The theatres may have been empty, but 1999 saw massive new audiences for television and music, writes Charl Blignaut
Television
One day near the beginning of 1999 a producer at Generations was called to reception at the SABC studio to “deal with a situation”. Waiting for him with a letter in her hand was an aspiring soap star who had trekked halfway across the country to claim a lead role in Generations.
“I am Ntsiki,” she said.
The hapless producer was faced with the task of explaining to her that she had been conned. In true South African pop culture style, a scam artist had been travelling to remote areas and holding paid casting competitions for Generations. The turnout must have been considerable. In 1999, Generations – set in the still ominously fictional world of black advertising’s nouveau riche – became the most-watched serial in the history of South African television. As it settled into its sixth season, the producer might have expected a zealous response from viewers, but no one in television could possibly have been prepared for the year the soaps went pop.
Registering about seven million daily viewers, Generations overtook The Bold and the Beautiful in the ratings. Isidingo, a more realistic mining drama with multi- cultural aspirations, celebrated its first birthday just shy of a million viewers a day, overnight giving birth to another clutch of household names.
Egoli, the original South African soapie, turned 10 years old and celebrated its 2 000th episode. At a lavish millennial ball swirling with fraught couture a serial killer slit the throat of one of the show’s social butterflies.
Lest we forget, before the SABC’s soaps generated a whole new star system it was Egoli that first offered us the celebrity roadshow, causing much agitation in shopping malls across the country. Fans clawed to catch a glimpse of the Egoli madams wearing high hair, swathes of tulle and those obligatory shiny shawls. There was also the chance of spotting one of Egoli’s Mr South Africa finalist types in a Speedo, looking civic-minded-yet-virile.
Over at Generations fans could not get enough villainy, and Pamela Nomvete, who plays Ntsiki, became the most recognisable face on TV. If social life was taxing for the new stars, doing the groceries was positively surreal. Nomvete was slapped in the face in Woolworths and tugged by rival viewer factions at a Dion Store. Hanlie Rolfes, playing the recovering alcoholic Sarah-Lee, found trips to the bottle store increasingly traumatic as demented fans tried desperately to keep her sober. Michelle Botes, the scheming Cherel in Isidingo, was stopped in Checkers and asked, in all earnestness, if she could pass on some tips on how best to murder a spouse.
And then someone sprayed Generations star Florence Masebe’s car with bullets as she was on her way home. The press went crazy. Rumours surfaced of a hit list with top Generations stars on it. There were crank calls on private cellphones; actors went into hiding; some poor fan even called the SABC saying it was he who did it, he would take the blame, arrest him.
Apparently South Africa was struggling to find its way around the new star system, having grown up worshipping distant American idols instead of ones that could be bumped off at the corner caf.
Speculation about Masebe’s “real life soap opera” was rife. Was it more than a hijack attempt? Was it a crazed stalker? Was it a professional rival? What no one seems to have asked is how a show the size of Generations could be without a functioning marketing or public relations department; without anyone there to mediate between its stars and the public.
In March, Tebogo Mahlatsi and Angus Gibson’s Yizo Yizo rocked the blackboard and clattered into the headlines. Incredibly, it had taken more than two decades for local youth to find its voice in a TV drama. One can’t help but marvel that it took the SABC 25 years to figure out that all it needed to do to reach 60% of the population was speak to them directly.
It came as a bit of a surprise then, that when Yizo Yizo was deemed rabidly controversial in the press the SABC education division was unapologetic. It was made clear that it refused to shy away from the realities of getting an education in the face of terror in the toilets and pills in the playground.
After just a few episodes Yizo Yizo’s arch-antagonist – the chiskop thug Papa Action – had become a household symbol of evil. Needless to say he also became something of an icon for criminal delinquents. Reports began to filter through of teen gangs called the Yizo Yizos.
Not since Shaka Zulu was shown on German TV and inspired a pack of neo-Nazis to name themselves The Zulus had a gang been reported to name themselves after a SABC product. (And for that we should be grateful. Imagine a gang called The Simunyes – over-built white dudes in tight shirts with bushy-tailed black babes on their arms brutally attacking unsuspecting civilians with crap ad lib.)
Meanwhile, five years into the South African music revolution and it seemed like a lot of whiteys still thought kwaito was a brand of washing powder. (Cosmo Man offered its readers the phonetic translation “Quite-O” to help bring them into the Nineties before the world ends. I’m sure they must be the same people that call it “Quate-O” and say it all sounds the same.)
In truth, 1999 saw kwaito and d’gong still waiting to crack the international market while receiving a drubbing from the emergence of house music in the mainstream.
Yet it was also a year in which music’s new school consolidated its star system, notched up record sales and finally liberated its pop tunes, letting through some fine R&B (E’Smile and Ashaan) and hip- hop (Mizchif, Amu and Spex blew up with solo releases).
If 1999 ended in critical triumph and news of a major American gig for Bongo Muffin, then the beginning of the year belonged to TKZee.
The bulk in between, of course, was all about Brenda Fassie’s Memeza, which sold an unprecedented 500 000 units in a few months. Ma Brr had whipped up the biggest sales of a single album in the history of contemporary African music. She also won herself a couple of Samas, a Kora and a dodgy fianc before releasing another album and dumping the fianc.
TKZee’s debut full-length CD, Halloween, sold more than 170 000 copies and blanketed the airwaves. Their formula for musical success doesn’t seem to have worked as nicely on their personalities, though. At the Sama Awards at Sun City the group lifted four statues – and then sank in the estimation of thousands of their fans when band member Tokollo publicly decked his date at the awards dinner. Facing charges, he hastily published an apology in a Sunday newspaper.
The story was once again broken by a website called Rage – www.rage.co.za #- the country’s first online publication dedicated to taking kwaito and South African street culture to the rest of the world. Produced by Black Rage and edited by Maria McCloy, Rage built up considerable hits and steady respect this year, profiling the players as they emerged and telling it like it is. Here you could get the juice the rest of the arts media missed.
Like the shocker that rising singer Andile spent a chunk of her year in hospital after a jealous backing singer used muti to try and remove her from the spotlight. Like a visit to Durban by British R&B star Des’Ree to shoot a music video with Ladysmith Black Mambazo. (The local group got to number two on the British charts and also recorded a hit track and video with Dolly Parton.)
Here you could find out what car Mandoza drives and who Lebo is really involved with. You could get fashion views – “Was that Dingaan Thobela and was he really wearing a purple leather suit?”, and music reviews -“Damn, but does Queen sound bad on that new album”, and even concert previews – “What’s up with Dr Victor being Janet Jackson’s support act? Last I heard he was doing cover versions in a hotel in Brunei.”
Although 1999 was the year of the schlock jock – Mark Gilman on 5fm; Jeremy Mansfield on Highveld; Phat Joe on Yfm – it was also the year that mainstream national radio kept an eye firmly on the new regional stations.
Gauteng’s Yfm rocked the media boat when it registered a daily listenership of more than a million people. The station that sent the press Molotov Cocktail invites for its launch celebrated its second birthday in classic South African style. It flew in the world’s most influential DJ, Little Louis Vega, to rock Nasrec with Latino- flavoured and Third World-styled tunes. But promoter Peter White couldn’t control the masses. Bewildered kids on drugs had to flee the dance floor for 10 minutes after teargas leaked inside the venue.
Yfm also had a hand in launching Ya Rona FM in Botswana, and in launching Y – the only significant new magazine of the year. (The most South African thing about some of the locally-produced international titles to arrive on the racks was that FHM featured a gaggle of local babes in its pull-out calendar.)
Still, aside from the pin-ups and the ever- growing gaggle of beauty queen celebs, 1999 was the year that girl power truly settled into the local market. It was women who brought respite from a culture year so violent that the only visual art story of note was when a group of artists got together on Heritage Day and aesthetically defaced the country’s public sculptures.
It was the same around the world. Endorsing a whole different set of values, the globe bought 17-million copies of The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, and chose pretty over Puffy when they put Celine Dion at the top of the charts.
In South Africa Charlize Theron’s rape ad hit the market where it hurts most, and new power babes like Ghetto Luv took Aids in hand with the Love Life campaign. It took a gaggle of determined lesbians to launch South Africa’s first-ever gay pop anthem.
And the old school legacy of Brenda Fassie finally showed the industry what its babes are worth. Arguably the two most significant of local culture’s new stars were women with something to say – Boom Shaka’s Lebo and Bongo Maffin’s Thandiswa. Both are rumoured to be considering solo albums, so 2000 could well be the year the girls take over the role model side of things and cancel out some of the testosterone that fuels the country’s culture.