DisCRDited

It is a hard thing trying to hypothesise the outcomes of your thoughts when your expectations for something are contradicted by the realities of the end product. Raised expectations can often be a deterrent to the actual value, splendor and “specialness” of the offering.

So this was my little experience as I my made my way to the “cool” of what I thought would be the highlight of street culture ala-all-things-ubber- all the rage, if you may. So it was my Western Etiquette that had the back of my neck damp as I contested with time. You see… I had been scheduled to be at the Str. Crd. HGH.STR media event on behalf of Kaffein Online Magazine on the 27 September 2012. There was certainly nothing sharp about my timing and might I add that being late makes me uncomfortable each and every time. So I rushed with all I had finding myself in Maboneng Precinct at an hour late. I grabbed my handbag hoping that African time had shown up for me once again and that I would not have to deal with the gore of being late. Be careful what you wish for cause ya’...Well yeah, as you've probably guessed, African time had insisted on making it presence felt. As I approached the venue, I was shocked to find that the setting up had only JUST begun. Really? Yes, really! Annoyed more than I was relieved, I couldn't help feeling disappointed. Not only had there been the entire day to set-up but with all the hype and media surrounding the four day event, this was how they opened their night, for the media.

Deep breathe. Relax. I decided to kill time with a friend I bumped into earlier on that evening waiting for the exact same ending as was I. Chat, laughter, catch-up, drink and more laughter. Until finally, just after nine we get word that the festivities had begun. I make my way to the media lounge and get the mighty passes that will gain us entry. Now what I really liked about these passes was that they were metal pins moulded to look like the Str. Crd logo, Dope! five points for that. We then make our way to the "high street joint" where just a short line later... We're in!

At first glance you peek into an underground setup that imbues hip-hop shanty basements with Aloe Blacc or A Tribe Called Quest bumping in the background. The kind of setting that evokes an underground belonging we all wanted as teens. And then as the fog screens drop, the night’s content is revealed. Hum? Is this it? Straight away I survey the options before me and almost immediately I realise there are very few, if any. Awkward.  I head inside wondering along the edges of the unknown still fuelled by the hopes of catching a whiff of the fumes of that "street cred" everyone's been talking about. I head off to the only bar in the place and of course it’s full. One would assume that the STR CRD types would drink rather generous amounts of alcohol right? One bar? Ok, change focus. There's always a flipside to everything. I tune in harder to the divine sounds of the DJ’s mix... Hmmm nothing on that end either, in fact I’m battling to hear anything. Music is the ultimate savior, and if that blotches it quite tough to make right.

So at this stage I'm sure you've gathered how hard it is for me to write this. The event was hard to interpret. Whilst I'll admit I was pretty disappointed at the level of "cool" that was served up; there is something special about where we stand as an emerging youth in the most developed nation on the continent. From the street fashion; to the sub-group movements that exist, it is so clear to me that we're the "New York" of Africa and you just cannot ignore that something unusually unique is going on. Right here, at our doorstep.

So I guess what I'm saying is this. High Street was just terrible in terms of execution. I was not amused by the design presentation that evoked a weak mixed media high-school exam, come fashion design project thinly defined. The bar was uninspiring, the sound and music was unconcerned with us being there and whilst the intention with the "presentation" was buoyant, I didn't feel as though that was art at its best. But perhaps on the other side I've misunderstood "street" to such a degree that anything more than what we were served that evening would have been something else, “unstreet”? I feel myself trying to convince myself.

Either way, there is a sect in SA that's is so evolved in pushing the envelope and at the leading edge of unapologetic "streetness"; "cool"; "up-to-the-minute-rage" and all the other words that go along with it that we just can't ignore. I was bored stiff but as I observed the individuals that flurried around me, I could’nt help but smirk at the time in which I live, right now in 2012. 18 years after apartheid - yeah I went there – the infantiles of South Africa are finding their own voice. A voice that is stark, unique and bold. The worlds eyes are on us and such platforms bring the kids out to play. Like kids... The essence of the environment played in is not of great concern as is the play. So with that… “Play children play for tomorrow you will be old.”

Written By: Vuyi Qubeka
video sourced from: http://iamorganichuman.blogspot.com