Imagine being in debt for a festival ticket. That’s the reality now; we’re buying vibes on lay-by and financing joy like it’s a washing machine. This is the reality for many South Africans who’ve started financing not just essentials, but enjoyment. In Cape Town, with its skyline of rising costs and shrinking dreams, even a night of music comes with a payment plan.
“Jazz on Credit” is how a prominent South African online retailer is promoting its new Buy Now, Pay Later (BNPL) offer for the Cape Town International Jazz Festival, taking place this weekend (25–26 April 2025). One of the deals—pay 60% upfront and the rest in monthly instalments—opens the door for more people to attend, particularly those feeling the financial pinch. The festival itself remains a cornerstone of Cape Town’s cultural identity, a gathering that brings people together across boundaries. But with this new payment model, there’s an added layer to the experience: the music may end on Saturday, but the financial commitment lingers well beyond. While the intention is to widen access, it also raises important questions about the affordability of joy and the long-term impact of financing fleeting experiences.
The option itself isn’t surprising. Globally, BNPL has surged in popularity, especially among younger consumers. Afterpay has revolutionised consumer culture in the Global North; nearly 60% of Coachella-goers reportedly used payment plans for their 2025 tickets, according to GQ. South Africa’s fintech scene has followed suit. Whether it’s sneakers, smartphones, or now, saxophone solos, if you want it, you can swipe for it. Emotionally and financially.
But here’s where it gets complicated: music events in Cape Town aren’t just parties. They’re aspirations. For many, they’re a rare and cherished escape from the grind, an antidote to the anxiety of everyday life. Living in a city where the average house price hovers well above what most can afford, and where youth unemployment remains stubbornly high (sitting at 44.3% as of late 2024), the idea of owning property is more fantasy than future. So instead, we invest in fleeting moments of joy.
And honestly, who can blame us?
You can’t measure the value of music in rands and cents. That bassline that hits you in the chest, the shared nod with a stranger during a solo, the release of dancing in a crowd that just gets it, these are real forms of connection. In a city that often feels divided by class, race, and geography, music festivals offer a rare kind of unity.
But at what cost?
BNPL thrives because it feels harmless. It’s not a loan from a bank with an interest rate that sends shivers down your spine; it’s just a few hundred bucks next month, right? That is, until you realise you’re juggling multiple micro-debts for a lifestyle that no longer fits your income. And if we’re being real: if the bank declined your credit application, maybe your budget is trying to tell you something.
This isn’t about guilt-tripping anyone. We get it. At Let’s Get Local, we live for live music too. But there’s a wider systemic issue at play here. BNPL fills a gap created by an economy that’s failed its youth. Fun is being commodified because stability is unaffordable. We finance joy because long-term dreams feel so out of reach.
But even if the system is broken, we still have agency. And that’s where discernment comes in. Before opting into BNPL for your next event, ask yourself: Will the joy last longer than the debt? Will the Monday after still feel worth it when repayments are due?
Let’s be clear: this isn’t a blanket “no” to BNPL. For some, it’s a helpful tool. But when it becomes a crutch to keep up with social expectations or digital FOMO, it can trap you in a cycle of short-lived highs and long-term lows.
Cape Town’s music culture is vibrant, diverse, and full of life. But it shouldn’t require financial strain to access it. We need better solutions, community pricing tiers, more subsidised local gigs, or simply the normalisation of saying, “I can’t afford it this time.”
You don’t need to be in debt to belong.
This piece reflects the views of the author and is intended to spark dialogue around financial choices and social trends. It is not intended as financial advice.
