Phew…
Emotions and memories are funny things, are they not? I’ve just recently been given a load of mp3 files from the ‘family band’ I was in, for a few years as a kid, circa age 16-18 year old, perhaps?
The band went through many band name changes. Something I really disliked! At the point when these recordings were made, we were called The Minotaurs, and comprised my mum on lead vocals and rhythm guitar, my dad, on bass, and I was the drummer. Completing the line-up was Malcolm Heyes, on lead and rhythm guitar and backing vocals.
I’m 49 at the time of typing this, so this music is over 30 years old. It’s the best early record of my playing as a drummer that I have. And for that I’m grateful. But it also brings back memories of a lost era in my life when my family were still what one might call a solid nuclear ‘family unit’. It could be said that this band put paid to that.
But that’s another story.
Or is it? That’s the thing. I can’t really hear this music and not feel some of the pain associated with events that would unfold in the ensuing years.
Part of me might want to be able to just listen and respond to it ‘purely musically’. But then again, that’d be weird. One of the chief appeals of music is how it stimulates feelings.
My mum and Malcolm – that tells you something about what came to pass – recently contacted me asking if I’d like to hear these tracks. And also talking about songwriting credits, etc. I’m glad they did. It is nice, on one level, to hear this stuff again after so many years. It’s surprisingly good, in certain respects.
And it’s nice, if this music is to exist our in the real world, as opposed to languishing on a few cassettes in drawers here and there, to be credited for my part in it. I have to say that I’m rather proud of my number, Blue Claw Sky, and for my age (and considering how little schooled I was in the art) I’m quite chuffed with my playing.
I didn’t know this, but I think we owe John Garrad, a friend of my dad’s who ran a folk record label called Plant Life, and is I believe responsible for the surprisingly good recording quality, a debt of gratitude for capturing is so well. This was, after all, just a little local pub gig, in (I think?), Fordham.
But we also owe ourselves a big pat on the back for a decent set competently played. We were well rehearsed, from frequent practise and quite a busy giggling schedule. The set, mostly originals, with a couple of those being instrumentals, and one or two covers, is strong.
Also in our favour, we had a decent and appreciative audience, who can be heard digging out stuff. Very gratifying! If only all local pub gigs could be more like that!
Anyway, I found the impact of the complex bittersweet mix of emotions too powerful to do the whole thing in one sitting. In fact I had to dose myself carefully, and it took three sessions of listening to hear the whole thing.
I don’t think it can be the entire set, there doesn’t seem enough material? And as I recall we were the main (only act?) that night. I may be wrong!? It also seems to be in a random order, starting with what was the last song before we took a break between sets… we’re all the tracks recorded that night? If so, what’s become of the rest?
Anyway, I must admit I’m fairly proud of what we had going, and pleasantly surprised that it’s pretty good in most respects: songwriting, performance, recording. But listening to it isn’t too easy, thanks to the historical emotional baggage. But, hey… that’s life. And that’s part of the charm of music, that it sears the emotions into the synapses.