Trying to describe a BCUC show always ends with wild hand gestures and the phrase “you just have to see them.” The Soweto collective channel a fierce, physical blend of ancestral rhythms, spiritually-charged vocals, basslines that hit like thunder, and a political fire that never once feels didactic — just honest, urgent and utterly alive. They call it “Africangungungu,” but really it’s a kind of ritual: part protest, part celebration, part ecstatic release.

Songs stretch, evolve, mutate — sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for twenty — but never lose their grip. Jovi Nkosi’s vocals soar and crackle, the percussion locks you into a trance, and the energy on stage feels like it could topple mountains. It’s raw and cathartic, but also joyful in a way that sneaks up on you.

BCUC are one of those rare acts who can turn a field of strangers into a single, roaring heartbeat. We’re unbelievably excited to bring them back to Deer Shed.