I was playing the first self-titled album by the band Traffic last night. For those who have not heard it, this album from 1968 is a classic. Alternately sombre and light-hearted, loud and melodic, it is a tour de force by Steve Winwood and the rest of the band. Winwood’s vocals never sounded so urgent. Dave Mason’s understated guitar work is brilliant, Jim Capaldi’s angular drumming is spot-on, and the lyrics are profound, yet self-effacing. It is rock, it is blues, it is folk, it is jazz. Like a lot of great music, it is hard to categorize.
Listening to the album had an entirely unexpected effect on my wife. Ten minutes into the album, I saw her sitting in a corner looking very thoughtful. I asked her whether she was bored by the music, since rock music for her is still an acquired taste (I do not blame her, considering the amount of taste she has had to acquire for it – I play so much of it). She said she wasn’t bored. In fact, she liked the album. She had another question on her mind entirely. What, she said, would the next generation of kids listen to, now that most modern music is so inconsequential and pointless?
I paused, with my glass of rum and coke half-way to my lips. I was floored. I did not expect the music to have that effect on her. I wasn’t prepared for the question, which was a very good one. “Well”, I said, “I am sure there still are some good new bands out there. Maybe we just aren’t aware of them, old fogeys that we are” (or I am anyway). Besides, in terms of my tastes in music and other references to popular culture, I am a throwback to the 1960s. I am hardly representative of my own generation; forget about kids who are much younger than me.
But the question was still a very valid one, and I started thinking of why exactly music has played such a huge influence in my life. I consider myself an expert on rock music – not just the music or lyrics, but what the music represents. For example, I can tell you what the Who classic “Won’t Get Fooled Again” means. Written and released in 1971, it is about the souring of the social revolution of the 1960s. Drugs, idealism and a naïve belief in loving everybody else on the planet isn’t going to work, the singer cautions; don’t get fooled again!
And then I realized that for me, music has always stood for a lot more than just a tune or a lyric. In many cases, it has captured my feelings in ways that I could not. Great rock and classical music reminds me of what my dreams in life once were. It reminds me of how I used to be before (like everyone else) I was forced to compromise and dilute some of my beliefs to get ahead in this world. It reminds me of everything out there that is still pure and free. It reminds me not to take anything at face value; to question everything. Rejecting easy answers to complex questions is the easy part. Sometimes (and a great art form like music tells you this), there just are no answers to the difficult questions life throws at us. Sometimes when life gets hard, there is no redeeming pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. You just have to grin and bear it.
Of course, this was not always the case. In my youth, I thought the best way to deal with the blues was to listen to Led Zeppelin’s “No Quarter” at very high volume, preferably with my choice of intoxicants and stimulants close at hand. It felt great for a little while, but at the end of the song, my problems still didn’t go away. Much later, I realized that the music in itself gave you a high. You really didn’t need anything else to go with it.
The music itself can capture what you feel, your hopes, dreams and apprehensions; in many cases, music captures it better than you can yourself. Music is also that last free, pure, unadulterated place in my soul – that last piece of paradise within me. It is mine! I am very selfish as far as guarding that space is concerned. Dig it, baby.
Of course, music has also been responsible for me meeting and getting to know many of my closest and truest friends. An initial conversation would go something like this: Me - “What do you like to listen to, man?” Friend – “Well, I like Creedence Clearwater Revival and the Clash”. Me – “Really? Well, we should get together sometime and listen to “Guns of Brixton”. Friend – “Yeah, that sounds like a plan”. And that is how many of my most valued friendships have started. Recently, when a close friend of mine saw the Who in concert in Los Angeles and brought back a t-shirt of the band for me, I was ecstatic. Yes, band t-shirts still make me happy, ok?
Coming back to the question my wife raised; Will the next generation of kids have their own representative bands, making music that reflects their hopes and fears? I do not know. What I do know is for me, so many years later, the music I first heard twenty-five years ago as a boy still matters. And I have a feeling that I will still feel this way even if I live to be eighty.
I realise this has been a “heavy” blog. I promise that the next one will be a much lighter one!
