A Musical Tapestry in the Making

 

As a baby, I was introduced to the greats: Carole King, Bob Dylan, The Beatles and Leonard Cohen to name but a few. Mum would dance me round the kitchen to ‘So Long Marianne’ and ‘Blowin' in the Wind' while my Dad would play me tunes on his guitar that I would, in later years, hear on the LPs crackling on the turntable and realise he hadn’t created ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ or ‘Hey Mr Tambourine Man’ just for me at bedtime.

As a toddler, my Mum had some of Dylan’s albums as she’d had many of her LPs stolen some years before when she was away at college. I remember looking through the album covers, committing Dylan and Cohen's faces to memory and wishing I was that young woman staring out from the Tapestry cover knowing one day I'd sit by a window with my cat watching the world go by. 

There was a constant soundtrack in our house over the years tastes evolving to Simon and Garfunkel, Dire Straits, Rod Stewart, Joni Mitchell, then Mum's Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush phase. The Kick Inside, if I'm remembering correctly was the only album Mum had and a Greatest Hits type album much later. The record player was in the dining room and i'd often sit alone with headphones on, cross-legged late in to the evening playing through my small but significant collection.

My Mum's friend introduced me to Talking Heads and Paul Young, Kate Bush and Tracy Chapman and would copy cassettes for me, writing out all the lyrics by hand. Every visit, he'd have another selection for me and my musical tastes became rather eclectic. My first ZZ Top album had me from the first listen although Talking Heads' Remain in Light and the Eurythmics' Sweet Dreams became my go to collections.

 That Christmas I received my first walkman so I could listen to the full No Parlez album in my parents' presence, blushing furiously while the track named 'Sex' played out, Paul Young's attempt at funk, punk or pop - I really wasn't sure. At least they couldn't hear my silent rebellion.

As I reached double figures, I would wish for my parents to be as cool as my best friend's mum and dad who had a constant Radio One soundtrack in the background, where I first heard Toyah, Blondie and Adam Ant.

We would spend our days walking around our estate with one walkman between the two of us, listening to albums on cassette, often made up in the style of Toyah from Smash Hits articles. Sarah loved Wham while Adam Ant and Sting were more my style. Unfortunately, I could rarely get my hands on the latest cassettes as they were always out at the library which meant I had to listen to Wham unless I could get to the library early enough on a Saturday morning to be in with a chance.

George Michael had his moment though. At the age of twelve, my group of friends would hang out at the bus stop just outside the local general store, nipping in for cans of Shandy Bass and 10p mix-ups. A few of them smoked by then, but I was just not very good at it and my £1.20 pocket money didn't stretch far enough to support a cigarette addiction. This one particular night that Spring, we decided to call it a night as dusk fell and we all had to be home before the street lights came on. As we went to cross the dual carriage way, a bus pulled up and we carried on walking, my head full of my usual daydreams I continued on straight in to the path of oncoming traffic. It wasn't looking good after five days in intensive care as my induced coma was helping my battered body and brain recover. My best friend, Sarah, brought in her Wham album on her precious walkman and subjected me to the torment as she knew they had to stop playing the soft classical music and Bob Dylan and The Beatles. The only way I would wake up was if I was made to listen to George Michael's sultry tones. It worked. So despite our musical differences, he will always have a special place on my musical timeline.

As a teenager, I brought home The Who albums and Elton John classics such as Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and David Bowie's Hunkydory from the record fairs at the local leisure centre, all on vinyl, some without even listening to (there were some close calls with albums chosen more for their album cover than their music), and most of them much to my Dad’s dismay. 

But the three winners which were played on the downstairs record player were always Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen and The Beatles. Oh, and John Denver. We can't forget him

All my Learn to Play Guitar books were songs by them so I couldn’t help but know all the lyrics by these legends by the age of 15. I had to secretly learn The Who songs and the delights from the various Sting and Bowie guitar books I'd borrowed from the library, with my bedroom door firmly closed to escape any derision. I wanted to be a singer or a musician in a band and so friends joined together and we played The Who, Dylan and Beatles songs in a teenage tribute way. I think we even covered a Wham song. We thought we were great but we never dared play for anyone so my musical career was short lived. And my parents wouldn't buy me a parka so my styling was off.

As a young teacher living in London I had very little spare cash and all my earnings went on living and working there. I was surrounded by amazing gigs which I could never afford but I believed I would catch up with all my favourites one day, when my finances settled down.

 Instead I would spend my Saturdays in Tower Records, discovering the back catalogues of great Blues musicians, discovering Janis Joplin and Fleetwood Mac and building my Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, David Bowie and Jimi Hendrix collection. I would raid the bargain bins often taking advantage of 2 for 1 offers. It was there I discovered Buena Vista Social Club and sparked a lifelong love of  that style of Cuban music. 

As my 30^th birthday approached, little did I know that a dream long buried was about to come true.

‘Tickets to Bob Dylan,’ I read. ‘Oh my god Mum! Tickets for Bob Dylan? Really??!!’

I’d known my Mum had seen Dylan in Newcastle circa 1966, that memorable tour when he had brought on an electric guitar and stalwarts booed and yelled that he was a Judas, a traitor. Mum just wanted them to shut up so Bob Dylan could play. She quite liked the electric set and her friend who’d come with her really didn’t know what all the fuss was about. But for early Bob Dylan fans, it was a step away from folk as they saw it and they’d never forgive his betrayal. Mum thought they were all being a bit precious.

Mum said he was progressive, a poet, one who pushed creative boundaries so she thought it was all good and only to be expected really from such an artist. Life went on and Bob Dylan now played electric guitar. And the world still turned.

I don’t know how old he was when we saw him, he was visibly smaller and older but his voice and piano playing was spine tingling. I barely remember the details as I just froze when Bob Dylan walked on stage and don’t remember breathing again until after the encore. 

My mum gave me his music and took me to a Bob Dylan concert to fully feel his presence. He was magical and enigmatic, shy, belligerent and genius all in one package.. As I tried to explain myself afterwards, my mum agreed. There were no words to truly explain what we'd just been a part of. Now, we just wanted to go and do it all over again.

Mum sent me on my way, attending the gigs of the musicians I loved, not just tagging along with my then husband to see repeatedly his favourites, Howard Jones and Erasure. I warmed to them, I guess, over the years although I was known to curl up and sleep through maybe our third night of the same tour. His dedication was exhausting! I found my voice and used it. Live music was exhilarating and I needed to weave my own tapestry. 

He sometimes came with me to my gig choices and quite liked some of them, others loudly talking them down on our way back to the tube. I didn't care as I was building my own musical tapestry. He enjoyed Suzanne Vega, Beth Hart, Annie Lennox and took a real shine to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, as well as Belle and Sebastian. But Paul Weller was a step too far. He went to the bar instead while I danced at the front with a gang of very tall Mods. Noel Gallagher also made an appearance that evening and so there I discovered Oasis. 

But without him, I wouldn't have discovered Tom Waits. I am steadily building up my Waits collection again. That Edinburgh gig was one of the best I'd ever been to. Some you win, some lose. And of course, having our boys has been the real added bonus.

I still attend my favourites' gigs when I can and usually stay quite local these days. As a wheelchair user, I'm becoming quite brave at the front left of the stage with my gig buddies - we have a selection of local musicians we support and love their music. The lockdown brought a different gig experience paying to view gigs from home - we danced and sang along to Bellowhead, Bang Bang Romeo and Suzanne Vega from our living rooms. 

And of course, the one and only Nick Cave blew us away with Idiot Prayer, live-streamed from Alexandra Palace. As the world opens up, we will be able to attend gigs, sitting at tables, socially distanced and maybe choose between watching from home or attending a gig in the flesh. That arrangement would be much more inclusive - I'd never have attended Alexandra Palace to see Nick Cave as my health wouldn't have handled it at that time. It would be good to have the option. Between Lockdown 1 and 2 we saw our friends play as Led Zeppelina, a female fronted Led Zeppelin covers band from Sheffield and that was the last gig I went to.

 I feel my musical taste is becoming more eclectic than ever! I may have to look on eBay and see which albums I need today after reflecting on the gaps in my music collection. My boys think I'm old fashioned, with my music on vinyl and CD. We have a family Spotify account and so much of their music is collected on there. But I mourn the loss for them of holding a vinyl cover, reading the lyrics from a dusty paper insert and placing vinyl on the record deck. They just see that they could have played a track by the time I've set an album up to play. They have a lot to learn.