Once a year the electronic matriarch of the Mother City casts her wing over the greater Cape Town community and forges a truly unique experience. The highest echelons of electronic music come together and create a musical symphony likened to Super Mario playing a Beethoven Concerto while getting a blowie from Ms Pacman. All the digital wizards that grace the stage have at one time or another held the throngs of CapeTonian ravers by the short and curly’s, grabbed them by the ear and sensually whispered “Do dance stuff, baby”. Now before I brand the collective performers as pornstars with keyboards, allow me to tell you one vital piece of information: There are reasons you shouldn’t go to CTEMF this year. Here is why.
The music will be loud. The sound won’t be measured by decibels, but rather on the Richter scale. The organisers have had to obtain written permission from Koeberg in order to avoid Fukushima style nuclear leakages, and the resultant Melkbostrand sea mutants who will push for a sokkie inspired fidget night at next year’s event. Chances are your ears will ring for days and you might not be in a position to effectively continue a successful career on the Monday, as flashbacks of thunderous bass and the dance moves that accompanied it, will remain through the week.
Most logical right minded folk have an inherent fear of heights. Plummeting to your demise from stories above ground is the thing of nightmares and dyslexic paragliders. This makes it even more incredulous that the sadists at Red Bull have erected the VIP Sky Deck. By simply wearing one of the CTEMF wristbands they may force you into the atmosphere, to watch the eons of party goers from above. All under the guise of “the perfect view” and “Strictly adhered safety regulations”.
Nobody likes excessive displays of wealth and austerity. Chances are you are one of the 99% who should rightfully be pelting old tomatoes at the heads of the uppercrust. With their botoxed faces, R3000 socks and chauffeur driven limos they are the envy of us regular 9-5 middle class. A serious problem has occurred for us proud soul-of-the-earth types however as Uber have decided to give away free credit if you sign up during the event. Which means that little touch of elegance that you admire in Paris Hilton, but still call her a slag behind her back, can now be yours. You elitist snob.
Who really likes techno anyway? Loud thumping kick drums of monotony, rolling percussion and twisted synths. Then there’s hip-hop which is not even real singing, and don’t even get me started on that dubstep/electro/ grime cross genre mess that sounds like you’re receiving a fax from inside a cement mixer. The fact that all the DJs and producers are masters of their art and have fine tuned and refined their talent over many years to create electronic music perfection is irrelevant. Give me Phil Collins on clarinet over this Dixon chap any day of the week.
So you see it really isn’t a good idea to go to CTEMF this year. I haven’t even spoken about the array of drink specials that might be easy on the wallet but hard on the head. Or the merchandise give-aways where you will receive branded gear, for free, in a hopeless attempt to keep me from full frontal nudity while head thrashing to Noisia’s set. Redbull and the CTEMF team have spent months in planning, meticulously outlining this celebration of Cape Town’s electronic prowess and unity among CapeTonians through a uniquely South African event. Bloody hippies with a mountain, the lot of them.
*Follow @Stroobz on Twitter as he tries to twerk to 175bpm Swedish FluteCore, and crowd surf at his nieces violin recital.