Fred is a Rwandan-Belgian artist with a voice that floats somewhere between warm tea and a smoky Sunday evening. He moves at the crossroads of hip-hop and soul, but anyone who’s seen him live knows that “moves” is no euphemism. The man lives his music. Not with choreographies or light shows, but with raw energy, charisma that needs no media training, and lyrics that hit like a sharp left hook if you’re not paying attention.
In 2023, the wider public finally took notice when he casually scooped both the jury and audience prizes at Sound Track. Double win. Since then, he’s shared the stage with names like Michael Franti, Martha Da’ro, Hak Baker, and Antony Szmierek— artists who, each in their own way, do more than just deliver a catchy hook.
Fred Gata also uses his platform to lift others up. Preferably young talent. Insecure and unpolished. Through the First Aid program by vi.be, he coaches up-and-coming artists, and at nights like ‘Grab The Mic’ in Zomerfabriek or ‘RAUW’ in Het Depot, you’ll see him cheer just as loudly for a trembling sixteen-year-old as for a seasoned spoken word veteran. Fred creates spaces where you’re allowed to stumble. And where that’s completely okay.
Besides music, Fred also works with visuals. Not because it’s trendy, but because some stories just can’t be told in four minutes with a beat underneath. As a photographer and painter, he zooms in on faces, bodies, and emotions. His images are raw, like his lyrics. And honest, in a way you rarely see on Instagram.
And then there’s his social voice. No manifestos or clenched fists at press conferences, but personal stories. In the podcast ‘Legende in de Living’, he spoke openly about intergenerational trauma. During the Mental Health Expo at De Roma, he helped make mental vulnerability a topic of conversation—not with stats or jargon, but simply by being himself, cracks and all.
Today, he’s working with his seven-piece band, ‘Fred Gata And The Mothership’, on new material. Soul, hip-hop, beats, a bit of chaos, and a lot of love. It’s shaping up to be a universe where there’s space for tears, dancing, and a small revolution—all at once.
