5 questions with... AUTHENTICALLY PLASTIC

''As a DJ, producer and artist based in Kampala, Uganda, Authentically Plastic’s sound is necessarily political''- and not once have they shied away from disrupting norms and challenging expectations. Leading the charge for Eastern African artists, their critically acclaimed debut album RAW SPACE, released through the Ugandan label Hakuna Kulala, exemplifies "a digger's literacy, an activist's intent, and an artist's playfulness." Beyond their music, they run a fierce, riotous, and, above all, essential Kampala-based collective and club night under the aptly named moniker ANTI-MASS. Their manifesto boldly declares: "ANTI-MASS reclaims space for queers, femmes, and other minorities, while exploring new potentials for sound and artistic expression in an increasingly regressive social climate."

For further context on the urgency of the matters discussed in our conversation, it is important to note that shortly after, Ugandan members of parliament passed a bill imposing the death penalty for homosexuality. Read more about it in The Guardian and Support Uganda LGBTQ Emergency Fund.

Darlyne Komukama

- How did you get into music?

- Authentically Plastic: I started out DJing. I had been away from Kampala for a while, studying at university in Cape Town, South Africa. When my visa ran out, I returned to Uganda, and I had been exposed to so much music while I was abroad. When I came back, there was a lot happening—especially with interesting parties hosted by Nyege Nyege (Kampala-based label, booking agency, artist residency, club night, and Pan-African festival of the arts) and other queer people. But I still wasn’t hearing the music I wanted to hear on the dance floor, so I decided to start DJing. A friend gave me a small controller, and I began playing at queer house parties. One of the people from Nyege Nyege was at one of these parties and ended up booking me for their festival that year (2018). From there, I started getting into production, mostly thanks to my friend Ray Sapienz, who taught me how to produce. It was such an exciting experience to learn how to make music. I had always been an avid digger, always searching for interesting sounds. I felt like there was something I needed to say musically. I wouldn’t be making music if I just wanted to replicate what was already out there. I produce because the things I want to hear, I don’t really find anywhere else—at least not on most record labels.

- When did ANTI-MASS kick off?

Authentically Plastic: December 2018. Our first event was on a rooftop on the edge of town, and we booked Kampire (a core member of Nyege Nyege and one of East Africa's most exciting DJs—check out her work here ).

- Did ANTI-MASS start from a similar point—a lack of certain spaces and curation in your surroundings?

Authentically Plastic: Yes, exactly. There were some queer spaces in Kampala, but many of them played mainstream club music. I wanted to create a space where people could experiment with their identities and sound, a space for free expression—whether that’s musically, sexually, or with one's gender expression. Essentially, the party’s language has always been rooted in queer feminist notions. We didn’t want to label it as just a “gay dance party” or anything like that. We’ve kind of been hiding behind the shield of being artists and feminists. We communicated through imagery, subtly signaling that this is a queer space.

-- And this is due to the political environment in which you have to operate. Can you elaborate?

Authentically Plastic: Yeah, it's entirely because of that. The government often scapegoats queer people to distract from real issues, which makes queer individuals extremely vulnerable. Even right now, we're seeing a resurgence of anti-queer discourse (this conversation took place weeks before the passing of the aforementioned anti-gay bill).

Editor's Note: Having attended the Nyege Nyege Festival in both 2018 and 2022, I have witnessed firsthand the outrageous efforts by the Ugandan government to cancel the event just days before it was set to begin. In both instances, the opposition came from either the Directorate of Ethics and Integrity or Parliament itself, with accusations as absurd as the recruitment of children into immoral behaviors. On both occasions, these objections were overruled, and the festival proceeded under strict guidelines. However, the political hostility surrounding collectives like Nyege Nyege and ANTI-MASS has now reached a critical point, especially in light of the recent passage of a bill imposing the death penalty for homosexuality.

Authentically Plastic sent several resources to learn more about the current situation.

Ugandan bill threatens jail for saying you're gay - BBC

US Christian Right pours more than $50m into Africa. Conservative groups increase their spending and activity in what critics call an ‘opportunistic use of Africans’ for US-style ‘culture wars’ - Open Democracy

How U.S. Evangelicals Helped Homophobia Flourish in Africa - Foreign Policy

Support Uganda LGBTQ Emergency Fund

Nyege Nyege Festival publicity photo

Nyege Nyege Festival publicity photo

- How do you continue to function in a time that is increasingly hostile?

Authentically Plastic: We had a party recently—the last one was on New Year’s. It’s been a bit tricky; after the pandemic, many of the spaces we used before shut down. There’s a growing sense that the space for us in this city is shrinking. So, the recent events we've held have been in our studio in Buziga. It was great—we had a really stacked lineup, and there’s a different energy when people are in our private space rather than a bar. But moving forward, we want to return to the approach we had before the pandemic—finding spaces in the city and repurposing them for our events.

Since New Year’s, however, the environment has suddenly become much more hostile. There’s been a lot of discussion about queer people on the radio, on television, and in government. I’m not sure where it’s coming from, but it seems to be a campaign funded by evangelical groups from the U.S. Because of this, I don’t see us having another party in the near future due to safety concerns—maybe later in the year. For now, we’re focused on finding other ways to show up for the community. We’ve just received funding to run a series of DJ and production workshops. We also want to support other creators interested in hosting events, sharing the lessons we've learned along the way—the mistakes we've made and what we’ve learned that could make future events better.

We clearly see that queer liberation is closely tied to spaces of queer enjoyment and pleasure. I think parties are a significant part of that. It's not just about enjoyment—queer events are, in themselves, a form of resistance.

- Your debut full-length album RAW SPACE has been critically acclaimed and very well received. Can you tell me about the conceptual basis and creative process behind it?

Authentically Plastic: The concept behind it was really about how a specific kind of techno has come to dominate electronic music. Obviously, four-on-the-floor techno has become dominant, and because it’s so powerful and widespread, it has tended to suppress other possible forms of techno. In a way, what I’m trying to do with RAW SPACE is create space for other potential forms of techno to emerge. Mostly, I do this by engaging with traditional rhythms and scales that are very different. It’s inspired by Kadodi, a form of ritualistic music from Eastern Uganda, as well as some music from Northern Uganda. The idea is to work with the textures and scales of that music and infuse it with a techno sensibility, just to explore what else is possible.

- Can you talk about the practical side of producing this body of work?

Authentically Plastic: I produced it in my studio in Kampala. My process always starts with noise. What I mean by that is I begin from a noisy position—often starting with lots of effects already applied to the channel. I use that as a foundation to compose. Sometimes I don't even start in the studio; I'll be outside, just with my computer and a Bluetooth speaker, which results in the sound being “contaminated” from the start. From there, I gradually narrow things down when I move into the studio to mix. My production process is very non-linear—it's about adding and removing layers, combining different meters and scales, distortion, and noise, while also adding a certain sophistication to it. It’s not just about assaulting the listener with noise; it's about creating something dynamic and purposeful.

- What are your tools or music instruments of choice?

Authentically Plastic: I use a DAW because it's the most accessible option for me. Hardware isn’t as accessible in Kampala. It’s something I’d love to explore more in the future, but right now, it's not feasible due to the high cost. That's why a Digital Audio Workstation has become the natural choice—it’s simply more accessible.

The conceptual side of it was really about how a specific kind of techno has come to dominate electronic music. Obviously, four-on-the-floor techno has risen to a dominant position. Because it is so powerful and widespread, it has somewhat suppressed other possibilities and forms of techno that could exist.

The African artist has an aura of that “authenticity”, that rawness, which many western institutions/individuals are more than happy to appropriate at all costs, or even worse, at no cost. People in the Global South are perpetually fucked by western capital.

The above quote comes from the essay All Eyes on the Margins: The Culture Industry and Labor Relations in East Africa by Authentically Plastic on Dweller Forever Blog.

- Being at the forefront of representing Eastern African and Ugandan artists, I want to dig deeper into your experience with institutions and also encourage readers to check out your essay. Could you explain what prompted you to write it?

Authentically Plastic: First of all, that article came from experiences my friends were going through, which we discussed extensively. I wanted to write something that would feel almost like an assault on the figures and institutions that have a record of systematic violence against artists, especially those from East Africa. My own experience with institutions has been limited, so my perspective is largely shaped by my friends' experiences. But when I started going to Europe, I began to have more encounters with institutions and cultural workers from that world. And it became clear how undervalued the labor and artistry of African artists are. For instance, when you get a booking offer from some institutions, the payment is often shockingly low—like, Hello, I literally live on a different continent, and my skills deserve to be compensated!

I see this a lot in Berlin, especially with my trans friends. There’s a way in which trans people are often treated as marginal, but I think the same applies to African artists. There’s this idea that inviting us to museums or galleries adds an air of “realness”—it’s like, Perform your trauma for us. It gives a kind of grit and authenticity that institutions love to feed on. I’ve heard some really shocking stories about what museums and art institutions offer to pay people for their labor—simply because they are black and queer. I don’t know if there’s an end in sight to this.

People tend to treat me a bit differently because they recognize me as someone very critical of these structures, but even so, there have been times when I’ve experienced shocking treatment. It’s not the same degree of mistreatment that others may face, especially those without the academic background or vocabulary to challenge institutions in their own language. I think more transparency about payments is essential—especially for black and queer artists who might not know what the standard rates are.

I had the experience of playing at a festival where both I and a black femme DJ, who played for two hours while I played for one, received the same payment. We both had similar experience and skills. By being transparent about what I was getting paid, she was able to confront them and negotiate a better rate. So, I really believe that transparency is key to raising the value of African artists across the board.

ANTI-MASS club night by Samra Mayanjs

- If you had to choose one of your works to put in a time capsule for future generations to find, which one would it be?

Authentically Plastic: It would be a collaborative track I made with Nsasi called "Galiba."

Authentically Plastic has just released 2 mixes for Dazed & Crack Magazine