It's a peculiar time; the end of your reproductive years. You've lived at least half of your life (probably). The first part of your life was spent learning, growing and stuffing enough knowledge into your head to survive. The second part was about earning money, working and building a nest. The third and longest was about children and then there is no instruction manual. What next? You look round at people your age and older, desperate for role models. "Who do I want to be like?" you ask yourself. Our society is set up to sneer at all older people, except David Attenborough, obviously because he is like a God but we can't all be David. I don't travel well, am not that keen on the smell of animals and don't like the cold.
"Do you ever feel that our lives are just passing us by," the LSH asked. I could hear my heart in my ears, sweat beading on my forehead. Was it a coincidental menopausal hot flush or was anxiety setting in, anticipating him suggest we take up bungee jumping or sky-diving? That's what happens to a lot of people our age: they are all suddenly running marathons or throwing themselves off tall buildings for charity. I want to shout, "What about your knees?" but I can see the appeal of feeling useful. The other group are buying villas in Spain and planning a long life of nothing but sun and wine (actually sometimes they're the same people). I don't drink wine and have no desire to learn Spanish or be an ex-pat.
"We just need to get out more," he said, "Especially you. I worry that if I suddenly drop down dead on the golf course, you'll be on your own."
"But I'll have my books," I interrupted.
"Hmm, yes books, but you'll not talk to anyone. You'll only leave the house to go to work and walk the dog. And if the dog dies, you'll probably get cats and when you drop down dead no one would know and when they break in because of the smell they'd find that the cats had eaten half your face off."
Gulp.
So we went out.
Not far.
And I had a secret book in my handbag, just in case.
We went to a gig. Real, live music with real jobbing musicians, who are making music because it's their passion, not because a record company (are they still called that?), a TV show, or Simon Cowell tells them to. Obviously, they still want to make a living - everyone needs to eat but the music comes first.
It's easy to think that unless something is in London or on the TV it's not worth seeing but that couldn't be further from the truth. Live music is so important. It's important enough for the government to have put on the music curriculum for children under seven.
How most schools are supposed to get access to a range of good quality live music has baffled me for a long time. You would think that with this addition to the curriculum there would be a budget to pay musicians to come and play or to take children to concerts but if anything the budget seems to have been cut. A friend of mine persuaded the local music hub to start a project where she and a group of other musicians went to schools, played some music and allowed the children to try out some of the instruments. It was a popular thing and then the budget was cut further, the music hub started to charge schools £100 per visit and because a primary school music budget is about 50p the scheme ended. (Whoops, sorry, I got sidetracked on a rant.)
So, anyway, live music. It's important but even grown ups with lots of money aren't listening with concentration and understanding to a range of high-quality live music. I know all the excuses: it's too expensive, all the best gigs are in London, which is just too far, don't like classical music, why bother when you don't even listen to the piped music in the lift, it's easier to just stick on Spotify or Amazon music, who needs music when there's X-factor?
Luckily, there are still people promoting high quality live music and I know some of them. I've known the folk from macTheatre since our children were first in primary school. I had just been involved in a PTA fund raising panto (I say involved but somehow managed to write, direct and act in the thing, which is amazing as I don't have any of those skills) and this lady came up to tell me how good she thought it was.Embarrassed, I gabbled on about how she should join us next year and how of course she would be able to do it because if I can then anyone can. She was polite and smiled and surprisingly kept talking to me. A week later, I wished the ground would open up and swallow me, as it turned out she was a professional card carrying actress. Although we became friends I still cringe at the memory every time I see her.
One thing I know about musicians is that they often go to drama school and so macTheatre have many contacts, especially as Barrie spent some of his early career dabbling (his word, not mine) in folk bands and last night they were promoting a concert by Charlie Dore and Julian Littman.
I wasn't sure about going. Folk isn't my favourite genre of music. I knew that Julian Littman is a member of Steeleye Span and I bear a grudge, as they have made teaching the proper Latin pronunciation of Gaudete quite tricky. Some child will always find their version and announce that you don't pronounce it veer-gin-ay after all. I needn't have worried, though because good quality live music is always brilliant, even if you'd rather be listening to a Mozart Aria, a scat singing jazz artist, or a thrash metal band.
Julian and Charlie are quite a team. Their voices blend beautifully together and both have such an effortless pure tone, which is amazing for people who have been singing professionally for nearly 40 years. As the concert progressed I realised what a treat we were being given. To hear a live performance by artists who have been writing songs, not only for themselves but for others, such as Celine Dion, Paul Carrack and Jimmy Nail is very special. When they sang Ain't No doubt we were in no doubt about their brilliance. Charlie is not only a very beautiful woman but she is funny. Her latest songs have been inspired by reading her partner's New Scientist magazine, which she doesn't really understand. She explained that Pheromones were there to help us find a partner who could be a kidney donor and neutrinos were just particles, like breakfast cereal, passing through space looking for love. Then she floors you with a heart of butter and the language takes you to another place. This is all delivered with humility so that when they are about to perform Pilot of the Airwaves they just say, "You'll know this."
Although it took some effort to go out but I think I will do it again. The LSH has agreed that live music might be the way to go to stop our lives passing us by.
Excellent blog. Do more music - you'll love it! :)
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