Well hello. How are we all? Fine of fettle I hope. I've been reading all your blog posts avidly. Last week was full of fun. And meeting new friends And hanging out on the beach. And baking. And garden tidying. And falling foul of a bug that required a lot of trips to the smallest room. With the water cut off.
I'm feeling old. I won't lie to you. Thirty years ago today, Duran Duran released 'Wild Boys' I bought the 7" and the 12" singles. I still have them up in the loft. I was rather a fan. Actually I attribute failing my Maths O Level to my obsessive conversations about them at the back of the class, with Kerina Balchin . For about four years, they were my whole world.
|Me, Ben & Jane in 1985. In my Nick Rhodes jacket.|
And then I discovered Rap. And James Brown and the R&B and Funk inspired clubs of late 80s Bristol. I discarded Duran Duran to a cardboard box and I moved on, hanging out at Manfred's decks at The Moon Club. He let me, because he fancied my friend Catherine. Those days everyone fancied my friend Catherine.
And then I discovered Madchester. I played my Stone Roses and Happy Mondays albums relentlessly. I kind of fell in love with a lad in massive flares and a The Las tour t shirt. He dumped me, but I kept the shirt. I'd wear it to bed and cry myself to sleep, listening to I Am The Ressurection and thinking about learning to play the guitar. I didn't get round to it though.
And then I went to see Paul Weller live. I had seen The Style Council live. I was too young to see The Jam. But my love for him was re-kindled and it has never died. I watched him play at V97 with Ocean Colour Scene supporting and Noel Gallagher screaming at us to bow down to his genius. And I did.
And let's not forget my mania for the female vocalist. From Kate Bush to Madonna. Arethra Franklin to Nena Cherry. I adored them all
Last week I was cooking tea, and Olly asked me to put the radio on. As if by magic 'A Town Called Malice' blared out of the speaker. I jumped around the kitchen. I was euphoric by the end. And a little out of breath it has to be said. Later I realised that Olly had taken a lot of one and two second videos of me on my phone. There I am, completely caught up in the music, dancing and singing at the top of my voice!
I'm not sure what I'm trying to say here, other than I miss my music. For so long I have craved peace and quiet, and so I rarely listen to it anymore. And I loved my music growing up. I bought my first record in 1978. It was Rat Trap by The Boomtown Rats. I saved up all my pocket money for months to buy the first Duran Duran album. I had the second one for my twelfth birthday. Any spare money I had went on records. I used to go and hang out in Rival Records at my local shopping centre, flipping through the albums and savouring the smell of the shop. I have an almost encylopedic knowledge of music from the sixties up until about the time that Alfie was born. Go on test me. I always win pop quizzes.
Then I kind of stopped listening. I sometimes heard. But my ears were tired of the noise of babies, their toys, the news, constant chatter, the fuzzy head. I'd had enough. From then on it was silence I craved. I got used to and comfortable with silence. I was very good at holding silence in the counselling room. I liked it's cocooning warmth. And how you were allowed to just be.
I have decided to turn my Radio from 4 to 6. Maybe I shall buy a turntable and get those records out of the loft. Perhaps I turn the volume up, wind down the window of the car, and let the music play.
It's not about filling the silence.
It's about embracing the noise.
And maybe not feeling so old.