Pallaso On African Music, His Legacy, and The Downside of Fame!

I want to be remembered as someone who helped others!

“I want to be remembered as someone who helped others,” Pallaso tells me as he gets his makeup done. He’s so calm, something that allows the makeup artist to do her job fast. We have just one hour with him, and in that time, I have to get all my questions answered, and also allow him to change into about five outfits or so. He pauses for a bit. “I’d also like to be remembered for my great music, and as someone that loved African music so much that he did whatever he could to save its sound,” he continues.

Born Pius Mayanja 34 years ago, in a family of 7, Pallaso considers himself to be “a good father, son, brother and friend who happens to also be a good musician, music producer and writer.” His music journey dates back to the early 2000s when his stage name was ‘Lizard’, before he left for the US where he ‘found himself’.

Today he speaks to me with gusto about his career, and there’s every reason to. Two days prior to us meeting, he was named ‘Artist of the year’ at the annual Zzina Awards. It’s no secret that he’s one of the artists who recorded massive success during lockdown. Away from all that, he has collaborated with some of the biggest names in the business. However, all this doesn’t count much to the singer. “I believe what counts most is the legacy I’ll leave behind. I want to be remembered as someone who never gave up no matter what, somebody who kept going regardless,” he muses.

For our May cover story, which is a celebration of everything African, Pallaso talks to Satisfashion UG about African music, his legacy and dealing with the downside of fame.

Today we’re celebrating ‘Africa month’. How, in your opinion, can we preserve our local sounds?

The challenge in our midst is that a lot of us Africans have been sold the idea that our local sound isn’t good enough, or bluntly saying – not cool enough. In the process, albeit unknowingly, we have killed the original sounds and genres of our music. Kadongo Kamu, for example, has completely fizzled out. But, if we choose to exercise a bit more patriotism, I honestly believe we can preserve those genres and see how far they can go. It’d be almost impossible to market them elsewhere if we have failed to embrace them at home. A lot of us, and I mean young people, do not want to affiliate themselves with our original sounds. But guess what? That’s our original sound. We shall dance to the Nigerian tunes and obsess over the Congolese, but our sound right her here at home.

I think what can be done is to influence people to love their original music a little more, and then make sure we improve its quality, add our urban vibe to it, and I think, if we can produce a quality that can competewith the rest of the world, then maybe our original sounds will go places. The energy should start with us.

You recorded a lot of success during lockdown. What have you been doing differently?

Lockdown was, and is still a whole new experience. However, what we’ve been doing done is just great music. The experience has been tough on us, but it has been very tough on our fans. Music became their only source of solace.

For me, as as an artist, I had to look at things a little differently. If you notice, I haven’t necessarily urbanised my new music. Urbanisation and development are not necessarily the same. You don’t have to urbanise something to develop it. Overtime, I have been cultivating the true Ugandan sound, and that genre is so much appreciated. This is evidence that Ugandans can love and support their own sound.

What’s your inspiration?

You know for me music is a hobby that just happens to be a business. On the business side of things, you have to keep your guard up all the time. It’s important to listen to the needs of your fans and cater to them. I’ve been hanging out with so many ghetto people. This helps to keep ideas flowing coming with unique lyrics and great beats.

As you can see, all my new songs have not been produced by any mainstream producers. They’ve all been done by underground producers because we took a different direction – Hanging out with the right people, sourcing fresh ideas from people that society may not give so much attention, that’s where the magic lies. These people have so much to say and so much to share. That was very important to me!

Is Kama Ivan, your manager, one of these special people?

Yes, he is. For producers, there’s Eddy D, Ian Pro and Mimi.

Could there be an album in the works?

We’re currently discussing a major deal with a major global record label. Because of that, we cannot release an album, EP or mixtape because that’s one of the things they’re interested in producing as soon as we get to work.

Maybe if it doesn’t pan out, I will release an album. In the meantime, you will have to listen to the singles for now.

What would you want to be your legacy?

I want to be remembered as someone who helped others. I’d like to remembered for my great music. I’d also like to be remembered as someone that loved African music so much that he did whatever he could to save its sound. I want to be remembered as someone who never gave up no matter what, someone who kept going regardless.

Yours brothers Jose Chameleone, Weasel and the Late AK 47 have all had a big mark on the music business. Has having your siblings in the same business as you worked in your favour or not?

To be honest, to an extent it worked against me. Even before I got my big break, I was already being compared to my brothers. Also, they are very competitive and talented individuals. They’ve built such big legacies. It’s very hard to match up. The early days were rough for us, however, we outgrew it. On the other hand, I’ve learnt so much from them, they have learnt so much from me as well. They raised me as I raised them – we’ve shared so much and the competition we have is healthy. We are all doing something we love to do, so it has worked both for and against me.

Talking about competition, as artists, do you have a support system? Who do you run to when you feel down? Seeing that you’re technically in competition with each other.

Personally, I keep ‘real friends’ around. I also have my dad and my immediate family members. The challenge with this is many of them cannot directly relate with me. In such situations, I have my manager, who understands our challenges as musicians. I also have God, spiritually. I meditate a lot – reflecting on the things I’m grateful for in my life; my kids, family, and so much more.

Being a musician is tough, you have no capital! Your capital is your brain and its ideas. That’s your ‘money maker’. We go through so many tests that the longer you stay in the industry, the more broken you might get. Having no record labels makes it even harder. It’s really up to you to fix yourself and keep working. It’s very challenging because you deal with a lot of negativity from people, saying you can’t do this or that, social media, media itself, friends, family.

You come from a world where everyone is trying to break you down until you prove that you can really do it. Then everybody runs to support you. You run into the same person who said you wouldn’t do it, and they say, “I saw your star power right from the start.” Then you wonder why they didn’t tell you then when you most needed to hear it.

You have nothing but great things to say about your manager. How much impact has he had on you and your career?

I think he came into my life when I needed him the most. He relieved me of all the hard stuff; booking shows, promotion – well, I still do that, as he is promoting I’m promoting as well. He handles some of that work. Dealing with promoters, and the business side of things. I still do quite a lot though. I write my own music, I’m always in the club promoting my music. I organise my own photoshoots – but my manager oversees so many things.

He sees what I don’t. He tells me, “This song is good, but do you know what we could do? Let’s add this to it” and what to focus on. For example, I didn’t know how strong love songs are. I made ‘Malamu‘ just to make a song and he woke me up and said, “You see? That is a good route to take. People love love, let’s do more love songs now.” He always oversees the things I may not see with my own wisdom, and that takes a lot of the burden off me. He makes sure I’m getting played on this radio and that TV, and books gigs, and books videos. Sharing responsibilities is the right word. Before, I was handling everything on my own.