Introducing: Klide

Live from the GAT, on the outskirts of Centurion, Pretoria, emerges Klide – a wordsmith whose labyrinthine lyricism and spiritual gravitas defy the temporal confines of geography and trend. His music, a raw fusion of Roc Marciano’s grit, MF DOOM’s obscure wit, and Earl Sweatshirt’s existential poetry, positions him as South Africa’s cryptic oracle of rap. His music is not an invitation; it is a cipher – one that demands patience, reflection, and reverence for the art form. But who is the man behind the pen, and how does he reconcile his divine purpose with the stark realities of his environment?

To call Klide’s music a reflection of Centurion would be to limit the vast scope of his experiences. “I wouldn’t pinpoint Centurion as one of my sources of inspiration in regards to location,” he clarifies. “Being born in Cape Town in a relatively poor neighbourhood to migrating to the suburbs has provided me an insight that differs from many.” The Hottest N***a in Town’s worldview is not anchored to a singular place but rather informed by the contrast between them. It is in this juxtaposition – of hardship and privilege, of past and present – that Klide found his perspective.

Music remains his foremost influence, but cinema has also shaped his approach. “I’ve always had an appreciation for good cinematography,” he notes, a sentiment that translates into his writing. His verses carry the weight of film stills, each bar a frame meticulously composed for layered interpretation.

Klide’s writing is an act of excavation. “I often let the instrumental guide me in terms of where I’m trying to go with the song,” he explains. The beat dictates the atmosphere, and from that atmosphere, meaning emerges. His process is less about force and more about discovery, an organic unearthing rather than a rigid construction. A meticulous process where brevity and density collide. The lyrical composer has this otherworldly ability to condense complex themes (grief, divine purpose, systemic rot) into razor-sharp couplets where each bar is distilled until it hums with layered meaning. His philosophy of conciseness is a deliberate response to the modern rap landscape: “I believe in staying true to the art form and not compromising irrespective of what everybody else is on.”

Photo: @smmr.potr4its

This commitment to refinement extends to his choice of collaborators. Working with 1Floydd and Kid In The BackRound offers him different lenses through which to shape his sound. “Both are phenomenal producers with a wide variety of tricks up their sleeves,” he says. The main distinction? Sonics. His beat selection feels like a dusty vinyl crackling to life, while his voice cuts through like a sharp whisper, demanding your attention. On 1Floydd’s grimy, loop-driven production, his delivery is sharper, more combative. With Kid, he surrenders to introspection, allowing himself to philosophise over the hazy, soul-drenched samples.

Klide’s subject matter refuses to settle. A mosaic of existential interrogation existing in the liminal space between shadow and light, the poet manoeuvres around introspection and social commentary without fixating on one over the other. “I try not to linger on a particular topic for too long,” he says, allowing his verses to be a recollection rather than a manifesto. In ‘I’d Rather Lose It,’ Klide raps, “Praise to the Most High bestow the talent of music.” This line reflects his belief that his gift is divine, a theme that threads through his work. Yet, he refuses to let this belief morph into external pressure. “The moment I start feeling the need to appease or conform is when I'll know I've lost the love for the raps.”

His lyrics, while deeply personal, are coded with universal themes of struggle and transcendence, but it never engulfs him. “I try not to fixate on any one thing,” he states, striking a balance between honesty and avoidance of self-indulgence. One of my favourite cuts on his 2024 offering Eternal Siesta, ‘Blues’ has the wordsmith’s vulnerability (“What do you know about seeing your own bro sick, knowing there ain’t nothing you can do ‘bout it but to sit in silence?”) and rebelliousness (“Heart filled to the brim with violence / If I act on my own intuition, only moments away from sirens”) on full display, with the sporadic confrontation of societal decay without being too preachy. Almost mistaking his confidence in delivery with bravado, he corrects this narrative as an assertion of self-belief: “I wouldn’t call it bravado, more me just being myself and having faith in my talents and abilities.”

Klide’s music does not neatly fit within South Africa’s mainstream hip-hop ecosystem. Aware that his abstract, sample-heavy sound and thematic sensibilities lean closer to the underground movements of New York than the radio-friendly soundscapes of Johannesburg, he seeks to leverage digital underground networks to bypass local gatekeepers. And this is intentional. “Yes, it’s very deliberate,” he affirms. “I want to carve a path for myself and other artists who don’t necessarily fit the niche music culture in South Africa.”

For Klide, the internet is the great equaliser. “I believe the internet will suffice; it’s just a matter of being patient and constant in regard to social media, music, etc.” Yet, he remains cautious of the very algorithms that could amplify his reach. “I understand the power of these social platforms, but I try my level best to not taint the art.”

Does Klide care if the world isn’t ready for his music yet? Not particularly. “Truthfully, this music is more than just a hobby; it’s a passion that, first and foremost, brings me fulfilment.” His eyes are set on longevity, on making music that will be dissected decades from now. “Both really,” he says when asked if he values impact in the present or recognition in the future. “It would be nice to be remembered for my art long after I’m gone; hence, I try to make music I deem to be timeless.” An ideal that he alludes to on ‘Passion’ (“the remuneration? My own creation. I adore my music, it’s therapeutic // Fact I can’t measure its impact even with a cubic.”)

For Klide, the non-negotiable in his craft is simple: “Never compromising my art, whether it be for trends, money, or attention. I want to ensure I always stay true to the art form I fell in love with initially.”

Klide moves with conviction, unshaken by industry distractions as he decodes life’s contradictions without overexplaining. His music is not designed for quick consumption but for slow unravelling. The question is not whether the world will eventually catch up – but rather if it will be prepared when it does.

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Written by Kamohelo More