The bad seats rock
NO PRETENSIONS: EVERYONE IS THERE TO HAVE A GOOD TIME AND IT’S INFECTIOUS
I always plan to get the good seats – but the cheapies come with wonderful vibes.
Ihave always been lucky that my parents prioritised getting me great seats for concerts. It’s not that they were wealthy, they just recognised my passion for music at a young age and made sacrifices.
Back in the apartheid era, the closest exiles Caiphus Semenya and Letta Mbulu could come to home was neighbouring Lesotho. I was about eight years old when my dear father bought us front row seats because of how much I loved playing their records at home. At some point, I swear Mam Letta sang directly at me. A seed was planted, and the lesson was eternal.
The night my parents came back from seeing Sarafina for the first time at the Market Theatre they talked about it for almost three hours before falling asleep. They continued to speak about it for the next month.
The envy in my heart. I tried to get the details from what they shared with each other to create mental images of what it could have looked like on stage. So when my father brought the Sarafina soundtrack cassette home, my obsession grew like a well into a dam in rainy season. I held on to that soundtrack for dear life. I listened to it every waking second.
I don’t know what connections my father had because even when I was below the age restriction, he got me the best seats in the theatre and when Sarafina came back from the US tour, I finally saw a production that changed my life forever.
By the time I took my first baby steps onto the pathways of this bloodthirsty entertainment industry, I knew that having some talent would get me on stage, and that would come with the biggest advantage of all – great seats. And so it was.
From being Thembi Seete’s roadie, to Flabba’s manager, to Unathi’s music director, to Y magazine editor to finally being a recording artist myself, the inspiration was always the same, getting the best seats at my favourite artists’ shows.
From the Jay-Z concert at the Dome, to seeing Erykah Badu at the Cape Town International Jazz Festival, to the small shows in the city to check out Kwani Experience or Thandi Ntuli, I always had the best seats. How do I define great seats?
The sound is clear. I am close enough to the speakers to hear every single note.
The stage is visible. I don’t need to be looking at the big screens on the side of the stage because I am close enough to see the artist on the stage.
The surrounding space is well barricaded so you can move around freely without your personal space being invaded.
So this week I went to Soul Fest to cover the SWV, TLC and Dru Hill concert. I e-mailed the promoter’s PR office for accreditation. They only e-mailed me back two days after their concert to say that my e-mail went into their spam folder. Okay. Luckily, on the day of the concert a “friend” WhatsApped me two tickets. My wife and I got excited, dolled ourselves up and drove off in high spirits to have a great time.
But my “friend” had bought us BAD SEATS!! I was raised to be thankful for what I’m given, so I willed myself to have a great night.
I was not prepared. Firstly, we were directly behind the big sound engineer block so we were forced to stand the entire show. I also figured out that the sound engineer can only mix sound for as far as s/he can hear. We were furthest from the stage, which means furthest from the speakers, so the sound was a mess. And the artists looked like ants and we had to watch the side screens.
The problem with being in VIP is that people always want to discuss one thing or another.
There is none of that in the cheap seats. There are no egos and everybody is there to have a great time. It’s infectious. You realise that when TLC mimes Waterfalls, the tone-deaf couple next to you are feeling the same sense of excitement as you. That feeling of familiarity is irreplaceable.
Kabomo Vilakazi is an award-winning musician, actor and ex-editor of Y-Mag and Uncutt.
There are no egos and everyone is having a great time