Life spins people, bouncing them here and there, back and forth, knocking them up against the cold and the hunger, over and over again. And all we can hope is that, while in its grip, while being spun, we somehow smash into our purpose. 25 year-old, Zimbabwean-English musician, Tinashe seemed to collide with his, heart first.

Born in Harare, Zimbabwe, Tinashe’s mother left him in Highfield with relatives, while she fled to England to try to provide some sort of refuge for her family, and escape the volatile political climate of Zimbabwe at the time. While in Highfield, Tinashe was forced to live in a one room shanty with nine of his relatives. No electricity. No space. Nothing but the energy of his loved ones, the memory of his mother, and the hope for anything better.

But eventually, his mother, like any good one, came through on her promise. Tinashe, whose name means “we are with God,” found himself landing at Heathrow airport, to start a new life, in a new place, free from political tyranny, and with a enough space for a young man like him to spread his legs, and his wings.

It was there that his mother bought him a Yamaha keyboard, and Tinashe would start to curiously figure out how the instrument worked. From there, an acoustic guitar was loaned to him. A willing teacher began to teach him Hendrix and other greats. The Mbira (thumb piano) and Djembe drum, he had not forgotten and itched to incorporate it into his new sonic discoveries. His sound, his life, started to come together. Life had spun him, and smashed him right into his destiny.

This is what you hear in his music. Not this story specifically, but this sentiment. The sound of a young man, not necessarily torn between two lands, but more comprised of two lands. Zimbabwe is in his voice, his step, his face. London in his guitar, in his lyrics, in his hemmed pants, and porkpie hat. The Mbira trickling, pretty notes into a new pop sound. As a matter of fact, the first time I saw Tinashe, it was on a friend’s blog. Tinashe was standing in a forest playing the Mbira singing a love song called “Zambezi.” His soft, trembling voice, floating just above the tear drop sound of the Mbira. Stealing all the mangos from the farm. Beautiful. Then I started researching. Heard another song revved up with pop guitar licks about being hassled by bill collectors. Not so beautiful. But very real. Very “Western.” And apparently very much so a part of his existence as a twenty-something. His music is representative of his experience, his duality, and Tinashe does a good job at walking that line, from Zimbabwe to London, effortlessly.

Jason Reynolds

Learn more about Tinashe, and his debut album, “Saved,” at: www.tinahse.co.uk