In South Africa, gender-based violence remains a sobering reality that shapes our political discourse, and a predatory spectre that constantly haunts the everyday lives of women across the country. It’s within this context that singer-songwriter Jimmy Nevis released his latest single, “PREY,” positioning the track as a response to the ongoing conversation rather than a resolution.
“PREY is about recognising a reality that too many women face every day,” Nevis told TATC, framing the song as an act of acknowledgement as much as an expression of the anxiety the crisis incites. Written in the wake of nationwide protests led by Women For Change, the track saw Nevis step into a more reflective role, using his platform to engage with a broader social moment. “As artists we have a responsibility to reflect the times we live in,” he explained. “This song is my way of standing in solidarity and reminding people that the conversation around gender-based violence cannot fade.”
What emerges is not a song that attempts to speak over or for the voices of victims, but one that sits alongside with an awareness of its position, careful in how it occupies space. It’s a delicate, hymnal power ballad that carries that awareness through the writing.
The song locates its message in the everyday. Lyrics like “in Gugulethu or Mandela Drive… going home in an Uber ride,” ground the fear it describes in places that feel recognisable and close to home. The repeated refrain, “I pray they don’t prey on me,” becomes less a hook and more a condition, a line that echoes beyond the track itself to the lived realities of those it looks to empower. “PREY” finds its weight outside of metaphor, naming what is already known but not always confronted.
The same thinking extends into the visual world of the release. The accompanying music video directed by Nic Manshon draws on the language of protest and the imagery of the Women For Change national shutdown, featuring a group of women dressed in black lying in stillness around Nevis as he performs. Meanwhile, dancer Natasha Fakir performs against a blue-lit backdrop of Cape Town, interspersed with footage from the actual protest.
Released alongside a live debut at the Cape Town International Jazz Festival, “PREY” entered the world as part of a much larger moment that has backdropped South Africa’s present. It’s a reminder that music, at its most effective, doesn’t always provide answers, nor does it have to. Sometimes, it simply insists that we keep the conversation going.
