Music, with a little help from the kids
It’s funny how suddenly hearing an old song can transport us to a different time and place. A bit like childhood smells but we won’t explore that thought any further. And how our appreciation of music develops and changes. I was going to say, “matures” but let’s face it, some of us haven’t. I can clearly remember my music choices being almost exclusively the popular choice of the day – the Neil Diamond record was carefully hidden at the back of the cupboard (even today I wouldn’t easily admit to listening to him) – but then there are Michael Bolton fans ….
I can vividly remember driving around Austria, young and slim (who says alcohol is fattening?), with several beaus of varying potential awaiting my call (it’s true I tell you) and listening to “Antenna Steiermark” (radio station) who had a summer of non-stop rock’n'roll and catchy, upbeat music. The window rolled down, on my way paragliding. Let me tell you that there is a marked difference between running down a slope, and jumping off something – a bridge for instance, or swimming or meeting someone for coffee. I had all the time in the world.
These days I find myself listening to really crap music because the lyrics are sublime. And also listening to really beautiful music but having no clue what that chap Eros Ramazotti is singing about. The name says it all, Italian crooner, good-looking, macho … yes I have spent some time studying the CD cover.
I dance to DSTV’s contemporary music channel with the kids. Sometimes we pretend we’re a band. We use tennis racquets for guitars, a hairbrush for a microphone and multi-coloured wigs and if dad is lucky we force him to sit through a show. Unrehearsed because we can’t decide on the music in advance, so inevitably no one knows the words. It must be a bit painful to be on the receiving end.
Come to think of it he never sits through more than 3 songs so I don’t feel too bad.