Don’t waste the chance to tell people you love them

As usual, soundcheck was late.

We had said “aim for 5pm”, but by the time we were done it was 8pm, and showtime loomed.

Then, we split up. Lori the guitarist decided to head home and drop off his car. Rogan the bass player went for a quick dinner with his girlfriend. Darkness Dave and I just lurked around the venue.

That venue was the notorious Smoking Kills dive bar in 4^th Avenue Melville, scene of many crimes, winner of SA Bar of the Year titles and often the most entertaining night out in Joburg, if you have a particular unpretentious, rock n roll-meets-dance-music inclination.

And tonight, our shambolic four-piece Afro-rock outfit, The Feel So Strongs, have precisely such an inclination. We’re playing Smoking Kills, the coolest bar in town. It’s something we have been looking forward to for more than a year, an evening postponed a couple of times because of you know what. But tonight is the night.

As punters trickle in, we resist the hints from the staff that we should probably start the show. Starting is a delicate dance. You want to leave it as late as possible, without waiting so long that people start leaving!

In the end, we run out of excuses. Lori returns from tucking in his kids, Rogan emerges from the restaurant down the road, friends and family are in the house, and it’s time!

The recorded music stops, I fiddle around on the fretboard, finding the intro to our opening song, and we’re off. What follows is one of our most exciting evenings on stage, ever!

There is applause, dancing, cheers! Photos and videos are taken! An intelligent-looking woman is seen thoughtfully paying attention to the lyrics. We remember our cues and perform as admirably as we ever have. The stage looks shabbily amazing, in keeping with the venue’s lurid romance. Everyone emerges with their reputation enhanced – from the guitarists to the DJs who follow us, to the barmen to Peter Good the owner, a firm contender for coolest man in Joburg.

Flushed with post-show adrenaline, I leave the bar, for a sneaky couple of beers up the road at Xai Xai, another Joburg icon. With my friend Belinda, I pound down a couple of super-fast Black Labels, leave, then immediately return because I’ve lost my wallet.

In tune with the magical tone of the evening, my wallet is not really lost. The staff have found it where it fell, from my low-cut pockets, and kept it for me in the restaurant safe. I recover that leather weapon of adventure and exploit, and return to base at Smoking Kills, where the crowd has dissipated to the point where you can reach the bar and order a drink again.

I locate my bandmates, and we order those drinks.

The remainder of the blurry, glorious evening is spent in the style of four old friends who don’t get enough chances to share drinks, or say how much they love each other.

I put my precious wallet through its paces, and say it to those people one more time. Who knows when we’ll get to do it again. The chance to tell people you love them is a precious opportunity; we should not waste it!