More About Music

My Dad pretty much played the same. Nelson, Pride, Boxcar Willie, Jennings, Rogers, Wynette. And Yeah sometimes I hear a certain song which reminds me of happy childhood times. Mike, you may know this. There's a song by Boxcar, It goes 'I saw the light, I saw the light. No more darkness, No more fright(?), now I'm so happy, no sorrow (blank), praise the lord I saw the light.'

My Dad is atheist as is myself. But that was his favourite song. I don't know the name.

My brother Mikey majorly into Hendrix in a big way. He used to teach me guitar and could pretty much match note for note a few songs. We used to spend hours listening to Jimi, which is why I am such a huge fan. When my brother died, he left me the whole of his music collection, and his guitar. I have never played a string on it, but maybe now is the time,

My mum. She was born to a white woman who survived the war by signing up to the three main armed forces, who couldn't track her as to which one she should serve in. My Grandfather fought in the war in the merchant navy and his ship was targeted and blown up 3 times. My Grandfather was african. So, being brought up in a household that played Vera Lynn and African Mambata music, she decided to go the way of Motown. So I was lucky enough to grow up with such a diverse musical upbringing. I am an eclectic. Though my preference leans toward rock, such as Hendrix, etc. Mighty mouse, this is a long post and I apologise. But I had fun remembering. Its cool when you remember. And learn from others.

I was lucky enough to have a large family who were close, full of love. And music. Thanks Mike. Great entry.

Our house was full of skiffle. Couldn't move for the stuff. Chas McDevitt & Nancy Whiskey, Lonnie Donegan with their freight trains and chewing gum and tea chest bass. All sprinkled with the Stones and Big Bill Broonzy and Johnny Duncan & the Bluegrass Boys. And yes it does remind me of when I was 6 when I hear Lost John with added crackly bits played at 78rpm.

Nice entry, Mike.

I remember when I was about fifteen, I went into the loft at my parents house and pulled down some vinyl my Dad had stashed. I started going through them all. He had put them up because he had run out of room so mainly it was second rate fodder. But there was one record I felt sure shouldn't have been in there, it was clearly a mistake.

I looked at the cover, a blue sky background and in the foreground, a shiny strangely shaped tube, forming almost a heart shape. Mike Oldfield, Tubular Bells, it said.

Before the internet, I can remember the joy in finding a tune I had been searching for years. You would hear it on the radio and never catch the artist. Then spend years humming it, not knowing it well enough to give a potentially embaressing rendition to someone, but inwardly practicing to remind yourself that this great tune should never leave you, that one day you will find it.

The strange thing about putting side one of Tubular Bells on that day was that as it played, it wasn't a song I had been consciously searching for, it was one that was in me, subconciously. Almost as though it had always been in me but never heard. It was the strangest feeling. I couldn't stop playing it, marvelling at its complex themes.

When my father heard me playing it, he said "wow, Tubular Bells, not played that for a while, where did you get that, son?" I replied "it was in the loft. Why did you keep it in there? It's a masterpiece". He said that it was a mistake and that it should never have gone in there, but he had forgotten all about it. More interesting though was that he said he bought it when it came out and didn't stop playing it. My mum recounted how he seemed to play it non-stop for about a year, finally tiring of it through overplay. It was only then, noting it was released in 1973 did I realise that I had subconciously taken this song on board as a baby through to my first year. My intense love for music had been instilled in me by my parents always playing music in the house and this song had obviously got a hook in me. Each time I play it, I get a feeling I cannot put into words because it has something to do with, I am sure, my formative year.

Music touches me in lots of other ways too, as it does for many others and I cannot imagine a life without it. But this feeling for this album is for me, special indeed. Medilloni almost puts it into words with his 'fleeting glimpse' signature.

Russ, Steph, Steve, Thank you. This is perhaps my favorite blog post...not for my post, but for your replies.

(Steph, that song is called 'I saw the light'. When I think of that song I hear the soulful wails of Hank Williams but of all the artists that have covered that song, Boxcar nails it just as Hank did.)

For any number of reasons I haven't been around much of late and just now read your blog entry. If I may:

Recently I asked someone (younger than me, older than you) who is forever going on about contemporary country if they listened much to Johnny Cash or Patsy Cline. You should have seen the "deer in the headlights" look I got in response...

Despite being a crusty old crustacean I'm still open to almost anything that comes down the pike. I have always had a broad range of interest in what would probably be termed "musical genres" in today's argot. If I just consider my CD selections over the course of the work week, music to make my two-way commute a bit more tolerable, I'm still all over the place. Last week it ranged from Robert Johnson to Tom Verlaine, Janis Joplin to the film scores of Bernard Herrmann, Maria Callas to Louis Armstrong's Hot Five's, Howlin' Wolf to Tom Waits, Rolling Stones to Duke Ellington, Mahalia Jackson (I had tears in my eyes listening to her) to Beethoven, Led Zeppelin to Procol Harum, XTC to Jackie Wilson.

One tends to go back to what's safe and to what provides pleasure and comfort, but it's knowing when to branch out and openly explore something that's new from top to bottom: that can be a challenge. I'll bet I listened to Hendrix' Red House six times this week, basking in the ocean of echo and reverb, but I also discovered something by Los Lobos that I had never heard. Once you skim the cream from the milk and you know you have quality at hand, the type of music you're listening to merely depends on your mood.

Thanks for the stimulating post, Mike.

Indeed, David. I agree. My musical tastes are, like most here, eclectic. But what did you listen to as a kid? And does listening to it now bring you that sense of comfort, almost long-forgotten, when someone else had all the worries?

Mike: Needless to say I would be trading in lies if I told you that my tastes & knowledge were as far ranging when I was young. But, thinking back, I had great exposure in part due to my mother and an older sister. As something just a bit older than a toddler I keenly remember my mother playing 78's of Tchaikovsky and talking to us about listening to Caruso when she was a child. My sister and I already had familiarity with the likes of Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis and Roy Orbison - to name those four - when the "British Invasion" began. Then I further branched out into jazz and Chicago blues although I honestly can't tell you how I discovered these forms of music or how I quickly decided who it was I specifically wanted to listen to.

Most trips back to music from earlier decades has been positive; occasionally it will approach Proust's madeleine. Odd that returning to books or films from your youth can often be disappointing to say the least. To take nothing away from the innate qualities or structure of music, perhaps it is the lack of intellect and the emphasis on emotion that allow us to readily travel back to a sweeter, simpler, greener time (and I bow to Kipling for my theft).