’s an invitation. And that’s exactly what this album is.

2.  You’ve described the album as a sonic love letter. What inspired you to center love — romantic, familial, spiritual — as your core theme?

I’ve always been a lover boy. If I don’t know what to write about, love is my default. But it goes deeper than just romance.

I grew up in a home where love was taught through action, and through faith. My parents wanted me to be a pastor — and in a way, I guess I still am.

A lot of the inspiration comes from my church upbringing. The worship, the harmonies, that spiritual connection — that’s where I first learned how powerful music could be. So now, I’m just walking the path my Creator carved out for me, using my creativity to reflect the same love I was given. If my music can evoke even a fraction of that, I’m doing my job.

3.  What made this the right time in your life to create and share this project?

I genuinely believe in divine timing. I’ve started and abandoned so many projects along the way, but I made a promise to myself that this one, I’d finish.

This season tested me — there were moments I didn’t want to touch the album. Times I got bored, frustrated, even tempted to shelve it altogether. But I kept going. And now? It’s finally ready to be shared with the world, and that’s a beautiful feeling.

There are songs on here that date all the way back to 2017. It’s wild to think how those ideas have evolved with me. Some lyrics I wrote back then were just dreams — now, they read like reflections. It’s like I was writing from the future, speaking things into existence.

That’s how I know: the time is now. It’s divine. And I’m just grateful to have seen this through.

4.  Which track was the most emotional for you to write — and why?

That would have to be Say the Word.

Not because it was easy — quite the opposite. It was frustrating as hell. I wanted to pull it from the project because I just couldn’t finish it. It wasn’t coming together the way I wanted. But Matt

— my brother and manager — kept reminding me it had something special. So I pushed through.

At some point, my mindset shifted. The album stopped being a random playlist of wedding vibes and became something deeper — something intentional. A true dedication to my wife and our union. That song became the soundtrack to the vision I held every time I closed my eyes and imagined our big day.

It took some wrestling, but that’s what made it so meaningful. The struggle gave it depth. The fact that it almost didn’t make it in — and now it’s one of the most powerful songs on the album? That’s the beauty of it. Big shoutout to Tondi Rams too, who helped me piece together the verse. That song is a testament to persistence, partnership, and purpose.

Culture & Heritage

1.  Africa Month is about celebrating our roots. How did your cultural roots show up in this project?

You’ll hear my roots throughout the entire album — not as a gimmick, but as a lived truth.

One moment that stands out is on Amazulu, where we incorporated a hum that’s rooted in a funeral song I heard at my grandmother’s memorial. It was the song Kulungile, and despite the sadness of that moment, it brought peace and healing. I decided to reclaim it — repurpose it — and place it in a new context, one of celebration. At first, it might catch you off guard. But when the full arrangement kicks in, it carries your spirit.

Having visited my gran’s Anglican church, I remember the way the drums hit — how they echoed through your body and soul. That sonic imprint stuck with me. And doing this feels like honouring her beautiful life.

It’s easy to draw inspiration from the West — but nobody can do us like us. When we dig into our own rhythms, histories, and sounds, we tap into something sacred. That’s where the magic is.

2.  You mentioned immersing yourself in cultural research. What traditional rite reshaped your perspective?

Working on this album coincided with one of the most personal cultural journeys of my life — my wedding. My wife is Zulu, and I’m Venda, so the whole process meant immersing myself in both cultures.

Growing up, Lobola felt like a confusing, maybe even outdated tradition. But this time, I asked the real questions: Why do we do this? What’s the meaning behind each step?

The answers brought me closer to my roots and my elders. I realized the beauty of what Lobola represents — a merging of families, not just individuals. It transformed what I thought was transactional into something sacred.

And unlike the last time my family gathered — which was for a funeral — this time we came together in celebration. That contrast alone reshaped how I see the role of tradition in our lives. It’s not just about looking back; it’s about creating moments that honor the past while moving us forward.

3.  How important was it for you to include the Venda language and sound elements in the album?

It was essential. This is about legacy.

Growing up, nothing about me screamed “Venda.” I wasn’t visibly repping the culture in ways the world could immediately identify. But maybe that’s why I lean into it so heavily now — because I need people to know where I come from.

Venda culture isn’t the most widely known, even within South Africa. But every time I sing in my mother tongue, I’m preserving something sacred. I want kids who speak Venda — or those who don’t — to hear these songs and be curious, to ask questions, to learn a phrase, to feel represented.

If I can put our stories and language into music, then they’ll live beyond me.

4.  Tshinakaho has become a wedding anthem. What does it feel like to watch your music become part of cultural rituals?

There are no words for it, really. I’m genuinely humbled.

To see people dressed in traditional regalia, dancing, celebrating love and culture — with my music as the soundtrack — that’s everything I ever dreamed of. I’ve always said I want to create soundtracks to life. And if Tshinakaho plays in the rom-com moment where someone says “I do,” then I’m doing what I was called to do.

It affirms everything I believe about music’s power to preserve culture and move hearts. I hope it’s not just a song for now, but something that gets passed down — something that becomes a wedding staple, generation after generation.

5.  You called this project a ‘Sonic Museum.’ What pieces of heritage were you most intentional about preserving in sound?

Language — first and foremost.

I want Venda people to hear this and say, “That’s us.” I want others to hear it and feel that spark of curiosity. Maybe they’ve never heard Tshivenda before — now they’re intrigued.

I was also intentional about preserving rhythm. African cultures use drums in ceremonies, celebrations, healing rituals — they are central to how we connect. I made sure those textures were present. But some things are too big to express sonically, which is why I’ll continue to explore this through visuals, video, collaboration, and other mediums. That’s the beauty of being a multidisciplinary artist — I don’t have to say it all in just one way.

6.  How do you navigate the balance between modern musical influences and honoring traditional African aesthetics?

Honestly, I don’t overthink it — because I am the balance. I’m an African artist living in the now. I have eclectic tastes. I dig into the past and scroll through the future, and it all bleeds into what I make.

Most of my music starts with feeling, with a vibe that grabs me in the moment. Take Hayani — Jay Smash played a beat from 2020, and it just clicked. It didn’t sound like anything I’d done before, but I leaned into it. No blueprint. Just instinct. That’s how culture evolves — not through formulas, but through presence.

Art is magical because it lets you create something new that still feels ancient. And I’m here to ride that wave.

7.  What does being an African man today mean to you, and how does that show up in your music?

It’s layered. It’s complex. But for me, it means living in truth — even when that truth goes against what society expects of “a man.”

We come from a people whose stories were erased, distorted, hidden. So a big part of my journey is reclaiming what was lost — our language, our rhythm, our strength, our tenderness.

I look at what’s happening across the continent, like in Burkina Faso, and I see evidence of Africa’s potential being reclaimed. That inspires me to do the same in my own life.

As a man, a husband, a father, and an artist — I’m committed to living in my truth and redefining what power looks like. For me, that power is found in love, vulnerability, and purpose.

Love, Legacy & Lifestyle

1.  As Africa Month reminds us to celebrate identity and strength, how does love play into that celebration for you?

You can’t truly celebrate without love being at the center. Whether it’s love for your culture, your people, or a common goal — celebration starts with connection. And connection starts with love.

For me, love is the root of everything. It’s strength in its purest form, because love requires vulnerability. And vulnerability means trust — in yourself, in others, in your community. That’s powerful.

My songs always return to love — not just the romantic kind, but love of nation, of heritage, of self. Africa Month is a reminder to fall back in love with who we are outside of external influences. And I’m here for that kind of love story.

2.  In what ways does your relationship with your wife influence your creativity, values, and daily life?

My wife is my biggest muse.

She balances motherhood, marriage, her own career, and business moves with a grace that humbles me. She’s kind, fiercely so, and genuinely wants the best for everyone. That energy pours into our household and into me — reigniting that fire in my dreams when it starts to flicker.

She reminds me that nothing is too far out of reach.

We’ve found a rhythm in our daily lives where we’re both building our dreams while rooting for each other. And honestly, I wouldn’t be the man I am today without her. She’s made me better

— not just as a partner, but as a person. And that inevitably makes me a better artist too. That old phrase — “behind every great man is a great woman” — it’s true. I’m living proof.

3.  You’ve said that this album is not just for now, but for generations. What legacy do you hope it leaves behind?

I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it: I’m not making music just to trend. I’m making

soundtracks to life.

I want this album to be played long after I’m gone. The same way we play music from the greats

— music from decades ago that still moves people today — I want someone in 2100 to press play at their wedding and hear Una Rams.

But beyond royalties or catalog rights meant for my children, I want this album to pass down feeling. I want generations to inherit the emotion, the intent, the spirit of these songs. That’s legacy to me — not just being remembered, but being felt.

4.  You’ve said this is the first time you wrote about your life in real time. How was that different from past projects?

Every project before this has been either a reflection or a manifestation. I was either looking back or dreaming forward. And in my rollouts, I’d often embody a persona — like Sam Sonic or Pr!nce — to explore different frames of reference. That let me step outside myself, in a way.

But this time? I’m present. I’m not hiding behind a concept or a character.

I’m showing up as Mr. Rams. And it’s been one of the most fulfilling experiences of my career — documenting my life, in real time, through music. This isn’t fiction. This is real. And I’ve been able to package that moment — that era — and share it with both my family and the world.

5.  What do you believe African love sounds like, and how did you capture that sonically?

African love sounds like me.

It’s rich. It’s grounded. It’s flavorful — like indigenous fruit grown in soil you can still trace back to your great-grandmother’s hands. It’s real.

Being an African artist in this era, the way I create — the beats I gravitate towards, the languages I choose, the way I sing or structure a chorus — it all reflects who I am and where I’m from. I didn’t need to chase a sound. I am the sound.

So when you hear this album, you’re hearing the heartbeat of African love — present, proud, and alive.

Music & Message

1.  How do you approach songwriting when it comes to turning cultural moments into universal music?

Honestly? I don’t.

I don’t walk into the studio with a plan to turn a cultural moment into something “universal.” I walk in, and I listen to what my heart wants to say. That’s it. Music is already a universal language.

Overthinking it — wondering whether a song will go viral or calculating how to engineer a hit — kills the joy. And for me, the joy is everything. I’m not a purist about much, but if there’s one thing I am a purist about, it’s having fun while creating. I need to enjoy what I’m making — otherwise, what’s the point?

So when I write, I’m not trying to make a moment go global. I’m just trying to be honest. And when you’re honest in your art, the resonance follows naturally.

2.  What African musical influences — past or present — have helped shape your sound and storytelling?

We stand on the shoulders of giants.

Back in grade nine, I went through a deep jazz phase — Jimmy Dludlu was in heavy rotation. That shifted how I thought about music and melody. But even before that, church was my foundation. We sang hymns — powerful, emotional pieces that taught me how music could move a room without needing much at all. I owe a lot to those melodies.

Later on, road trips with my older sister introduced me to Lira — and I remember thinking, “One day, I want to have CDs with my name on them too.”

Then there are the cultural champions — Sho Madjozi, Makhadzi, and Mizo Phyll — who made it cool to be proudly Limpopo. They reminded us that your mother tongue is marketable. That authenticity sells. That culture connects.

Guys like Muzi did the sonic anthropology — taking us back through South Africa’s musical DNA and modernizing it. And then there’s Burna Boy, who took African sound global and showed us what’s possible at the highest level. His path is one I still aspire to.

My peers also keep me sharp. I see what they’re doing — the moves they’re making — and it reminds me that we’re all writing the next chapter together. Every day, I’m reminded: this is possible.

3.  What role does spirituality and faith play in your creative process?

A huge one. To me, this isn’t just talent — it’s a divine calling.

There’s this beautiful line Msaki said: “We are song catchers.” That’s exactly how it feels. These songs don’t come from me — they come through me. I’m just the vessel.

Some days, the melodies appear out of nowhere. The lyrics just arrive. And I know that’s not by my own strength. That’s grace.

From the beginning — singing hymns in church as a kid — faith has been the foundation. That’s where I first learned how music can hold space, offer healing, and bring people together. That’s where I return every time I create.

I’ve watched God take this career and make it more than I could’ve ever imagined. So I stay grateful. I stay guided. I stay grounded in something bigger than me.

4.  What does it mean to be an African man today?

(Please refer to “Culture & Heritage”, Question 7)

Being an African man today means living in truth — not the version that’s been scripted by history books or outdated social expectations, but the one that aligns with your spirit. It’s about reclaiming what was taken, hidden, or erased — our languages, our customs, our softness, our strength.

I’m navigating what it means to be a man — a partner, a father, a creator — without performing someone else’s idea of masculinity. I’m choosing to lead with love, not ego. With vulnerability, not control. With presence, not perfection.

It’s layered. It’s evolving. But above all, it’s mine.

Africa Month, Youth & the Future

1.  What advice do you or would you give to African artists who want to honor their heritage in their work?

Look within — always.

Start by looking within yourself: what excites you, what moves you, what makes you feel alive when you create? Make what you like. That’s where the truth lives.

Then, look within your own culture. We sit on a goldmine of stories, rhythms, sounds, and traditions. There’s a richness here that runs deeper than any outside influence ever could. Some of the most exciting music I’m hearing right now comes from young artists who are sampling old South African sounds — and it hits different. It feels rooted.

We have a sonic fingerprint that’s unlike anything else on the planet. So, we don’t need to contort ourselves to fit into someone else’s mold. By simply being your full, unique self — unapologetically — you already stand out. That’s what the world wants: something real, something new, something us.

2.  This album is deeply personal, but also very communal. How did you balance telling your story while keeping it open for our story as Africans?

I think it comes down to vulnerability.

When you’re honest about your experiences — your joy, your pain, your questions — you unlock something universal. We’re all just people trying to figure things out. So when I put my truth into the music, I know someone, somewhere, will feel it too.

That’s how the personal becomes communal. By trusting that your specific story has echoes in someone else’s journey. And that’s always been my goal — to tell my story in a way that gives others permission to feel seen in theirs.

3.  What does freedom of expression mean to you as a musician in South Africa today?

It means not living in a sonic apartheid.

I can go anywhere musically. I can experiment. I can blend genres, languages, eras. I’m not boxed in by genre or expectation. That freedom is everything.

I create what I want, how I want — and I trust that my tribe will find me. Because they’re out there.

4.  As an artist from Limpopo, how important is it for you to represent your province and its traditions on a national and global stage?

It means everything.

 

I want to be a beacon of hope — someone the kids back home can look at and say, “If he did it, I can too.” Limpopo hasn’t always had the national or global representation it deserves, and that can lead people to undervalue where they come from. But I see the magic in our land, our people, our sound.

There’s a diamond in the rough here — and if we polish it, if we showcase it with pride, the world will see what we’ve always known. That’s what drives me.

5.  Looking ahead, what’s next for Una Rams — not just in music, but in building an African legacy?

I want to live a full life.

 

I want to spend meaningful time with my wife and family. I want to stay curious, stay inspired, and keep growing.

But beyond that, I want to build. I want to create businesses, ideas, and systems that uplift people across Africa — not just temporarily, but in ways that last. Music is the starting point. It’s the heartbeat. But I see my legacy stretching far beyond sound.

And I know I’ve already started building it. Now it’s just about sustaining it — nurturing it — so that what I’m doing today echoes into the future.

Quick Fire with Una Rams

A song that always gets you dancing? MfanaTouchLine & Swervo – Di’kota Tsa Swervo. Dream collaboration?

Still Drake. It’s always been Drake.

One thing you do to stay grounded?

I remind myself — I’m just human. Just a guy.

Favorite Venda dish?

 

Pap. Doesn’t even matter what it’s paired with. Just give me good pap.

One word to describe this album?

 

Opulence.

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