PSL 4: An opening ceremony more absurd than Lahore Qalandars’ game

It was like a retired bureaucrat or army officer had selected the performances for the night

KARACHI: For a moment nothing happened and then, nothing continued to happen.

This isn’t a cryptic line from a Douglas Adams book but a rather heartfelt tribute to all those who gave away their soul in the line of fire...works. Kudos to all the artists, ‘stars’, grips, gaffers and security officials who tried to put their best foot forward but thing’s didn’t move a yard. They tried. But then, so did Samit Patil in the match that followed. And the rest is just sheer pain and agony.

PHOTO COURTESY: PSL

The opening ceremony of PSL 4 made me believe in the pain of the owner of the Lahore Qalandars. You had every possible star from the galaxy, yet it all got sucked into a strange black hole comprising an absurd lineup, strange song choices and moments that didn’t stay.

Match Summary of #LQvIU pic.twitter.com/jguUJADsdu

— Kanza Sohail (@KanzaSohail98) February 14, 2019

The nothingness started with a brass band marching into the arena playing Final Countdown. But the song that has, over the decades, been associated with a countdown, gave the impression that there will be an actual countdown to a grand opening. But like I said, nothing continued to happen.



In fact, the most insanely hilarious thing were the three dhol players who were randomly hanging around in their dhotis – clearly there to get some ‘air’ and airtime, nothing else. Strange how we have to push in a dhol player clad in a dhoti to save things from looking too gora.



Then, from God knows what dimension, came Boney M. Yes, Boney M - the band you were all made to listen to in school and now can’t keep from messing with your darkest fears and dearest hopes. Watching the four band members on stage was a major moment of disbelief. I mean, who would have imagined seeing Boney M back in action on the PSL opening ceremony being hosted by Rambo Raja? That’s just irony hitting itself out of the ground and returning as Rana Naveedul Hasan who is now a half-decent middle order batsman. Sigh.

Soon came the uber-talented Aima Baig, lip synching and dancing to Nazia Hasan classics. Although our singers don’t come from a performative tradition, where you are groomed to speak, move, talk and dance like it is second nature, Aima was still very good for the brief time she spent on stage. But then the poor soul Shuja Haider was pushed to join her and made us realise just how important the performative tradition really is.

PHOTO:FILE

By now, I had figured out why nothing was happening. Either the entire PSL had, for some atrociously strange reason, a disco theme to it or it is a part of a ‘big idea’ that some creative head in corporate office thought would reveal itself on screen.  I could also picture an ex-army officer or a bureaucrat handing over his 70s/80s mixtape and telling the organisers, “This is your sound for 2019.” Your pick is as good as mine!

PHOTO:FILE

We were also treated to a performance by the newly-reunited Junoon, which started the show with their song Yaar Bina. By this time, people had realised Pitbull isn’t actually coming to PSL and his video was not a publicity stunt.

This wasn’t a live performance so Junoon tried their best to lift a crowd that was there to watch Shahid Afridi and AB Divilliers. Both Salman Ahmad and Ali Azmat randomly started running on stage in different directions. But the former was shaking his head, playing the guitar and running for something that seemed much more urgent than Tabdeeli. I mean really, really urgent.

PHOTO:FILE

The show closed with Fawad Khan’s jumping jacks. In a zipped upper and trousers, he jumped around and completed a full workout routine, while Rambo Raja made space for the speech by the boy who is allowed in the neighborhood cricket team just because he owns the bat and wickets.

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