“If music be the food of love, play on…” Twelfth Night,
William Shakespeare.
Lots of us have an ‘Our Song’ or a piece of music which is
meaningful and special, above and beyond all others. I find it uplifting when
something significant comes on the radio and transports me back in time. If
that particular time was happy, it’s nice to re-live that fond memory. If it
belongs to a dark time, it’s good to reflect on how we coped and what changed.
Challenges and experiences make us who we are.
I love music. I grew up with Sing Something Simple on
Sundays long before the contents of the pub juke-box became important to me. My
mother listened to the wireless Light Programme or played records, so I was
effectively drip-fed her favourites. Tommy Steele’s Little White Bull, Acker
Bilk’s Stranger on the Shore, Anthony Newley, Billy Fury, Neil Sedaka, Dusty
Springfield, Joe Loss and his Orchestra, Elvis, and of course Russ Conway, amongst
others. This was before The Beatles. She was young and trendy, my mum. I still
have her record collection and just looking at them brings back childhood
memories. There are lots of Russ Conway, singles and a couple of LPs. I don’t
know if they were called albums in the 1950s. I think I’ve mentioned before
that Russ Conway was responsible for me longing to learn to play the piano. I
wanted to lift the lid on the old upright in the concert room and make music come
out of it, not the out of tune honky tonk sound that someone knocked out of it
on a Saturday night. What a blessing a juke-box was in later years.
I had years of classical training but I do not have musical
talent. Occasionally I play on our electric piano, a cast off from a very
talented nephew with a music degree. Our son can play piano, keyboard, guitar
and bass, all perfectly well by ear. He’s amazing at that. Our daughter has a
beautiful singing voice.
The first album I bought was The Rolling Stones, Through the
Past, Darkly. The second was The Moody Blues, A Question of Balance followed
quickly by In Search of the Lost Chord as I discovered there was MBs stuff I
needed to catch up with.
The pub juke-box and The Moody Blues was and is the
soundtrack to my life, as it constantly grows. No juke-box now, but the radio
is always on, or a CD, YouTube or MP3. Music will always surround me, in any
form.
When I was fortunate to meet Moody Blues bassist, singer,
song-writer, John Lodge, I took the opportunity to tell him how glad I was that
he had included ‘Saved by the Music’ in his solo tour. It is a song that means
so much.
Hymns have their place amongst my favourites. As a child I
was more than happy to sing in church. As an adult, I enjoyed teaching my
Sunday School class new songs or hymns. It was a small group but they were
enthusiastic and we had lots of fun.
When I started to write this poem, it seemed to grow legs
and run off taking with it all the thoughts that were buzzing round my head. As
a result, it is more personal than I intended, but what it is, is me.
My Music
I smiled and sang as my nemesis
frowned.
Her eyes swept my room, not an
inch unexplored,
But for now, my feelings were
carefully stored.
I’m with The Moodies In Search of
the Lost Chord.
I made that room spotlessly clean
and sparkly
While the Stones carried on,
Through the Past, Darkly;
Then busied myself with the next
task to hand
And wasted no effort to
understand
Her jealous resentment or what
might be planned.
I’d given up wond’ring what she
even means
As I sewed fabric flowers on my
old jeans.
And Stevie belted out For Once in
my Life
And I join in fully, like he
knows my strife.
We could have slashed the
atmosphere with a knife.
All I was saying was Give Peace a
Chance.
I’m off at the weekend to spend
time in France,
Away from that border-line
aggression
When she hits the drinks in rapid
succession
Attempting to cover her sick
obsession.
Music, my music, my means of
survival
And sanity, with her hasty
arrival.
Bad mem’ries and nightmares, too
much have amassed,
But those times are now long
since gone, in the past,
And I’m Saved by the Music,
myself, at last.
PMW 2019
Thanks for reading, Pam x
1 comments:
I'm with you on the importance of music, Pam.
I think the fact that your poem felt to you like it was assuming a life of its own is all to the good - the true creative impulse at work - lending what you've written a power that comes from authenticity and a depth of meaning and emotion. I like it a lot.
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