name that tune.....

another quiet week in worthing following my birthday celebrations. i think i survived. nice family meal (both nice, the family and the meal) and onwards for some musical diversion. knowing that i like the odd bit of music (yes, very odd sometimes) my family got me an ipod with the capacity to put a man on the moon - undoubtedly more than enough to hold my eclectic collection. anyway it got me thinking about what music has meant to me over the years. why do i like certain types of music? some people go for technical ability, or the words, or the mood or simply the moment. it’s not about “genre” whatever that means. surely you just listen to music you like but maybe that’s my defensive response to being defined as a country fan. i confess to liking some country music but i defy anyone to sit through a steve earl or wilco concert and not feel the walls shake. even allison krauss (an excellent though relatively refined bluegrass musician) has recently achieved acclaimed album success with an old led zepp stalwart. besides; how many rock legends pay homage to the influence of hank, gram and the man in black amongst others on their music? but where did my love of music start?

mid 50s: my sister olga and brother john loved music and sang in local halls. i remember and could still sing ‘singing the blues’ by guy mitchell, ‘last train to san fernando’ by johnny duncan, “rock island line” by lead belly (later lonnie donegan). and then there was ruby murray (remembered for the wrong reason today); who remembers wink martindale’s ‘deck of cards’ or ‘who’s sorry now’ by connie francis. frankly i’m surprised at the tunes and lyrics that are flooding my brain as i sit here, late at night, in front of blank screen with a mind that can’t remember what it had for dinner. must move on quickly or this could be the longest blog in history….

the 60s: we all remember, or know of, the music of the era. beatles, stones, dave clarke, manfred mann, marmalade..... the list goes on and on. but the music that is etched in to my psyche belongs to the mamas and papas, simon and garfunkle and in my college years, leonard cohen - a much maligned writer. a rare poet with a wry sense of humour. if you cut your wrists to his songs you missed the point! i didn’t go to much live music in those days – there wasn’t too much to go to in norn iron but i did get to see taste with a young rory gallagher, nina simone, woody herman and his herd - still remember that gig vividly although we didn’t use the word “gig” then. what does it mean literally? the best brass and woodwind musicians i have ever heard! even went to see our cilla, englebert and herman’s hermits live. englebert kindly did requests and someone in omagh asked for “the cow with the crumpled horn”. sadly , he didn’t do it.

just realised how long this blog could be. it could become a serial to run through the 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s to include neil young ...ryan adams.....dylan....van....nanci griffith....emmylou....kristofferson.....morrissey....elvis costello....cowboy junkies....iris dement....gary moore....john prine....moody blues....joan baez....jeff finlin....roger mcguinn...bob woodruff....suzy bogus...billy bragg...thea gilmore....tom russell....jason downes....bruce springsteen....brian wilson....chip taylor...josh ritter....richard thompson and many many more. who? i hear you ask. you don’t know my favourites any more than i know yours but that’s the joy of music. it’s what you like and when and where you liked it – loud, quiet, meaningful, subversive or simply nonsense. it doesn't matter.

finally leo - keep singing the blues. it still works for me. we’ll get our free bus pass together.

you are old, father william, the young man said……….

another quiet week in worthing so time to reflect –

what is “old”? can you see, feel, smell, taste or touch it? i hit 60 tomorrow and i still don’t know. is it in the body, the mind or the soul?

is it simply the perception of others or is it within me? when my dad was 60 i was 11. that seemed old then but he was a survivor and he hung around long enough to become my best friend. my mother too. neil young said it best “once an angel, always an angel. you’re as close to heaven as i will ever be”. whatever the family crisis, she simply said “och”. there is no word in the dictionary to adequately describe the calm that expression conveyed. it came straight from the heart, nowhere else, and said everything we needed to hear; sympathy, remorse, pain, rebuke….. but that doesn’t answer my question. am i old?

my body has seldom been good. rugby, athletics, cricket, football, volleyball…. all quite useful in my youth with awards to confirm a modest prowess. once scored a try at ravenhill and trod the same hallowed turf as the great mike gibson, the all blacks, the springboks and even my brother roy who did so in a much more distinguished way. played rugby in dublin on the day they blew up nelson’s column. shook hands with nick faldo, chris eubank, terry neil, lawrie sanchez, sven and nancy amongst others and watched the hurricane play snooker in a dingy hall in belfast before he blew out the lights all over the uk. transient!

my mind has never grown old. i still see myself the way i was and sometimes the way i would like to be. but what of others? mary was, is and will always be the best person i ever met. david, tony and iain give me equal pride and reason to go on. remarkably, i still have some good friends who walk with me, talk to me and tolerate my ramblings.

what of the soul? inherent guilt! an old prayer too often rattles round my brain “i have done those things i ought not to have done and left undone those things i ought to have done…...” true: but i really hope i have not hurt anybody along the way.

hey, ho. still time to put things right. lots to do. normal service resumed tomorrow….