In Art Lies Evidence of the Transcendent
A Tribute to Yallunder
In his book Making Sense of God, Presbyterian pastor and author Timothy Keller makes the case that: even in a modern, secular age, art—music, in particular, provides a powerful, almost ineffable glimpse into a realm of meaning that seems to transcend the purely material world. “There are times when we are ‘hit’ with such experiences of overwhelming beauty that we feel forced to use the term ‘spiritual’ to explain our reaction,” he writes.
Keller extends this as an invitation to skeptics, making the case for the existence of God. I wish to do no such thing. Yet, I stand with those who have, at some point in their lives, sensed the nearness of something—perhaps Heaven itself—through great music or profound beauty. Of course, one may argue that transcendent quality of art is subjective. Because some individuals feel that art connects them to a deeper, more meaningful reality does not objectively prove that there is a metaphysical realm behind these experiences. True. But, that's beside the point.
Picture this: It’s 1AM, you’re in bed and still awake. Sleep eludes you. Your mind rages with questions about what was, what is and what could be. The thought of what lies in the distant future, also seemingly beyond your power, scares you. Anxiety creeps in. It’s the feelings of inadequacy—thoughts of never amounting to anything and never reaching full potential that are unbearable. Thoughts of regrets and mistakes also whisper from the void. Romanticization of the past, settling on the better days being gone—when you were young, dangerous and free—is a common thought thread. Fears of being alone and never finding true love. What of promises made to the self? Yes, those haunt the inner man too—thinking you cannot even show up for yourself and commit to that which will create the better version of you. I believe these are demons, because the night is loud and they threaten your existence, when all you desire is, but to lay your head, be at peace, and hope to try again tomorrow. Then, as has become tradition on days like this, you cue your favorite song on the speaker, and an aura of tranquil envelopes the room. A feeling that: something is right in the world, abounds.
For me, Ikhaya Lam by Kelvin Momo, released in 2023, is that ultimate track. Featuring Babalwa—hailed the queen of Amapiano, and Yallunder, it remains my favorite to this day. But it is Yallunder’s voice, that angelic, soul-stirring sound, that brings me closest to the feeling Keller describes. Ikhaya Lam is a prayer. In it, Yallunder pleads with God not to leave her side, acknowledging that without Him, she is without strength. She asks for light to illuminate her path. And in her voice, in those haunting, reverberating notes, I find what I can only describe as the presence of something greater.
But now, that voice is no more.
Yolanda ‘Yallunder’ Nyembezi, one of South Africa’s great vocalists and whose work I’m in awe of, passed away on March 13, 2025. This is my tribute to her. To an artist who, unknowingly, became part of my nights, my moments of stillness, my search for solace and who brought me closer to that sense of “Heaven”. Whenever I need motivation, something to fill the silence, or a soundtrack to punctuate my highest and lowest moments, Yallunder’s graceful collaboration with Kelvin Momo never fails me.
Evidently, when Amapiano was taking over the world, I gravitated towards the Private School Amapiano—a more refined, soulful and jazz-infused variation of the sound. Unlike the club-heavy anthems that define mainstream Amapiano, Private School Amapiano is introspective, deeply emotional, and often spiritual. It is, at least for me(and I will take no rebuttal for this), standing as the genre’s equivalent of Beethoven, Mozart, or Vivaldi. It’s the kind of music you’d hear in the end scene of a Roman epic film like Gladiator, where the protagonist cradles a fallen loved one, beholding up into the heavens, and wishing for a miracle, or a reason for the tragedy having befallen them.
Yallunder’s voice was one of Private School Amapiano’s defining sounds. Whether on Langa’elihle, Ikhaya Lam, Intyatyambo, Ndinovalo, Bawo, or Imvuselelo, she carried something rare—something that felt like a bridge between the earthly and the divine, something testament of art as evidence of the transcendent.
I recently turned 27 and it solemnizes life to think that Yallunder, at a promising and budding stage of her career, only 30 years old, has departed this earth. While there’s comfort in knowing that she got the opportunity to share her beautiful music with the world, touching and blessing many hearts, as Soulful fans, our hearts are broken. Through her music I knew her and it is through her music that she’ll live on. She has multiplied and will continue to exist in our hearts.
So, who is your Yallunder?
What is that song that makes you glimpse the eternal, that makes you feel like, just for a moment, something beyond this world exists?
Do you flirt with the transcendent, or affirm it even? My only hope is that you have, at least once, been swept up in joy and wonder by a work of art.
To the universe, I say: May her soul rest among the stars.
It has been a while since we spoke, dear reader. First, thank you for 90 Subscribers. I’m 10 subscribers shy of 100. We’re slowly and surely approaching that first milestone. Please share this publication, restack, retweet and help me get to a 100 subscribers.
About my absence: I definitely have been writing, well, almost everyday, but nothing to post here. I’ve been working on pieces for publication. However, It is my wish that I share something here at least once every month, and if God wills, that’ll be the case.The podcast is on halt. I’m still doing a lot of work underground and will be back, soon and better.
My all time favorite song(I will not be accepting any judgement):
I wouldn't know what you call this, because coincidence doesn't cut it, I'm literally jamming to ukukhanya as of now