Music has always been A Thing for me, and A Good Thing at that. I blame my family, specifically my aunt, a talented opera singer whose passion for practicing the scales, according to family rumour, once raised the eyebrow of the local constabulary, to whom concerns about the volume of an orgy had been reported. Subsequent to my aunt’s warbling, and under the influence of my parents’ love of music (Dad’s first gig Creedance Clearwater Revival; Mum’s favourite album Neil Young’s Harvest) I was fortunate to be imbued with pretty good taste (I think!) from an early age. I hit my first proper gig aged 11 (Dire Straits, Woburn Abbey since you ask), and haven’t really looked back since. There’s some awe & magnificence of live music that gets me.... right there *points*.
Now since going freelance in my career over the last 12 months, there have been several aspects of life that have changed of late, the vast majority very much for the better, however one for the worse…. that of less music. Yes, I’ll always have the joys of Lauren Laverne & BBC 6 Music to accompany me on my journey outside the 9-5, and of course my own music collection which frequently sees me chair dancing on the buses of north London. However my gig attendance has lessened and this saddens me.
You see there is something about live music that is infinitely powerful, magical and brilliant. Yes, shit bands are shit bands (albeit subjectively judged), but usually even with the shittest of bands there is something to admire, only if it is only the sheer ballsyness of getting up on stage to perform. I’ll never understand it when people say they ‘don’t like music’. Yes friends, some people DO say that! One poor chap had the misfortune to utter those very words while out on an internet date with me. Never have I remembered I had left the oven on so quickly. And I’m no muso, don’t get me wrong, I have friends with a far wider, broader and more encyclopedic interests in music than myself, and it is two of them that I thank here, for I recently accompanied them to a gig and boy was it special.
The gig itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, hyped or even particularly ‘big’ in many respects. It was great music, don't get me wrong, I loved it. But what was so extra special to me was the fact of being there, being back at a gig having been out of the habit so much recently. That feeling of awe came back to me. That peeking above the heads of the crowd who had arrived much earlier than we, to see someone display their heart and soul on stage. That absolute bloody jealousy of a talent I have not. That oneness of a crowd of people, being together for one good thing, that very brilliant thing of seeing a group of talented musicians perform. I must admit, I did shed a tear, occasional sap that I am, (sap imbued with 2 large gins I must admit). But gin or no gin, the gig was ace and treasured and wonderful.
So hurray. Hurray for live music, hurray for the bravery of musicians, and hurray for my mates who took me to a gig for the first time in 7 months. My thanks to you King Creosote who made my night so special, and especial thanks to my mates Lou & Gareth. I owe you one, next time the gins are on me…
Now since going freelance in my career over the last 12 months, there have been several aspects of life that have changed of late, the vast majority very much for the better, however one for the worse…. that of less music. Yes, I’ll always have the joys of Lauren Laverne & BBC 6 Music to accompany me on my journey outside the 9-5, and of course my own music collection which frequently sees me chair dancing on the buses of north London. However my gig attendance has lessened and this saddens me.
You see there is something about live music that is infinitely powerful, magical and brilliant. Yes, shit bands are shit bands (albeit subjectively judged), but usually even with the shittest of bands there is something to admire, only if it is only the sheer ballsyness of getting up on stage to perform. I’ll never understand it when people say they ‘don’t like music’. Yes friends, some people DO say that! One poor chap had the misfortune to utter those very words while out on an internet date with me. Never have I remembered I had left the oven on so quickly. And I’m no muso, don’t get me wrong, I have friends with a far wider, broader and more encyclopedic interests in music than myself, and it is two of them that I thank here, for I recently accompanied them to a gig and boy was it special.
The gig itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, hyped or even particularly ‘big’ in many respects. It was great music, don't get me wrong, I loved it. But what was so extra special to me was the fact of being there, being back at a gig having been out of the habit so much recently. That feeling of awe came back to me. That peeking above the heads of the crowd who had arrived much earlier than we, to see someone display their heart and soul on stage. That absolute bloody jealousy of a talent I have not. That oneness of a crowd of people, being together for one good thing, that very brilliant thing of seeing a group of talented musicians perform. I must admit, I did shed a tear, occasional sap that I am, (sap imbued with 2 large gins I must admit). But gin or no gin, the gig was ace and treasured and wonderful.
So hurray. Hurray for live music, hurray for the bravery of musicians, and hurray for my mates who took me to a gig for the first time in 7 months. My thanks to you King Creosote who made my night so special, and especial thanks to my mates Lou & Gareth. I owe you one, next time the gins are on me…
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| Gin and creosote... Shaken and stirred |
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