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Zoid Spawn and the one-life rule

I went to church to watch Karen Zoid sing French under Super Mario graphics and left with an existential crisis. Not quite what I had on the evening’s bingo card, but was I disappointed? Absolutely not.

Karen Zoid and Ben Francis during Zoid Spawn in Melkbosstrand. Background photo: Liz Thorne. Insert photo: Steph Venter.

The theatrical concert, Zoid Psalm, had Karen Zoid, electric guitar and a church organ all sharing one roof, which was already a fairly unusual way to spend an evening in the best possible sense. Zoid Spawn, staged at the NG Kerk in Melkbosstrand, was nothing like it; it was more chilled, more personal and far more interested in letting you settle into your seat before casually smacking you with the reminder that, outside a video game, you get one life.

At its heart, the show is a conversation between Karen and her son Ben Francis, with Anton Eloff on piano and Ben’s visual art woven through the production. The Melkbosstrand High School Choir joined them as well, and inside a church there was really no chance those voices were going to pass unnoticed.

From left: Karen Zoid on stage during Zoid Spawn; Ben Francis during the performance. Photos: Steph Venter. Right: Clockwise from front, Ben Francis, Karen Zoid, Rhynie Greeff and Anton Eloff.

Having three generations on stage was one of my favourite parts. Karen, Ben and Karen’s father, Rhynie Greeff, together made the whole “one life” idea less like a clever concept and more like something standing right there in front of you. There was family, music, stories, jokes and the occasional chaos, all very normal human stuff, except with white stars splashed over a church ceiling, giant waves on screens and Super Mario lurking in the background.

I also discovered Karen could sing in French, although having the lyrics nearby certainly helped. It became a rather elegant form of semi-karaoke while her dad went full fluent French beside her like he had been waiting years for this exact opportunity to embarrass the younger generations.

Then there was the church itself. Church acoustics are borderline cheating. Voices hang in the room, the piano gets to be dramatic, and when a choir joins in, good luck pretending you are unaffected.

Ben’s gaming visuals made the message harder to dodge. In the classic Mario games, the Fire Flower gives Mario the power to throw fireballs, but it does not give him another life. Somewhere between the pixel art and the church pews, that started making an annoyingly large amount of sense. You get power-ups, people, music, memories and whatever helps you through the level, but you still only get one go.

Apparently I went to church to watch Karen Zoid sing French under Super Mario graphics and left with an existential crisis. Not quite what I had on the evening’s bingo card, but was I disappointed? Absolutely not.