It was only as I was
sat here this morning drinking my second coffee of the day that I
realised just how large a part of my life music has become.
I've always loved
music, of course I have. I think it would be difficult to find
someone out there who doesn't love at least one type of music. I
have my favourite artists and they've changed over the years as I've
matured, but those lost as favourites will never be considered any
less important to the memories of my distant adolescence. It may not
have taken me long to realise that Jason Donovan's songs were bland
and lacking any emotion and soul, but hearing one of those terrible
songs now still transports me back to another world; my younger world
of new loves, nicking out of school at lunchtime to avoid school
dinners, first kisses, school exams and 2-for-a-penny Mojo's.
Anyone who knows me
well knows of my love of David Bowie. I first took him seriously
when I was 15 years old. I saw Labyrinth at a special repeat
screening at the cinema a couple of years after its release.
Admittedly my primary reasons for giving his older music a listen
were the tights and make-up, but something in his voice that day gave
me goosebumps and it had never happened before, and rarely since.
My first experience of
Bowie's real music (not the pop/mainstream stuff of the 80's) was
when I borrowed Aladdin Sane from someone for whom I used to work. I
felt honoured that I was allowed to take this beautiful vinyl album
home and listen. When I got home I went straight to my room, closed
the door, put the needle on that most wondrous spinning disc full of
promise, and when the music played I felt elated to have discovered
him. I even felt slightly nervous because, quite frankly, was I
supposed to like this? The disjointed, erratic but still melodious
style of piano that Mike Garson played was completely alien yet
absolutely right. To this day I hear the album and I'm back in my
old room, feeling excited and scared and ever so chuffed with myself
for finding this musical genius!
Since that day my mind
has been a lot more open to bands I've never heard of and to those
that peers and/or society told me I shouldn't like, whether it be
down to my age or my other musical tastes. Over the years I learned
to accept that in order to fully enjoy the music I choose I need to
stay true to myself. It meant that at the age of 33 I finally
admitted I love jazz, and now my iPod is full of Ella Fitzgerald,
Stacey Kent, Eartha Kitt, The Puppini Sisters, Caro Emerald, Louis
Armstrong, Slim Gaillard, all alongside such greats as Foo Fighters,
Dolly Parton, Jace Everett and Paloma Faith. My music taste is
eclectic, but it's mine and I make no apologies or excuses, and nor
would I expect you to explain your music tastes to me.
But things change. It
seems that music starts to lose its significance with us as adults to
some degree, and certainly for some more than others, and I had no
idea it had happened to me until recently.
For some people music
does remain an essential part of their lives, whether it's playing an
instrument or living each day with a soundtrack to their lives
running through their heads. Some of us don't seem able to walk five
minutes down the street without mp3's blasting straight into our
ears.
For me, however, music
had started to become a background noise. It was always there and
always heard, but I stopped really listening. Then I joined Stockton
Town Choir back in January and my focus shifted more significantly
that I realised. In fact it took six months for me to see its
significance and importance.
The background noise of
music was suddenly right there in front of me. It was surrounding
me, pulling me in, and I was suddenly being hugged by a huge warm and
comfy blanket of “welcome home”. I was comfortable and happy
from the first day, albeit I was a tentative singer for a while.
Now, though, it's a part of who I am and it's brought even more music
to my life than I ever thought possible.
The community that both
surrounds and is the choir is
phenomenal. I've made a lot of friends who would never have been
part of my life otherwise, and on top of that I've been introduced to
more and more music and it's returned the passion I'd previously
lost.
There
are musicians, bands, individuals and moments that I will never
forget...
The
enthusiasm, passion and drive of Mike McGrother who leads us into
fun, challenging performances in the unlikeliest of places.
The
goosebumps that so rarely happen when I listen to a singer returned
on our big rehearsal night for #smile at Stockton Riverside College.
Joe Hammill stood, one single voice in one large room full of people,
and he sang so hauntingly beautiful that I could only listen while a
lump formed in my throat. To this day I'm not sure how I remembered
to sing. Then the terror and joy of us all performing with him (and
others) on Stockton High Street!
The
introduction of new bands like Fake Major and Cattle & Cane, who
I knew instantly should already have sky-rocketed to fame and
fortune; those who lose themselves in their music and make you
forget, for a short while at least, that anything exists outside of
that moment, in that room, with those melodies and voices.
The
sheer joy of watching Infant Hercules (the male voice choir also led
my Mike McGrother) grow in solidarity, strength and harmony over
three months. Their performance at Saltburn Theatre with the
Wildcats of Kilkenny was perhaps beyond any expectations they even
had of themselves. It was powerful, beautifully so, but also carried
with it warmth and pride, and I can recall no finer performance from
those gutsy blokes!
I've been
mesmerised by the incredible musicianship of Gordie MacKeeman and his
Rhythm Boys. What they can do with a double bass, a couple of
guitars, a banjo and a fiddle is something very special. Add to that
the lively and highly accomplished level of tap/clog dancing and the
whole room was blown away.
I've had
inspiration thrust upon me by watching talented, enthusiastic
musicians play, to the point where I once again picked up my cello and
attempt to make some kind of acceptable noise that doesn't make dogs
bark and babies cry.
There
have been many, many moments of joy, goosebumps and feelings of
solidarity with both old and new friends, and old family members
(sorry dad!), but to list them would be to bore you rigid.
My
point for this post isn't that 'choir is great, everyone should try
it', because that would just be daft. It was and continues to be
right for me, and I'll keep going as long as I possibly can. My
point is about the music itself and what it can give you.
I
spent a lot of years taking very little notice of the music that
surrounded me, and because of that I lost some of the joy in my life.
Open up your ears and your minds, listen to bands you don't know
anything about, try music you never expect to enjoy, and all the
while listen... really, really listen...
Try
telling me that you don't have a song that instantly lifts your
spirits and makes you smile. I know somewhere in your collection
there's one that brings tears to your eyes despite you not knowing
why. There's a song there, too, that makes you feel comforted. And
don't forget the one that makes your adrenalin pump faster and harder
until your lead foot makes you speed down the motorway faster than
you know you should.
Music
is everywhere. We have so many songs on our players now that we can
barely choose what we want to play. When you do finally make a
choice don't forget to listen to it, enjoy it, appreciate it, and let
it speak to you, enrich your life and make your world even more
special.
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