stop making sense

March 23, 2006

If you’ve seen Charlie Jade, the slick and incomprehensible Sci-fi series that has a Canadian flitting between accents and parallel universes in and around Cape Town, then the South African Music Award (SAMA) nominations will make perfect sense to you.

If not, let me try and make things a little clearer: in a place that looks a lot like this one, Kurt Darren lounges on a pile of Kruger Rands as wan label execs mop his brow and gesture to the dozens of adoring fans clutching “Vat My, Maak My Joune” to their ample bosoms. Around the back, Seether are handed a small plaque and congratulated on their ‘freshness’ and ‘originality’, before being stripped of their passports and told to trim their hair. The SAMA marketing police patrol tirelessly, handing out accordions and marimbas to kids in Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge t-shirts. In this universe – the Jo(ma se)verse, I am a P.A. named Cindy.

Fortunately I’m typing this in the next universe over. I inhabit this reality as myself, only taller and slightly whinier. Here the bands play loud, thrilling songs about drunks and Satan – on guitars, not keyboards or thumb-pianos. They even have better hair. Yes, of course the likes of Kurt Darren and Watershed still exist, but no one pretends that they own any of their records or that they think they’re any good. This universe is called Secondverse. And it’s not quite the same as the first.


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