Righteous redemption

It's about time the legendary Mahotella Queens, the female voice of a disenfranchised South African generation, finally made it to Atlanta, which played such a pivotal role in the American Civil Rights Movement. It's been almost 40 years since the Mahotella Queens first rose to fame in the black townships back home, offering hope (when, in truth, there was none) to a people under the cruel thumb of apartheid.

Unfortunately, due to a series of tragic deaths in the past few years, their longtime male colleagues, frontman Mahlathini (aka "King of the Groaners" and "The Lion of Soweto") and the Makgona Tsohle Band, no longer accompany them. But their latest album, the vibrant and feisty Sebai Bai (Indigo), finds the three in fine fettle, with little sign of the passing years and no softening of their commitment to social justice.

This marks the third phase of Mahotella Queens' career, after the big hits of the early years (1964-'71) and, following some time off for family, the late '80s (Paul Simon-inspired) comeback/reunion with Mahlathini and the Makgona Tsohle Band. After the emotionally draining losses of recent times, where do they get the energy and inspiration this time around?

"At first, I would say that when the guys left us, it was very difficult," says Hilda Tloubatla via a flaky phone connection from her home in Johannesburg. "We got new, younger musicians, and we had to rehearse with them quite a long time. But things are back to normal now; it's like the others are still alive and with us. The sound is really no different, except Mahlathini's voice is no longer there. Nothing else has changed."

Tloubatla has been singing and dancing with Mildred Mangxola and Nobesuthu Mbadu for so long now that the three women seem to form a single organic unit -- one blessed with soaring harmonies and amazingly dynamic footwork that knocks the socks off the torso-baring chart-topping babes vying for the attention of the teen market.

Incredibly, 1987 marked the first time the ladies ever performed outside South Africa.

"Oh my God, when we went to Paris, it was amazing. We were suppressed for such a long time at home, only playing to black audiences. Can you hear me now?" asks Tloubatla, the phone crackling ominously. "We had never seen white people at our shows. In France, the audience was mixed. White people dancing to our music? Oh my God!"

The group had to wait several years until it was offered the same opportunity back home. "I never thought of it! We never thought that Nelson Mandela would be released; we thought he would die in jail," Tloubatla muses. "Then, in 1994, we got our independence. Now we are getting to know white people better, and they are getting to know us. We are not there yet, but things are going well. And we hope that in two or three years, things will be much better."

The Mahotella Queens perform in the mbaqanga style -- and like the dumpling after which it's named (in Zulu), it's earthy and nourishing. Traditional percussive styles are updated with electric instruments -- spiky guitar, propulsive bass, swelling keyboards. Sebai Bai also boasts the occasional accordion and trumpet. Some of the songs are pure fun, while others appeal to South Africans to lay down their arms and respect their neighbors. The album closes with a moving tribute to the three musicians and colleagues the group lost since its last recording.

The Mahotella Queens are excited to be coming to Atlanta, the first date on their U.S. tour. "America got a lot from Africa, and Africa has much to teach America still -- our culture, our different dances, songs, rhythms and languages. Can you hear me now?"

We hear you, Hilda.

The Mahotella Queens play Thurs., June 13, at the Variety Playhouse, 1099 Euclid Ave. 8 p.m. $15. 404-524-7354. www.variety-playhouse.com.