Making musical connections
REMEMBER when we were young and chose our friends by the music they liked? The bands they listened to. The albums they owned. Or maybe that was just me. Sigh. Seem to recall it happened a few times in my early life. Maybe means I was shallow, but if I met someone who shared the same taste in slightly salty music as me, then we were firm friends forever. Sigh. Innocent times. Mind, after what happened last night, seems whatever else may have changed over the years, those simple truths still hold. Let me explain.
Some of the friendships I made through mutual musical appreciation, came about because of John Martyn. He was a Scottish bloke who could make a guitar sing like an angel, could croon like a broken hearted poet and who looked like he could happily wrestle bears, and win, before breakfasting, on whisky. He’s dead now, sadly. Much missed. But his music lives on. And not just in recordings.
I know this because the other day, an alert came in on my laptop, announcing that the John Martyn Project were playing at St George’s on Brandon Hill. Never heard of them, but according to the blurb, they are a talented bunch, half a dozen young folkie type musicians who love and appreciate the works of the late great Mr Martyn. From time to time they get together and raise a roof in his honour. The gig was due the very next night and they were still some tickets left. Naturally, I snagged a pair and told Mrs C to get ready for a spot of excitement. We were heading out for a night on the town. `
With all the kerfuffle going on recently, we haven’t been out to a live music show for ages, literally years, so we were both a bit unsure of what to expect right now. Would there be plastic screens, masks and hand sanitiser at every seat? Would we have to prove our vaccination status, like humble livestock? Would we be socially spaced, solitary sad sacks, with more empty seats than eager punters? With so many questions, it made the thought of music seem like a secondary consideration. However, when the time arrived, our fears were blown away. Most of the above were around, and you were welcome to use them, if you so wished. Otherwise, you could just relax and enjoy an evening in the company of like-minded Martyn fans.
Of course, a lot of the other audience members were like myself, of a certain age. Though there was also a good sprinkling of young `uns and older souls to broaden the load. After a wonderful few minutes drinking in the atmosphere, along with a glass of white, we headed into the hall.
St George’s is world famous and deserves every bit of its fame. The space is gorgeous and the acoustics are sublime. When the lights went down and the musicians took the stage, it was already a good night out, in my book. And then they played the first number. Wowser. What a thrill. Without meaning to, found myself closing my eyes, drifting back to the various times in my life when I have been lucky enough to watch John Martyn perform.
Somehow, these youngsters, probably not even born back then, had taken the songs, the spirit and the soul of the man, mixing them together, breathing new life into them all, without losing any of the best bits along the way. Genius. Being in a room with so much talent being used so joyfully made me realise just how much I have missed this. The sheer rush of happiness that comes from being with people who are enjoying the moment. Being alive, relishing their shared enjoyment, singing along, stamping your feet, whooping, hollering and clapping. Just for the sheer pleasure of it all. Sigh. If it sounds like I’m gushing, that’s because I am. It was life affirming stuff. Definitely worth getting over excited about.
At the interval, we got into conversation with a couple who had retired to Bristol eight years ago. Moving all the way from Woking to do so. We shared stories from our lifelong love of the big man. And just like all those years ago, our mutual musical appreciation made it feel like we had fallen in with old friends. Sadly, doesn’t look like we’ll be seeing those potential old friends any time soon, didn’t occur to any of us to swap names and numbers so we could meet up again at future gigs. But hey, there’s always next time. And after a night that good, there will definitely be a next time! Hope you and yours are well. Until next time, all the best