Category: Music

Encore en fois – X trois

On By Conversations with StrangersIn London, Music2 Comments

The energy and passion of Bob is hard to beat.  In such auspicious surroundings I wondered what the night would bring.  ‘I’m gonna play you some tunes from 36 years ago, 15 years ago, five years ago and last month’.  He shouted out to the reverent audience – a home crowd of the sort that didn’t just hail from the locality – London – but from those who appreciate a bit of eloquence, wit and substance with their music.

The gig progressed … and progressed. Bob, or should I say Sir Bob, was having so much fun – it was infectious.  Pete was on bass and the harmonising in the band was a beautiful thing.  Rat Trap brought the house down – everyone on their feet dancing, literally in the aisles. He told us what had inspired ‘Banana Republic’ and it almost brought a tear to my eye reminding me of the country I grew up in that I love so much.

I think it was in the second encore that Bob introduced a special guest from the original Boomtown Rats – none other than Gerry Cott. When I complimented Gerry later on the ease and professionalism with which he had taken the stage he told me that he hadn’t played for 30 years.  Sunglasses intact, with even a bit of rocking out of the old skool variety – he joined a band that were a class act.

After a rousing third encore my friends departed and I found myself at the afterparty wedged in next to the wall and a couple I had spotted earlier.  J told me he was a friend and indeed onetime pupil of Bob’s drummer – ‘Oh yes, he’s by far the best looking in the band’ I exclaimed.  ‘That’s my boyfriend!’ Carly said.  We laughed as I noticed a familiar face in the crowd.  Given that Bill Wyman and Roger Taylor were there I was reluctant to make the fatal error of introducing myself to said face in case he actually was ‘somebody’ rather than a blast from my past.  ‘What do you think I should do, J?’ ‘Go for it – he’s coming this way – look!’

‘We know each other, don’t we?!  I think you were in a band with my friend’s boyfriend, Andy once?’  ‘Um, no, I don’t think so, but I can be if you want me to!’  He turned to J: ‘Was Roger Taylor here tonight?  He was, wasn’t he? I don’t believe it – I was sitting right next to him all night and I didn’t recognise him’.  ‘He’s still here’ J replied – ‘I think I just saw him go up the stairs’.  ‘C’mon’ said my new acquaintance Rob’. 

No sign of Roger. Outside, as Rob rolled up a cigarette, Bill appeared.  ‘I don’t believe it, it’s Bill Wyman, I’ve gotta get an autograph!’  Rob pulled out his Live Aid book and rushed over. I offered to take a photo:  Bill was the perfect gent and acquiesced.

We went back inside.  ‘Has anyone seen Roger Taylor?’ Rob called out to no one in particular. ‘I can’t believe I missed him!’ He introduced me to his friend Hamish and we talked GoGo music and Chuck Brown; it brought me right back to Washington DC days.

‘I’d like to say thanks to the main man’ I said, ‘Then, I’ve got to go’.  Sir B was surrounded by people, looking dapper in peaked cap and a double breasted jacket with a nod to the nautical.  Our eyes met briefly whereupon I expressed my delight at the gig and told him my friend G had invited me. ‘You mean G has friends?!’ he exclaimed in resonant deep Irish tones, smiling. I smiled back and turned to find Rob surrounded by people and chatting to an ex girlfriend of Pete Doherty’s. ‘Was you before Kate Moss, or after her?’ he asked undiplomatically.  She turned on her heel as I called after her: ‘Don’t mind him! Let me take a picture of you with Bob’.  She kissed him on the cheek as I pointed and shooted and then she was off with a swish of her long blonde locks.

I said goodnight to Hamish, Rob, J, Jim and Carly and despite stepping out into a rainy autumnal night, felt inspired and energised as only you can when humanity, warmth and passion are to the fore. 

…and so it goes

On By Conversations with StrangersIn Life, Music1 Comment

We’ve doubled in numbers this year, and from my place at the back, I scanned the room. Very February.  All my fellow singers looked like they’d had enough of winter. Even their clothes, though brightly coloured, seemed tired, happy to be sitting down and longing for Spring.

‘Okay, now, we’re going to split this – I’d like middle voices over here and first voices to my right’ Lizzie called out.  A flurry of activity followed and some confusion.  I turned to one of my choir pals, ‘Where you going S?’ ‘Well, I thought I’d try the seconds for a change’ she replied.  ‘Really?’ I asked, surprised.  S, after all had been picked to perform a – high – solo at our Christmas concert.  ‘Sure, why not?’

Her influence won me over. We sat in the middle and learnt the next couple of pieces.  It was hard not to get swayed by the tune on our left – definitely more difficult and far more complex we agreed.

We broke for tea.  ‘We’re going into sectionals when we get back’ Lizzie said.  ‘I’ll take the firsts into the other room, and the middle and lower voices will stay here with Luke’.  Our little group was shaken to its core.  ‘What does that mean? That now we’ve learnt the seconds part for a couple of songs – that’s it for the whole repertoire?!!’ ‘But I like singing the tune!’ someone else cried.  I volunteered to speak to our conductor.

She looked at me with big blue eyes and then away: ‘You can join the firsts if you like:  I used to feel like you do, but singing the second part is great once you get used to it’.  Luke chipped in: ‘Yeah, and by the way, that part in the Billy Joel song is the really cool part – all the best crunchy harmonies’.

By the tea urn people were diving for the biscuits and helping themselves to orange squash and hot drinks – chatting away. I reported back.  Well it’s a new year – perhaps a change would be good, we decided.

Just before 9pm the firsts joined us. I looked at the world I’d temporarily left behind which, amongst other things, was inevitably a delicious prompt to singing the tune on the way home each week. I felt a bit sad and wondered if I’d made the right move.

‘Okay, from the top’ Lizzie said.  Ensconced in the middle, we sang our part and became immersed in the harmonies created by the gorgeous fusing of voices. We could feel the revelatory beauty of the sound it produced – and it touched my heart.

Elated and victorious, S and I looked at each other and grinned.

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Ibiza rocks – or does it?

On By Conversations with StrangersIn Ibiza, MusicLeave a comment

Hedonism vs joy.  Should there be a ‘vs’? Shouldn’t it be an ‘=’? But, it seems in Ibiza, ironically you can’t have both.  The music draws you back there but the quest for hedonism promotes a selfishishness that mars the joy the music can bring.

I wonder if there is something about the collective desire for a high that produces that effect – and what that means, as individually people are nice – charming even – like at Space:  ‘That was a great tune you just played’ I said to the DJ in El Salon at around 3am.  He put his arm around me and said in a Yorkshire accent, smiling ‘Oh!  I’m so glad you appreciated it – it’s one of my favourites’.  ‘Where did you find it?’ I said as I texted the name of the tune to myself.  ‘I search in basements all over the world for stuff – that’s what I do.  I found this in LA’.

At Blue Marlin as the sun went down, a woman in a short negligee drank champagne and danced as the man paying for it looked longingly at her and tried to kiss her.  In the VIP area everyone was laughing, but no one was really smiling. The guitarist and drummer on stage were superb and the music was uplifting in the sunshine but it seems that when it costs this much to have fun – the heart disappears.  Does it reflect society at large – the fact that people consider being able to spend obscene amounts of money the pinnacle of happiness and more is never enough?

I chatted to another gentleman of a certain age at the bar. ‘Do you come here often?’ I asked.  ‘Yeah, I come out a few times a year with my friends.  We stay in a mate’s villa’.  He told me where he lived in the UK and I said ‘I know, Beryl Cook lives there – doesn’t she?’ ‘Not sure’, he replied, ‘Heston does though – he’s a mate of mine, sometimes he comes out here with us’.  ‘That must be great; having someone who can cook in the party!’ I exclaimed, laughing.  ‘Yeah, he’ll rustle up a good Welsh rarebit if he’s pushed’ he replied.  ‘We do love it here but it is pricey – we spent £2k the other day on drinks and dinner for six at this place’.

I talked to Nate and Tory, friendly souls from Arizona and LA: ’24 hours to get here for us, but it’s worth it’ Tory said as she sipped her pink champagne sangria.

At the Defected closing party at Pacha as I enjoyed my favourite DJ – Bob Sinclar – from afar, I got chatting to Oliver – French and a DJ in St Tropez. He offered me a cigarette and a drink.  ‘You can’t smoke in here – can you?’  I said.  ‘I’m in Pacha, Ibiza, I can do anything’ he replied. I asked him how his ears were holding up – being a DJ. ‘I have a bit of tinnitus, that’s why I hang out at this bar – you can see everything but you’re not in the middle of it’. I talked to him about Bob. ‘Yeah, I know him; he’s a friend, we both have sons who are the same age; 13’.

I said goodbye and went up to the terrace to get a view.  Bob looked up as he mixed the CDs, intent on the job in hand – checking to see that he still had it I suspect. We went downstairs and I danced until he finished at 5am. The last song he played was ‘Love Generation’.  As with many of his tunes the melancholy riff tinged with nostalgia is the hook and one that always works – just think of Abba.  Everybody cheered as Bob thanked them and cited Pacha as ‘One of the best clubs in the world’.  But still, he never smiled.

I felt the music and the desire to have a good time but I missed the joy and the heart and I wondered where that had gone and why – and indeed if it had ever truly existed here. I thought about the lyrics of that song ‘We don’t have to take our clothes off, to have a good time, oh no’. Perhaps Bob should remix that old classic and bring us all back down to earth – in a good way.