Jonah Mutono On His Personal And Artistic Journey, And Debut Album 'GERG'

For much of his life, Jonah Mutono has made music under a veil. First, as a private outlet for adolescent angst, then under the anonymous pseudonym Kidepo; named after a river and National Park in his ancestral home of northern Uganda. The desire for comfort and community was a driving force in Kidepo’s music; a soulful meditation on the 27 year old’s sporadic upbringing between Uganda, London, and Philadelphia. 

Though he enjoyed some indie cult exposure for the 3 singles and EP he released under this moniker, Jonah stresses that back then, his music was more a function of a personal exercise in self-discovery and creative maturation than a product for public consumption. 

Now going by his birth name, Jonah is finally ready to give more of himself to his listeners on his debut album GERG, under True Panther Sounds. Centered on his first and most formative relationship, the album displays  never before seen vulnerability from the young balladeer. Equal parts dazzling and haunting. His warbly baritone floats atop moody arrangements that fuse R&B, pop and indie. 

Tangaza was fortunate enough to catch up with Jonah over email to discuss his ongoing personal and artistic journey.

Photo Credits: Forest Aragon

How did you first get into music? What inspires you to create?

My parents put me in piano lessons at 4 year old. We were immigrants in Philadelphia, and they wanted to give me every opportunity. I appreciate that. It never really felt like an art though, it was more a systematic discipline that I could manage. I continued that all the way to the end of high school. I also sang classically from 14. 

 I started writing short stories as a creative outlet when I was 9 and that just turned into writing songs later on. In all honesty, I’d say canned madness inspires me more than anything. I’ve always been incredibly anxious. But there was nowhere for the emotions to go. My creative output sort of offsets that overflow; you can be sad and dramatic, and spiteful and vengeful in a song or story, and still emerge a semi-sane member of society. All that being said, I’m obsessed with the craft of it too, I love building something that changes someone’s entire emotional composition in 3 minutes. 

 Can you speak briefly about your journey from Reds to here? Why did you initially decide to be anonymous and why now to finally introduce us to Jonah? Why the hiatus?

 ‘Reds’ was a revelation. I didn't feel like “an artist” in a performative or commercial sense. I was exorcising demons privately, and it sounded like something real, it made me feel better. I was curious if it would do the same for other people. The social aspects of the internet personally make me very very nervous. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to a place where I’m totally comfortable as an observed entity. 

 Anonymity provided that shield while I was still figuring out what my artistry looked like. I wouldn’t even call that break a hiatus, I was creating the whole time, but without the awareness that people might actually be listening and following. I was also applying for visas and continent shifting as those visas allowed (Ugandan passport), which is exhausting and time consuming. 

I changed to my own name on this project for context. A lot of music from artists that I adore has a name and face to it. It’s really pivotal - it allows me to create an emotional bond with a human being. I put a lot of myself into the music and I didn’t want to deprive the songs or the listeners of that.  

Tell me about the many places you’ve lived. Do any of them feel more like home than the others? How does your current home of LA compare? 

 In a way, they are all the same. I moved at a frequency where my personality never became about one place. Every city definitely holds a different brand of humanity. I always became known for being an outlier and then I just had to roll with it. 

I was really young in Philadelphia, I remember bits and pieces, but it was truly a fantasy land. Starting to piece those memories together, it was a hard move for my family. Props to my parents for never making that palpable to me. Back in Uganda, (and that stint in Kenya), there’s certainly an ease, and an abundance of family there. By the time I got there though, I was fully ‘American’, and was seen as such. It was jarring to say the least.

London is where I was born and I feel that as I walk around. I was there from 13 onwards, and spent the remaining of my adolescent years there. If anything, I’d say I had more of a Brit soul than anything else. Or maybe I just miss the drinking culture, better chocolate and cheese, I don’t know. LA is definitely its own thing. It’s very strange, and gorgeous, and seedy, and insular. We are not a complete match, but I live with family here, so that’s made a huge difference. I’m gradually becoming more accepting of the pace - I almost like it. It’s only a matter of time until I become a palm tree. 

 What role does nostalgia play in your music? I’m thinking about your co-option of the old UG airlines logo and vintage photos from Uganda in your roll-outs as Kidepo. 

 When it comes to the logo, my grandpa ran that airline, so that was  a nod to him. So much of the sound of Kidepo was trying to make sense of all of the Imperial influences in my music. 

 The way that I am culturally is a direct result of Uganda’s colonial history, and I really needed to own that to move any further in my self-discovery. The album covers are all doctored to represent all the places that I’ve lived, and the photos represent a time where that cultural tension isn’t absent, but brushed under the carpet. Since Independence, many colonized countries have fought to reclaim the cultures that the Brits white-washed, and that is absolutely necessary. But what about those of us who, generations later, don’t feel that instinct in our bones? Where do we go from here? The nostalgic aesthetic to me really asked those questions, rather than glorifying that time. I do think that now is the right era for me to exist.

Via Daily Beast

Can you name some artists or albums that have been influential to your artistic development? 

The first CD I owned was Destiny’s Child’s ‘Survivor’ at 10, that blew my little child mind and a lot of my tastes on the pop side have been informed by that. Kanye’s whole catalogue is intimidating, any of it always inspires me to make something. I can still remember how I felt the first time I listened to College Dropout. There’s an NZ songwriter called Brooke Fraser, she had a blog in maybe 2006 (?) about songwriting. I had her album Albertine, and honestly, that blog really clued me to the nitty gritty of the craft. I was obsessed. Sufjan Stevens has written a good handful of my favorite songs, and his artistic trajectory is astounding. Album-wise, I’d say Illinois and Carrie & Lowell are my favorites. My Dad would play Franco et le tout puissant OK Jazz (Congolese Soukous band) as we would eat dinner growing up, and I would always dismiss it, but listening back, I know every melody and turn of Mario. That shit creeps in.

 What is your songwriting process like?

It’s always different. The songs I adore most, I think of a single line during a particular situation, write it down, and then come back to it and flesh it out when the mood sets. Sometimes it’s a slog, and I just sing on the track until an idea forms, then build a story around the character of the melody. Sometimes I go for a walk, and there’s a full song in my head by the time I get back. It’s a gorgeous thing, these songs are really their own beasts, I just chip away at a clay mound until they resemble a form in which they can exist independently. 

You are hard to place in terms of genre. How would you describe your music? 

The thing is - I always just thought I was making pop music. Everyone has their opinions on what it is, “it’s R&B”, “it’s alternative”, “it’s indie”, “it’s soul”, and I am inspired by all of those things. I never set out to make anything genre specific. Because of the optics, and the way I sound, I see it painted a certain way, and that’s fine, whatever makes sense to you. To me, these songs are for everyone and anyone. 

Since the globally publicized saga of the Anti-Homosexuality Act, Uganda has become notorious for its entrenched queerphobia. You yourself admit that “there is little kindness and space given to queer stories in that corner of the world.” How do you reconcile claiming a country that doesn’t always claim you back? 

I don’t. That is my ancestral home, and their current cultural opinions won’t make that untrue. I can simply continue to exist. I can create. I can give and receive support to others in a similar position. One step at a time really. 

Your visual direction seems very intentional. What role would you say it plays in your overall brand?  Who handles that side of things?

My visual direction is me and my friends - it’s what we like. I work with Isaac Eastgate in England, and Forest Aragon and Blake Bohls in the US. Maybe there’s a message in there somewhere. I do think that if you’re entirely yourself everything connects. Nobody knows my world like I do, and I’ve been driving, and curating what we create. So far so good, I love where we’ve ended up. 

How often do you return to Uganda and what are those experiences like?

It’s pretty sporadic, but I go back when I can. There isn’t a pattern yet. It’s trying in the way that visiting your older generations is trying, but Uganda is unrelentingly gorgeous. Even in panic, there’s a sense of ease, and I can wear it. 

What’s your take on the current state of music in Africa and globally? How do you see yourself fitting into the future of this ever-changing, ever growing industry?

There’s so many very specific pockets of music in Africa that are flourishing. East Africa wise, I admire people like Bouquet Records and Nyege Nyege Festival for capitalizing on what the culture wants. We can also all see how Nigerian and South African artists are thriving and that’s exciting to me. I do think people around the world are taking notice. It feels like there’s infinite reach now, whoever and wherever you are. Monoculture, in a Western sense, but even internationally is shrinking, and it’s incredible to see. 

As for where I fit, it’s more exciting not to know. I’ve always existed culturally in-between and as an artist I don’t see anything different. I’m finding my audience now, and it’s exciting to see how diverse and expansive it is. The younger generations, with our exposure, are kids of the world. I want to make the kind of songs that don’t sound geographically specific, and create a community that’s accepting but also curious. 

Tell me a bit about the transition from being independent to signing with True Panther Sounds. 

It was easy. I made what I wanted to make - what I was making anyway - and they’re putting it out as is. It is amazing to have this kind of support. I’ve also been working with EQT for a while now, and most everything has changed. Albeit, gradually. The transition has been like a frog in heating water. Everything has happened slowly and in the quickest of hastes, and I have yet to really figure out what it all means.

GERG Album Artwork by Forest Aragon

What can you tell us about your album GERG? What’s the story behind the cover?

Primarily, it’s the story of my first important relationship. I found that every song I wrote until then was about that. It was all a dream until it wasn’t, and a real person was on the other end who had feelings. I discovered a lot about myself. I don’t feel like I was closeted, more that I encountered someone who changed everything. GERG is the code name I saved him as in my phone. The album is that experience, and everything in-between. It’s my 20s. There’s a song about moving to DC, and watching cabs drive past us to pick up white people. There’s a song about the isolation of the city. There’s a song I wrote as my friend got married, and I realized I wanted that too. There’s a song about sneaking around so my friends didn’t know I was seeing someone important. It’s a document, it’s the end of a chapter. 

The cover, with the red eye! My friend Forest is a genius, is all there is to be said about that. He had taken it, and sent it to me, and I knew upon seeing it that it was the one. It’s murky and classic, and very close to me. Exactly how the album feels when I hear it. 

 Anything else you’d like the Tangaza readers to know? 

Ya sure, if you like video games, I sometimes stream them. Also if you read this magazine, hit me up.

GERG is available on Spotify, Apple Music, Tidal, and all other major streaming platforms. You can keep up with Jonah on Instagram and Twitter.