This epistle is not on Silent Killer the man, but on his art. Silent Killer, born Jimmy Mudereri in the early ’90s, is more than just a controversial and celebrated musician, he is now a movement. Ngwere, as he is affectionately known by his legion of fans, has outgrown and outshone the streets of Zimbabwean music by singing what many call “nonsense music” – yes, nonsense. And yet, that nonsense has become a genre of its own.
For many locals, this genre may seem like Ngwere’s unique creation, but nonsense music has been sung far and wide across the globe.
Today, even children as young as eight have joined the trailblazing movement of meaningless rhymes, imitating not just Ngwere’s lyrics but his mannerisms, stage presence, and swagger.
A movement worth noting—and reckoning with.
In the final scene of Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times, Chaplin’s character famously loses the lyrics to a song moments before he is to perform and instead sings complete gibberish.
The audience, unaware, erupts in applause. The song sounds to native English speakers like a mixture of Italian and French, yet it is intelligible in neither language.
Chaplin’s brilliance lay in his improvisation.
In a curious and profound way, Silent Killer operates in similar territory but his gibberish is intentional, crafted.
He does not forget lyrics; he simply does not write them.
Ngwere freestyles his way through performances, rhyming nonsense, and, like Chaplin, wins over audiences with flair and rhythm rather than meaning.
This approach is not entirely new. In 1972, Italian artist Adriano Celentano released a song titled Prisencolinensinainciusol, written entirely in fake English.
Celentano wanted to mimic the sound of American English without using real words, highlighting what he called “the inability to communicate.”
He explained: “To do this, I had to write a song where the lyrics did not mean anything.” Sound familiar?
Ngwere has perfected this art locally. His lyrics—mostly in Shona—often include made-up words, invented rhythms, and sounds that may mean nothing on the surface but evoke feeling, energy, and character.
His fans ascribe their own meanings, crafting personal narratives around the lyrics.
In a way, he offers a mirror, not a message.
This style aligns with what some call nonsense verse—a poetic device where words or phrases are chosen more for their rhythm and sound than their semantic value.
Others refer to it as phonetic lyrics or abstract lyrics, and though they seem devoid of meaning, they are rich in expression.
Whether as an exercise in creative freedom, a tool for emotional expression, or simply a way to make catchy melodies, meaningless lyrics are an artistic choice.
Ngwere’s music demonstrates this with fearless commitment.
There is even a broader, often overlooked field of literary art known as anemic writing.
Derived from the word “anemia” – a lack or deficiency – it refers to text that mimics human communication but offers no clear semantic meaning.
The goal is not confusion but the evocation of something deeper: rhythm, sound, texture, and feeling.
Before one is quick to dismiss Ngwere’s music as mere gibberish, it is worth pausing to reflect on the tradition behind it.
This is not laziness—it is deliberate, and arguably, ingenious.
Where other musicians agonize over lyrics that might sound too clever or not clever enough, Ngwere skips the semantic burden entirely.
“Words do not come easy,” as pop poet and philosopher Father David once observed.
Ngwere doesn’t seem to mind. His focus is to deliver what he feels in the moment—and the audience responds.
Indeed, he is not alone. Experimental and avant-garde artists across the globe have made careers out of abstract or meaningless lyrics.
From Bob Dylan’s surreal poetic verses to The Beatles’ “I Am the Walrus” and Björk’s linguistic experiments, many have explored the art of saying nothing—and yet saying everything.
Ngwere, however, is arguably in a class of his own in Zimbabwe. His disciples are growing in number, mastering the style, and spreading it far and wide.
Whether it is seen as a new art form or the next wave in local music evolution, one thing is certain: gibberish music is here to stay.
Silent Killer has created more than a catalogue—he has sparked a cultural shift. And while critics debate the merits of his lyrics, the people have already decided. They are singing along.