JON MUQ

Jon Muq, acclaimed singer-songwriter, born and raised in Uganda and now based in Austin, Texas, believes that even our mistakes can lead us where we are meant to go. Long before he understood that singing could become his profession, or imagined that music would carry him around the world, he learned to trust sound as a compass. A school brass band led him to his first instrument. A recording introduced him to harmony and the English language. A guitar heard behind a fence in his village gave him a way to accompany his voice. Years later, songs shared online carried him from Uganda to thousands of stages around the world. What may appear to be a series of extraordinary “accidents” was, for Muq, a gradual journey of listening, trusting his instincts, and discovering what he was capable of one step at a time. “What’s in front of people did not just happen because it’s in front of them,” he explains. “It passed through a process, stage by stage.”

Born in Uganda in 1993 alongside his twin sister, Muq grew up in a young family still learning how to make its way in the world. They shared a single room divided by a curtain, with no electricity and holes in the iron-sheet roof. When the candle went out, starlight entered through the same openings that let in the rain.

Looking back from America, Muq understands how difficult those circumstances were, but as a child, he had nothing
else against which to measure them. The house was simply home, and life unfolded within what his family had. That
early ability to find wonder alongside hardship would eventually become central to his songwriting, which often
transforms uncertainty, heartbreak, and displacement into songs of hope, movement, and connection.

His fascination with music began at school, where a brass band performed the school anthem. While other students
watched from a distance, Muq positioned himself among the horn players, absorbed by the force of the sound and
the way the trumpets and trombones blended together. After nearly two years of listening, one of the musicians
handed him a bugle, an instrument similar to a trumpet but without valves. Although Muq had never played one, he
instinctively reproduced the sound he had heard. The musician was startled. Muq was less surprised. Without
realizing it, he had been a student every time he sat beside the band, storing notes in his mind. “My brain could grasp
the sound real quick,” he remembers. Muq did not yet recognize this ability as musical talent. He only knew that once
he heard something, he rarely forgot it.

When he entered boarding school at age eleven, he was immediately drawn to the choir. Eager to join, he
volunteered to clean up after the other students and help however he could. Word of his natural ability spread quickly,
and before long, the choir director was asking older students to follow the young newcomer’s example. As he had
with the brass band, Muq learned by listening closely and absorbing everything around him.

One summer, while staying with a cousin in Kampala and helping care for his cousin’s newborn, Muq discovered a
recording that would become a throughline in his life: “We Are the World.” He recognized Michael Jackson but knew
little about the other singers. Hearing so many distinct voices coexist within one song introduced him to harmony and
expanded his understanding of what a voice could do. Muq studied the performances one by one, imitating the
singers’ tones, phrasing, and vocal personalities. The song also opened a path into English, his second language
after Luganda.

At first, Muq was afraid to let anyone hear him sing in English. He waited until nightfall and walked through the village
singing in the dark, where residents could hear his voice without seeing his face. During one of those walks, he heard
an instrument playing behind a fence. Muq followed the sound and knocked on the door, where he found two men
playing church songs. Although he had seen guitars on television, he had never encountered one in person.
Fascinated, he asked whether he could return each day simply to watch. It took nearly six months for Muq to earn
enough trust to play the instrument. At first, he was allowed only to pick up the guitar after the music ended and place
it in its case. Later, he began touching the strings. Eventually, the guitarist allowed him to borrow it.

The first song Muq learned to play was “We Are the World.”

As his confidence grew, Muq began thinking about the children he regularly saw living on the streets of Kampala. He
realized that if he sat down and played for them, they might become the first audience to gather specifically to hear him.

When he opened his guitar case, the children immediately surrounded him. They did not care that his English
was still developing or that his repertoire was limited. They simply listened. Muq continued performing for them for
months before inviting a close friend to see what he had been doing. After watching, the friend told Muq that his voice
could take him around the world. He offered to record a performance and post it to Facebook. The video eventually
reached representatives from Norwegian Cruise Line, who contacted Muq about performing aboard one of their
ships. The possibility seemed larger than life. After an exhaustive process, he obtained his first passport and
attended a visa interview. When the consular officer questioned how he had received the opportunity, Muq answered
in the way he knew best: he sang “We Are the World.” His visa was approved.

Muq left the embassy crying, overwhelmed by the realization that he might actually be going to America. Even at the
airport, his family struggled to believe the journey was real. Muq himself did not understand the mechanics of
international travel. After passing through security, he assumed he would be able to return and properly say goodbye.
Instead, officials directed him forward toward the plane. It would be six years before he saw his family again.

When Muq arrived in America, he had four dollars in his pocket. He was initially terrified to sing for passengers who
spoke English fluently, but another crew member offered simple advice: they had no choice but to listen. As Muq
performed, passengers wrote down requests and compared his voice to artists including Tracy Chapman. When the
ship reached port, he printed lyrics to the songs they mentioned and carried them back onboard in a large book. The
experience expanded his repertoire and deepened his understanding of English-language songwriting. He became
particularly drawn to Chapman’s direct storytelling and, later, the melodic scope of artists such as Elton John. Those
influences helped shape Muq’s own approach: clear language, memorable melodies, and emotionally complex ideas
expressed in ways that can travel across cultures.

When his contract with Norwegian Cruise Line ended, he received an offer to perform for free and volunteer at a
refugee center in Texas. Muq arrived in Austin during South by Southwest. Everywhere he looked, people were
carrying guitars.

“I thought, maybe this is where I want to be lost,” he remembers.

Another accident soon changed the course of his life. After mistakenly assuming that a friend had written the Beatles’
“Blackbird,” Muq learned the song and posted his interpretation to Instagram. The performance caught the attention
of producer Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys. Auerbach brought Muq to Nashville and produced his debut album,
Flying Away. The record introduced Muq’s hopeful, emotionally direct songwriting to audiences around the world and
led to performances across the United States, Europe, Canada, New Zealand, and Australia. He has since shared
stages with Billy Joel, Van Morrison, Norah Jones, Mavis Staples, Corinne Bailey Rae, and Valerie June.

The release of Flying Away also allowed Muq to return to Uganda after six years away. The home and neighborhood
he remembered seemed physically smaller, leaving him to wonder how his family had fit so much life into so little
space. The visit was joyful but disorienting. People still saw the 23-year-old who had left, while Muq carried years of
experiences and transformations they had not witnessed. He came away determined to preserve his relationship with
Uganda and prevent the speed and scale of American life from erasing the perspective he had formed there. Another
journey soon helped give that instinct a larger purpose.

That instinct soon grew into something larger. After one of Muq’s performances abroad, a Ugandan acquaintance
introduced him to multicultural events that brought people from different backgrounds together through music. Struck
by how freely people of different races and cultures shared the same space, Muq returned to Austin unable to stop
thinking about what he had seen.

Working alongside his manager, music executive Kevin Wommack, Jon Muq expanded an initial event concept into a
global platform: Shake It Africa. Operating across Africa, Europe, and North America, the record label and live
entertainment company provides African artists with the sustained creative and professional support Muq lacked early
in his career.

Its debut release, Bantu Muntu, is a 10-track compilation bringing together artists from Uganda, Kenya, Ghana, and
Nigeria—including Muq, Jaywon, Jeff Akoh, Kaesa, Biya, MicPro256, Aziz Azion, and Njuguna—highlighting how
individual African voices can unite into something larger.

“We’re not just releasing music,” Muq says. “We’re creating the kind of opportunities many of us wished existed when
we were starting out. Shake It Africa is about making sure more African artists are seen, heard, and supported
without compromising who they are.”

In many ways, the company completes a circle that began when Muq positioned himself among the brass players at
school. He was once the child trying to get as close as possible to a sound he did not understand. Then he became
the singer walking through the dark, hoping someone might listen. Later, he became the artist whose voice traveled
across the internet to people capable of opening doors. Now, he is helping create those doors for someone else.