Made in Africa, Played Around the World: Absolute Tonny’s Jazz Journey
By Joseph Batte | State of the Arts Uganda
The first thing that hits any critical listener of Uganda’s popular music is hard to ignore—and frankly, a little depressing: too many songs sound like they were baked in the same sonic oven, using the same tired ingredients. One beat. One formula. One endless loop.
It’s true. Most Ugandan artists chase the same dream by following the same path—churning out what sells, not necessarily what sings to the soul.
But lately, a quiet revolution has been bubbling beneath the mainstream. A new crop of bold, forward-thinking musicians is choosing to swim against the current. They’re ditching the safe path and stepping into the unknown—making music on their own terms.
One such rebel is Absolute Tonny.
With a name like that, you’d expect him to be in the thick of the Luga Flow wave, or maybe riding the dancehall train. Perhaps even dabbling in good old Band music—what we Ugandans fondly call Kadongo Kamu on steroids.
But
Tonny—real name Tony
Musaazi—chose
a very different lane. Jazz.
Yes, you read that right. Jazz.
And not the watered-down variety that sneaks into a bar playlist on a slow Sunday night. We're talking real, technically challenging, globally resonant jazz. The kind that gets standing ovations in underground clubs in Paris, New York, and Nairobi.
That bold decision has paid off. He now has a record deal with Caguama Records USA, and he tours internationally—gracing jazz clubs across the world with the kind of cool confidence you’d expect from a man twice his age.
Absolute Tonny isn’t just a jazz musician. He’s a walking contradiction to the Ugandan music stereotype: a Zoomer (born September 18, 1994), raised in a non-musical family, and yet somehow destined to become a jazzman.
“I actually wanted to be a lawyer,” he says with a chuckle. “That’s what my parents hoped for. They’re not really music people. No one in my family sings.”
But
when he showed signs of musical interest, something remarkable
happened: they
didn’t shut him down.
“They
were supportive. Still are,” he says.
Like
many greats before him, Tonny got his start in church—first as an
altar boy, then as a choir member.
“It was nothing serious at
first. Just singing in church. We didn’t even have a trumpet,” he
recalls.
Then
came 2005. A year he still calls the
turning point.
That’s when he joined St.
Andrew Primary School in Mutundwe—and
unknowingly stepped onto the road that would lead him to
international stages.
The Trumpet Called, and He Answered
As luck would have it, St. Andrew Primary School in Mutundwe had a brass band. And for a young boy just discovering music, that was nothing short of divine intervention.
“I remember the very first day I arrived at school,” Absolute Tonny recalls. “The brass band was rehearsing. I was immediately drawn to them. I went up to the trainer and asked if I could join.”
At the time, Tonny was small-framed—so much so that the trainer doubted whether he could even produce a sound from the trumpet.
“But I pleaded and pleaded until he gave me a chance,” he says with a grin.
What happened next was nothing short of a miracle. While other students had been struggling for weeks to produce a note, Tonny blew a clean, clear sound from the trumpet on his first attempt.
Everyone stood in awe—including the trainer.
“That was the beginning. I’ve held onto the trumpet ever since.”
With his newfound gift, accolades soon followed. At interschool competitions, he was routinely singled out as the best trumpeter. But Tonny wasn’t done learning. To sharpen his skills further, he joined M-Lisada—a respected children’s home in Nsambya that uses music, dance, education, and peer support to empower young people.
Even when he joined Kyambogo University to study economics, his trumpet was never far from his lips. And then came 2013—the year everything changed.
He got a call to perform at Hotel des Mille Collines in Kigali, Rwanda—a legendary venue with global acclaim.
“I was paid the equivalent of UGX 1.6 million per day,” he recalls, still sounding slightly amazed. “That’s when it clicked. Jazz could actually put food on the table. I decided to stay in Rwanda.”
He spent three transformative years performing in Kigali before returning to Uganda in 2017, following an invitation from Chris Ireland to join the Code 9 Band. Soon after, he transitioned to the Bakisimba Waves Band—and that's where his true jazz awakening began.
“My passion for jazz exploded while I was with Bakisimba Waves,” he says.
It was more than just the music. It was the curiosity it sparked in him.
“Why do they play like this? Why do people connect so deeply to it? What makes jazz different? What are these sounds trying to say? How does jazz touch you emotionally, intellectually, even spiritually?”
He found his answers in the music itself.
“Jazz opened my eyes to the beauty of spontaneity. It’s uplifting. It’s rich. It’s endlessly creative. It’s like life—happening in real time.”
He noticed that, unlike other genres, jazz musicians were in command. They weren’t just playing notes—they were inventing as they went along.
“That’s when I discovered the magic of improvisation—the lifeblood of jazz. That ability to create structure and beauty on the fly, in real time.”
Tonny was hooked.
He dove headfirst into jazz theory and technique, soaking up everything he could. “Jazz lets you borrow from anywhere—classical, African rhythms, funk, soul—you name it. It gives you the freedom to be fully yourself.”
To an untrained ear, he admits, jazz may sound like chaotic noise. But in reality, he says, it’s the most disciplined and demanding form of music out there.
“What sounds random is actually meticulously crafted. It takes extremely skilled musicians to pull it off—and I wanted to be one of them.”
Why Most Ugandans Don’t Dig Jazz Anymore
But let’s talk about the elephant in the room.
For all of Absolute Tonny’s talent, for all the global respect jazz commands—why is it that Ugandans just don’t seem to vibe with jazz music anymore? Only a few.
Walk into most bars, tune into your average radio station, scroll through the local music charts—and you’ll notice something: jazz is practically missing in action.
It wasn’t always this way.
Back in the 1960s, jazz was a big deal. So big that when the legendary Louis Armstrong visited Uganda in 1960, crowds lined the streets to welcome him like royalty. Thousands packed into Nakivubo Stadium to see him perform. Among them? A young Moses Matovu of Afrigo Band and the ever-stylish Tony Senkebejje—both of whom would go on to become musical giants in their own right.
Now ask yourself: if Louis Armstrong were to land at Entebbe Airport today, would he get the same hero’s welcome? Would Nakivubo even fill up?
Highly unlikely.
Over time, Ugandan music tastes have shifted. Our preferences, shaped by changing lifestyles, media trends, and cultural values, have leaned heavily toward simpler, more danceable genres.
It’s right there on your radio dial. Jazz barely gets airtime. In fact, even the word “jazz” has been rebranded locally. If you say you “play jazz,” someone might think you’re talking about drumming at a kwanjula. If you say “let me jazz you,” it means “let me chat you up.”
Jazz, as a serious musical form, has been sidelined.
Instead, genres like Kadongo Kamu, Afrobeat, and especially Kidandali have stolen the show. And it’s easy to see why: they’re catchy, danceable, and easy to sing along to. Jazz, on the other hand, demands attention. It doesn’t spoon-feed the listener. You can’t just vibe with jazz—you have to engage with it.
So
what happened?
Why did we, as a society, stop listening to
jazz?
Is it too “complicated”? Too “elite”? Too
“foreign”?
Absolute Tonny believes it comes down to a lack of understanding.
“Sometimes,” he says, “all it takes is sitting down with someone and walking them through a good jazz record. Explain what’s happening—not in technical jargon—but in simple terms. Show them how jazz works.”
According to him, jazz isn’t just a genre. It’s a conversation. A musical language where players take turns speaking—first the main melody, then solos, call-and-response with the drummer, and improvisation all woven together.
“Jazz emphasizes communication, individuality, expression, and style,” he says. “Once you understand that, it opens up a whole new universe.”
It may not be topping the charts or headlining concerts in Uganda today, but jazz still has its niche. Especially in corporate circles, where it's often the soundtrack to high-end dinners and networking events.
“There’s a following. It's just scattered,” Tonny adds. “We can build on that.”
And maybe—just maybe—there’s still a chance to bring jazz back to the Ugandan mainstream. Not by dumbing it down, but by inviting people in.
Giving Jazz a Ugandan Soul
For Absolute Tonny, the future of jazz in Uganda lies not in copying the West, but in owning the sound—infusing it with our rhythms, our languages, our stories.
And that’s exactly what he set out to do on his new album, “Tindiga”.
The record isn’t just a musical project. It’s a bold blueprint—a template for anyone who dreams of creating jazz with a Ugandan heartbeat.
The melodies are rich, the textures percussive, the spirit undeniably African. From start to finish, Tindiga blends the exotic swing of jazz with the traditional pulse of Buganda—think Baksimba, but laced with the improvisational finesse of New Orleans.
“I wanted to show the world what jazz could sound like if it was made here, by us, with our own roots,” he explains.
The title track, “Tindiga” (loosely translated as Town Trek), feels like the soundtrack of someone strolling through Kampala or Nairobi, earbuds in, listening to jazz stamped Made in Africa.
Every track on the album tells a story.
“Sukali (Brown Sugar)” is a funk-infused love ballad featuring Ken Musoke.
“Ekibo (Basket)” fuses Baksimba folk rhythms with swing jazz.
“Nkujukira (I Remember You)” is a silky, emotional ode to lost love.
“Entuuko (Death)”, produced by Kaz Kasozi, is a haunting reflection inspired by his mother’s brush with death in the ICU.
“It’s a song about life’s biggest milestones: birth, weddings... and yes, death,” Tonny says softly.
Then there’s “Olujuliro (Dinner)”, a song about food—but more than that, a song about sharing.
“In Africa, food brings us together. We share with strangers. That’s how I structured the song—like instruments sharing a meal, taking turns to lead and follow.”
Produced by Enock Rugumba, Kaz Kasozi, and JJ Bugoma, and mastered in the U.S. and Mexico, the album is a sonic journey. Tonny’s trumpet floats across tracks with lyrical freedom and soulful sensitivity, while the basslines groove with rhythmic complexity rarely heard in local productions.
It’s no surprise that “Tindiga” has been well received internationally. Tonny has since performed in jazz clubs in Idaho (USA), Japan, and Zanzibar, earning praise wherever he plays.
“Jazz is what raised me,” he says. “It taught me discipline, creativity, and emotion. I’m a trumpet teacher now, and I want to see more trumpet players in Uganda—not just saxophonists. Music still needs horns.”
He gives special thanks to Isaiah Katumwa, a fellow jazz pioneer who also started out in a brass band.
“Isaiah paved the way for saxophonists. I’ve tried to do the same for trumpet players. Legacy is not about fame—it’s about how many people you’ve mentored before you go.”
Despite his success in music, Absolute Tonny is not stopping there. He’s also currently studying International Relations and Diplomatic Studies at university.
“I see myself as a diplomat—but a jazz-playing diplomat,” he says with a smile.
And perhaps that’s the most fitting image of all: a Ugandan in a tailored suit, trumpet in hand, representing not just a country, but a culture—one jazz note at a time.
For those who still crave real music played on real instruments, and for anyone tired of the digitized noise that clogs our airwaves, Absolute Tonny is a breath of fresh air. And “Tindiga”? It’s a collector’s item. A love letter to jazz. And a proud declaration: Ugandan jazz is alive—and beautiful.
