BY KATLEGO RAMMUSA:
There is something deeply painful about walking into an awards ceremony that was once the pride of the North West and seeing empty seats staring back at the stage.
The South African Music Awards (SAMA’s) returned to the North West for a homecoming edition, but instead of witnessing the electricity, glamour and excitement that once defined the ceremony, what stood out was the absence of people.
Empty seats. Missing nominees. Missing winners.
And, perhaps most painfully, an audience that seemed unaware that the biggest music awards ceremony in the country was even happening. That should worry everyone.
A week before the SAMAs, a friend called me and casually told me that he did not even know the awards were taking place. I initially thought he was an exception. Then I started looking at social media comments and discovered that many people were asking the same question: “When are the SAMAs happening?” That is not an audience problem. That is a marketing problem.
I even joked on Facebook that perhaps the SAMAs should appoint me as their head of PR and marketing next year. But beneath the joke is a serious question: Where was the PR and marketing machine?
I am Rustenburg-born and bred. I understand this city. I understand its people, its entertainment culture and what gets them excited. You cannot simply announce an event- or barely announce it- and expect thousands of people to magically appear.
Crowds don’t happen by accident. They are built.
An award ceremony of the stature of the SAMAs requires a serious communications strategy, aggressive marketing, community engagement, media partnerships, social media campaigns, radio activations, influencer campaigns and a compelling reason for people to buy tickets.
Was there a proper PR and marketing budget? Was there a dedicated organising team? Or did the organisers simply assume that because it was the SAMAs, people would automatically come? If that was the strategy, it failed. And let me be clear: this was not Cassper Nyovest’s fault. The host did his job. In fact, Cassper reminded us why he remains one of the most powerful brands to come out of Rustenburg.
Watching our homeboy take that stage, perform three of his tracks and command the room demonstrated the power of a strong personal brand. And when he ended by saying “Motswako Forever”, there was something symbolic about it.
For those of us who have followed his journey, that moment felt significant. It felt like a homecoming beyond the SAMAs. It felt like a statement. It felt like healing. Motswako was back home. But even a superstar cannot carry an entire awards ceremony on his shoulders. Maybe the organisers thought Tyla would pull the crowds. Perhaps they believed the star power of a few big names would be enough. It isn’t.
Stars attract attention. Marketing converts attention into attendance.
And this is where the SAMAs need to take a hard look at themselves. There was a time when people knew exactly when the SAMAs were happening. There was a rhythm to the awards. There was consistency. There was anticipation.
Then things changed. Since MTN’s exit as the main sponsor, the awards have struggled with consistency in dates and months. One year the ceremony happens in one period; another year, somewhere else. The venue changes. The identity becomes blurred.
People need consistency.
Imagine if Christmas moved around every year. Imagine if the World Cup suddenly changed its traditional cycle without explanation. Eventually, people would stop knowing what to expect.
The same applies to the SAMAs.
Give us a month. Give us a home. Give us something we can remember. For me, that home should be Sun City. Keep the SAMAs in the North West. Make Sun City the permanent home. Build an annual tradition around it. Make it part of the country’s entertainment calendar.
And while we are at it, organisers need to look beyond the red carpet and ask themselves a difficult question:
Are we still producing the best awards show we possibly can?
I have previously said that SAMA organisers should be taken to America to observe events such as the BET Awards – not to copy them, but to learn from their level of preparation, production and discipline.
The difference is preparation.
Major international productions rehearse. They plan. They communicate. They test. They prepare their artists well in advance.
I was genuinely shocked when one of the artists I manage received a call from RISA on a Thursday telling him that he needed to be at Sun City at 2 pm for rehearsals. Thursday? 2 pm? For a major national awards ceremony? That is not how a world-class production should operate.
Proper communication should happen well in advance. Artists should receive schedules, rehearsal times, technical requirements and production information long before the week of the event.
We cannot demand excellence from artists while giving them mediocre preparation. And perhaps the SAMAs also need to reconsider the relationship between nominees and the ceremony itself.
If artists enter the competition, there should be clear contractual obligations regarding attendance. If you are nominated, you should understand that the awards ceremony is part of the commitment. There must be consequences for unexplained non-attendance, particularly for winners who are expected to be present to receive national recognition.
Because what is the point of announcing a winner to an empty seat? That is not glamour. That is an embarrassing picture of an industry losing its connection with its audience.
The SAMAs are bigger than one ceremony. They are part of South African music history. They represent generations of artists, producers, composers and music lovers. That is precisely why the empty seats hurt. We should not normalise them. We should not pretend everything is fine.
And we certainly should not blame the audience for not showing up when the event itself failed to make enough noise. The SAMAs need to market themselves again. They need to build anticipation again. They need to create an experience again. Most importantly, they need to remember that people do not attend events simply because organisers believe they should. People attend when you give them a reason to care. Cassper gave us a moment. Rustenburg gave the SAMAs a homecoming. But the organisers needed to give the people a reason to fill those seats. Next year, I hope those empty chairs are gone. Because the SAMAs deserve better. And so does the North West. – @NewsSA_Online
Follow us on our social media platforms below: