Stereophonic sound. Stereophonic sound. Stereophonic sound. For dance music.

Excuse me while I witter on for a bit.

See, when I were a lad (and no, it isn’t going to be a settle down, children, hark to me, and listen closely as I regale you of tales of my youth on the wide, and harsh, open seas) I liked music. And I still do. I played the clarinet many, many years ago, in primary school, but had to give it up when I got the the Grammar school, due to, well, I had to stop, let us leave it at that. And then the one chance came up in big school, well, only the single child with perfect pitch got a chance to learn. (And this hadn’t really changed by the time my progeny got to be part (briefly) of the Norn Iron education system. South Cambs has a very different attitude.)

So the thing was, I never played any musical instrument while going through puberty. I recall my lil bro had an electric gee-tar at one point, but it never interested me. I preferred to just buy the latest vinyl epic and listen. At now, sitting here with my pipe (I wish. Although I will need one for evening walks with Tycho) on my rocking chair, I wonder why it never occurred to me back then.

You make me want to pick up my guitar, girl, and celebrate the myriad ways…

Fast-forward (quite) a few years, you will find me in The Portland Arms watching a bloke with long plaited hair singing with a girl on three foot platforms doing the whole Patricia Morrison bass schtick. Talc? Check. Corset? Check. Staggering out later on, one of the beer-festival regulars and I decide we could form a band. Add a tall (they have to be) bassist the next day, a drummer a bit after that, a singer waaaay later, and we have a band. Bizarrely, some talent, too. But most of all fun.

So much fun, I wondered, and wonder in this weblog post, why I didn’t think to make music myself during my youth? Who knows? Not me. There certainly wasn’t any talking to me then. Some might argue there still isn’t these days, but they would be WRONG.

And now I twist dials and mic up amps, in my shed, for fun. I really do enjoy it. (Similarly to photography, having bigger, more expensive. equipment makes up for a lack of talent. Doesn’t it?) My children play music, and enjoy it. (Bonus: here are a few seconds from a song intro, with me on gee-tar, second male child on cornet, and the reverb taken up TO THE MAX. Reverb. It is the sonic equivalent of DoF in fottigraffy. Masks all sorts of schoolboy errors.)

Alas, I am never going to headline Wembley, nor be caught in a room snorting coke off several startlets’ thighs, nor get done for speeding in one of my DB6s. But when you reach this stage in life, quality is more important. And I enjoy making music. (Sidenote: I have also signed up for RPMchallenge, and you should too.) FVDO music, you wag.

On the other hand, I don’t feel I have wasted time. Time moves on regardless of what I do, so how can anyone waste it? Sure, things could be different if I took that path over this, but I am here, and I am now. That is all I ever am, and all I ever will be.

But stuff all that, turn the amps up to 11!

Patch(bay)work quilt