Unfortunately, as with every ill thought out plan by weak minds the blow back was/is reminiscent of a synthetic outbreak intended to harm and/or control only one set group. However, they tend to infect indiscriminately. The result is the bhutification of the nation. So dramatic and invasive is this disease that not even the nice uptown Brownings were to survive the Bhutu epidemic. The recent Babyface concert held at the National Indoor Arena brought to light the Bhuturized uptown practices that seem now ingrained in the culture like darkness does for cockroaches. For most parties the VIP section conjures images of velvet ropes and exclusivity. The very meaning of the abbreviation Very Important People oozes opulence and rareness and the impression of intimacy with the performers that could never be garnered by those who occupy the cheap-ass nose bleed seats. Very Important Behinds are seated comfortably here and the rest of you poor bastards should be overflowing with jealousy.
Unfortunately this is not the case with a great majority of these Jamaican events the money spent on procuring a VIP ticket one would gain greater value and satisfaction using said money to wipe ones ass and watch it being flushed down the toilet. This was the feeling I got from the recent Diana King /Babyface show. This was infinitely sad, as the lineup was not the normal ‘Buff Baff’ rabble of Vybz Kartel and Bounty Killer therefore; the expected experience was somewhat different. I have seen the glowing reviews of the show from different media houses and I wonder was this the same event or what? Jamaicans have always been blamed for poor customer service practices and the Jamaican show promoter heads the list of persons oblivious to the term customer delight.
The old adage “You get what you pay for” is an insult for those who forked out big bucks for the so-called VIP access to this and many other stage shows (usually in my case I get robbed twice or even thrice as I never learn my lesson and go alone to the so called VIP). For example, the $6500 spent at the Babyface concert gets you entry into the acoustic nightmare that is the National Indoor Sports Arena (a Turnkey Productions event). Yes I am sure there are ways to circumvent the awful sound that one would get from a huge echo friendly space with hard walls and seats meaning, the sound would constantly bounce back however, the sound technician (and I use technician very loosely) must have been a recent graduate as the sound for the night for all performances was so harsh and offensive to the ears.
For an event billed for couples one would think the hidden agenda was for said couples to go home and have sex. The décor if you can call it that went in another direction. There was no romantically draped fabric anywhere, nothing to suggest love or even lust. It was so bad that my Louis Vuitton Don had to ask,
“Eve honey is this a joke or did you take me to a children’s party?”
The god awful white plastic lawn chairs that no one thought of putting a cheap slip cover over to create some kind of different ambiance not to mention the hard ass stadium benches no one though to put cushions on after all it WAS V.I.P. There was nothing inclusive in the so called VIP access so patrons had the pleasure of buying refreshments and being served in the very very very did I mention very cheap plastic cups and cocktail plates the cheap ones not the Chinet or Dixie ones.
A Legend Only in the Mind
Quarter Century of Cloth
Freak in Dancehall