In the gritty echoes of Bulawayo’s hip-hop past, few names ring as loudly as Maestro IV. Known in the streets as Top Jita, he was the life of the party, the wild card with chart-topping tracks, a loyal fan base, and a stage presence that masked a quiet storm within. But today, that man is gone. What remains is something raw, real, and deeply resonant. He now goes by Melusi Writes—a name that’s less of a rebrand and more of a rebirth.

After dropping S.C.A.R.S in 2018, a 16-track project that hinted at an inner reckoning, Melusi stepped away from music entirely. “I no longer resonated with Maestro IV,” he says. “He was built on parties, women, drugs, and alcohol. But that wasn’t me anymore.” That disconnect, between the persona and the man, between the art and the artist, became impossible to ignore. The mask had to come off.

The break was not just a musical pause it was a spiritual awakening. “I started asking myself, ‘Is this the kind of music I want my daughter to grow up listening to?’ The answer was no.” It was that moment raw, fatherly, vulnerable that ignited a transformation. The flashy Maestro IV persona, once created to hide deep insecurities, gave way to Melusi: the man, the father, the truth-teller.

Under the moniker Melusi Writes, he’s no longer performing he’s testifying.

And the proof is in his latest offering: Usizolwami, a soul-stirring anthem of surrender and healing. Drawing inspiration from Psalm 121:1 (“I lift up my eyes to the hills where does my help come from?”), the song is a melodic cry from the depths of despair, laced with the hope of divine intervention.

“Usizolwami was born from one of the lowest points in my life,” Melusi shares. “I had no support, no understanding from those around me. I had to look to God.” That look turned into lyrics, and those lyrics rode a vibrant amapiano beat produced by Joel proof that faith and fire can coexist on a track.

This isn’t just music it’s ministry.
Gone are the days of hype and hedonism. In their place is a message rooted in vulnerability and faith. “Now, everything I write is real,” he says. “There’s no performance, no mask just me, Melusi, writing his heart out.” It’s this shift from alter ego to alter call that’s defining his new chapter.

Surprisingly, the name change hasn’t alienated old fans it’s attracted new ones. “Most of my current supporters are new,” he notes, “especially from faith-based spaces and social platforms. But those who’ve grown with me? They get it. They’ve evolved too.”

In true redemption arc fashion, Usizolwami even resurrects an old idea. “Back in 2015, I had recorded a song with the same title it never came out. Years later, during a tough season, Psalm 121 resurfaced, and I knew it was time to breathe new life into that message.”

And this time, it’s not just a track it’s a movement.

Melusi has already recorded four gospel tracks and is eyeing a full album. “The vision is clear,” he says. “The music is ready. The messages are powerful. The only thing slowing us down is resources.” Still, he remains hopeful. “Bulawayo’s music scene is in for something fresh something purposeful.”

So what’s next? More genre-bending sounds. More spiritual storytelling. More of Melusi, unfiltered.

“I’m not chasing fame anymore,” he says. “I’m chasing purpose.”

And if he could sum up his journey from Maestro IV to Melusi Writes in one sentence?

“From the party to the pulpit, God made it possible.”