long live music

 

It's been a while since I wrote a consciously curmudgeonly blog. To get this out of the system, here goes. Apologies in advance.

Support live music, they say. I agree in principle. I “discovered” a former incarnation of Joe Jackson in a Portsmouth pub in 1974, subsequently introducing him to the recording studio which kickstarted his career. But my experience of live music across half a century is a chequered history. 

I found folk nights. Audience participation was the thing. Everyone sang along knowingly to some unfamiliar dirge, at least unfamiliar to me. Songs supposedly of the people were in any case often subverted by the bourgeoisie. I was looking forward to a performance in a small bar in the north of England, but in the event I struggled to hear the various acts. Those, whose turn it wasn’t, talked loudly over the other musicians. Not a participation sport then, unlike the various singing ensembles to which I had belonged over the years (if you’re not in it you probably don’t get it). 

Despite Louis Armstong’s alleged assertion that all music is folk music, never having heard a horse sing, I’m torn between respecting everyone’s innate desire to make music and my choice whether or not to listen. In a well known sketch, Laurel and Hardy were earning 50 cents per street busking; they were offered a dollar to move two streets away.

While not really appreciating much jazz, I admit to having enjoyed the spectacle of the trombonist in a trad band continuing to to play while “under the table”. But the gentler French style “gypsy jazz” of guitar and fiddle seems ideal pub music to me, simultaneously background and foreground. And, more challenging to the ear, hearing Stan Tracey referencing Dylan Thomas in West London was another memorable moment. Mm, nice. While I reserve the more esoteric jazz/rock/funk/prog/fusions for home listening. 

I enjoy music in the right setting. In old Amsterdam I enjoyed a Christy Moore tribute act. Whatever this singer’s provenance (“John O’Dreams”, named after one of the master’s songs), his detailed recreation was sufficient to stun the pub into reverential silence. Not far from there, in Bruxelles/Brussel, the sounds of Cuban Son by authentic Cuban performers in an authentic Cuban bar were, in a different way,  just as life-affirming. Particularly at 2am, thanks to the visceral pull of the clave rhythms.

Context is all. The “stadium gig” has frequently been a painful experience due to being in the wrong place relative to the mixer guy. Great for them, but distorted bass for everyone else. At home I have found the “sweet spot” in front of speakers jauntily “toed in”. Move your head half an inch and you miss it, even with the volume turned up to eleven. But out there in the arena the irritations are too much. I feel short-changed when the applause starts before a song has finished. “Everybody put your hands in the air” means I can’t see the band, and can’t hear the music thanks to others clapping along. And on the downbeats rather than the up. I pay to hear the music, not them. Much as I respect the community spirit of that longstanding institution known simply as “Glastonbury”, you won’t find me there.

Plenty has been written by those clever psychologists about the links between loud music and one’s emotional state, whether as a way of coping, or drowning out the “inner voice”. That certainly makes sense in relation to licensed premises in less privileged locations. They try to attract custom by advertising live bands, pub singers or karaoke. The clientele doesn't have to think, there’s no compulsion to talk to companions, and maybe that’s the point. While I understand, it’s not usually for me, thanks. My apologies again. A quiet conversation at the bar will suffice. Is anybody there?

LINKS

Name-dropping on the edge of music.

Support live music | Good & Kind

"All Music Is Folk Music"

Below Zero (Short 1930) - The_Movie_Cat's review of Below Zero - IMDb

Jazz Suite Inspired by Dylan Thomas's "Under Milk Wood" - Wikipedia

Clave (rhythm) - Wikipedia

Why do people feel the urge to.... on The Session