It’s been 50 years since We Intend to Cause Havoc’s heyday as arguably Zambia’s most popular rock band, but Emanyeo Chanda and co were full of zip for this gleefully grungy Leeds set. All that was needed was a little more intentional havoc.

Emanyeo Chanda is so dazzlingly colourful when he arrives on the stage in Leeds it’s easy to miss what he’s holding. He’s draped in a woolen scarf displaying the red, black, yellow and green of his native Zambia, which is paired with a floral shirt, a yellow and red cap, a white leather jacket and shimmering cyan trousers. Somewhere underneath it all is a tie – also floral and multicoloured, naturally. But what is the round object in his hand, which he holds up to his mouth, turned away from the audience as if drinking from it? Surely Chanda, 74 years old and revered as one of his country’s greatest musicians and songwriters, isn’t slipping in a last minute Buzz Ball? Then I got a glimpse of what he’s really been holding: a succulent lemon, halved and squeezed into the mouth apparently to sharpen the senses before Chanda’s first bellowed vocalisations.

It’s as good a metaphor as any for this remarkable performer, whose health-conscious tendencies have surely contributed to his exceptional longevity as the spirited frontman of WITCH. He is one of two surviving founding members of the group who formed in the early 70s and could be reasonably described as the Beatles of Zambia in their heyday, their blend of British and American psych rock with traditional African music effectively founding the popular Zamrock genre. Economic and political strife in the late 80s forced WITCH, along with all other Zamrock bands, into obscurity. It was only in 2012, when re-releases of WITCH’s hits gained popularity amongst tastemakers in Europe and the US, that WITCH reformed with the help of three new European band members. Gio Arlotta’s 2019 feature film named after the band charted this dramatic revival, and it seems Chanda hasn’t looked back since.

Belgrave Music Hall, which is hardly approaching capacity tonight, may seem like a humbling venue for a band that once were at the pinnacle of their country’s music scene, but Chanda attacks this gig like he’s headlining the O2, launching from one end of the stage to the other in bursts of interpretative dance during each of tonight’s numerous instrumental breaks. WITCH stands for We Intend to Cause Havoc, and Chanda largely lived up to the name tonight, albeit in measured, unexpectedly heartwarming fashion by spontaneously high-fiving fans in the front row, and at one point passing a cowbell around the crowd for impromptu audience solos (“Just feel it, man!” is his advice to one of the more reluctant cowbellists).

Chanda’s voice has only become richer and more sonorous with age, and he holds nothing back for moving renditions of Nazingwa and Bleeding Thunder. The latter is a call for peace borne from the guerrilla warfare of 1970s Zambia which Chanda notes as having new resonance in today’s troubled times. Tonight he’s a relentlessly captivating frontman, but he’s also more than happy to cede to his rock solid supporting band, munching on a banana (ripped in half by hand) as fellow WITCH founder Patrick Mwondela rips into a soaring Hammond organ solo. Between songs, Chanda is just as lovable with spur-of-the-moment reminiscences of his upbringing in Zambia. “Give me one minute,” he says suddenly in the middle of one before strolling backstage, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of water. The slightly weary expressions on his bandmates’ faces suggest this is par for the course for a Chanda-led gig. “I was going to say sorry… but I’m not sorry,” is all Chanda says after his absence, nonchalantly popping a few grapes before the next song.

Waile, the most impactful single of WITCH’s modern era so far, is tonight’s obvious highlight, a muscular, Led Zeppelin-style guitar riff rubbing shoulders with an elastic tribal groove, although it’s hard to ignore Chanda’s pitchy vocals in the downtempo bridge. Kamusale is compellingly grungy and Like a Chicken ends the night on a giddy, carefree note, but – Chanda’s considerable onstage antics aside – many of tonight’s tracks feel pedestrian and light on the aforementioned havoc. Reviews of the band’s raucous previous tour – shows which invariably ended in musicians from the support acts flooding the stage for a free-flowing psych rock jam session – suggest WITCH may not be quite firing on all cylinders tonight. That said, it’s not like the band’s sprightly septuagenarian ever appears tired, and his undying love for this music he’s cherished for over 50 years is inspiring. He leaves the stage practically skipping with glee, fruit bowl in hand.

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