Where be that blackbird to?

Dear lads -

With an average age of 70 and your broad west country accents you’re not most people’s first choice of music – let alone music to listen to when you’re feeling down. But for me, you are.

I was introduced to you by N one chilly autumn evening in deepest darkest Oxfordshire. We were all down in the farmhouse drinking deep red wine when suddenly a song comes on the ipod. Suddenly for no reason (and nothing to do with the wine, I promise) madness struck – hats were found, instruments were dug out of old chests and a group of 20 – 30 something year olds were dancing, singing and playing instruments while wearing silly hats. We went through the whole album that night – your songs piercing the inky night that blanketed the farmhouse.

Since that heady first experience, I’ve used you as a pick-me-up. I giggle over lyrics, I sing along and bounce around while driving, I adopt an accent.

Unlike some other albums and artists, you don’t remind me of N (Brothers in Arms and the Mamas and the Papas in particular, neither of which I can listen to without feeling scared and sad).

You don’t have any bad memories associated with you. To me, you’re happiness. You’re getting drunk on cider. You’re rugby matches (screaming into the car park at an away game, music blasting through the open windows, my friend and I in a haze of cigarette smoke, giggling). You’re that wonderful freedom that you feel when driving in the middle of nowhere, singing at the top of your voice and not caring.

I don’t listen to you so much anymore. There’s not much need.

Maybe though, maybe this evening, I’ll dig you out while I’m getting for another jam-packed weekend. You can accompany on this next stage of life too.

Thanks guys.

Love,
 nuttycow

This post is part of Hope’s 30 days of truth series.

Part 13: A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days.

You can see all previous posts here.