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JAYNE WITH A WHY |
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Saturday, January 31, 2009MUSIC MEMEMEMEMETHINGYDubai is host to its very own Bridget Jones & the dear lady has tagged me on what I shall sentimentally call a stroll down my musical memory lane. My apologies Bridget, for changing the format as such - I just thought the following would be fun :-)  As a sprog, being dragged up in the heart of the Garden of England, my earliest musical memories are of Jim Reeves. Sunday dinner in our house would most definitely not be Sunday Dinner, without Gentleman Jim warbling sadly in the background. Gary* & myself were dragged off to a nearby village once a week to learn the art of ballroom dancing & dances such as the waltz were mastered & demonstrated to the likes of this early musical genius. Ahhhh bless. (Only old farts like myself will remember the likes of Gentleman Jim. Young readers refer to Wikipedia please) Dubby Dear** was a great fan of Engelbert Humperdink (sad, I know) but thankfully not Tom Jones, whereas Pup*** would stick on a Hank Williams LP at every available opportunity. This was the music I grew up with throughout the 60's. There was the odd sprinkling of Elvis/Beatles/Monkeys/Rolling Stones/Gene Pitney (Rubber Lips)/Sandie Shaw/Dusty Springfield/Bill Haley etc, but on the whole, the music was ballad orientated.  In the very early 70's, the above album was the lifeline to cling onto the hippy days. I remember saving every penny of my pocket money to buy 'hippyish' clothes. I probably looked a right twat. In '71 I went to Romania to see my dad, as he was working there on single status. I came back with an 'Afghan' style embroidered jacket, which was made of some form of geep & smelled just as bad. I still have this album, albeit in the form of a CD. It brings back some pretty good memories of my early teens. It's also a favourite of Hubs, so we both reminice whilst warbling to Mama Cass singing "Dream A Little Dream". I no longer have my Afghan jacket, thanks to some fuckin head-wobbler nicking it in 1983. My early teen years were spent listening to the likes of Alice Cooper, T-Rex, Status Quo, Elton John, Rod Stewart, Ian Dury & The Blockheads, Wings etc but I avoided that shite defined as disco music. I wasn't much of a Motown fan & still cringe when I hear the likes of the Stylistics or Three Degrees - eeeeek. Tony Orlando made me want to puke every time I heard Tie A Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Old Oak Tree. Radio DJ's in the 70's committed the same sins as they do now, by playing a song over & over again until you're sick to bloody death of it. In 1974 my parents dragged me away from England, to start a new life in South Africa. At the time I wasn't impressed, but I soon got over it. The last song I ever heard in England was "I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane" by Peter, Paul & Mary. Most appropriate methinks.
And whilst on the subject of Spadge, he in all his wisdom, introduced me to Faithless. He listened to some right crap in his yoof, but I have to admit I took an instant liking to both Sunday 8pm & Reverence. (As I type this, I'm lissenin' to 'God Is A DJ' & am bopping away in my chair. My husband is giving me some very strange looks.) Together, Maxi Jazz, Sister Bliss & Rollo manage to produce a truly unique sound - from upbeat to spiritual. Spadge also introduced me to Nirvana, which I tended to listen to when I was either on a downer or on my way to the shrink. I can handle the occasional track from the MTV Unplugged in NY, but after ten minutes I'm ready to blow my brains out. Over the last couple of decades, my music taste has broadened quite a bit. I can quite easily go from listening to Guns 'n Roses to Garth Brooks. In the latter part of the 80's, I was based on a construction camp in the Sondu area of Kenya. I had a 2 roomed wooden house & the misfortune to live next to a Portuguese couple who earned their nicknames of Mr & Mrs Poison Dwarf. They 'grew' pigs in their yard, which they duly slaughtered - on their front stoep - when sed piggies were fat enough. They were strange days, spent trying to avoid strange people from strange parts of the planet. I tended to lose myself in my music - it was either that or lose myself in the bush. My poor little laptop was bulging at the pop-rivets with Dylan, Bette Midler, Live!, Skunk Anansie, Jill Scott & the one & only Dolly Parton. She went back to her roots with the album Little Sparrow & I still rank it as one of her best albums to date. The music & lyrics range from tear-jerking to good 'ol country boy stuff & I personally think it kept my insanity intact whilst Poisoned Porras & slant-eyed little yellow people (with bad breath & disgusting table manners) created havoc. Ahhhh, those were the days...............
 
I'll pluck my air guitar to Jimi Hendrix whist riding on Tallulah & will daydream back to the days of sitting in the peace & tranquility of the African bush whilst listening to Manfred Manns Plains Music. I'll cry if I hear a particularly sad song & I'll do the quick step around my living room to a Dixie Chicks number. I'll make lunch to the bump 'n grind of a coupla Justin Timberlake tracks & wonder just exactly who Jamey Johnson is singing about in the song In Colour. I enjoy my music.
What about you? * My brother **My mum ***My dad  
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