For much of my life, music has been entwined with everything I do - from starting to play recorder and piano as a small child, joining my first choir at the age of 7, to singing in 3 choirs weekly in my teens and early 20s, playing piano duets with a friend, finding a neighbour who was a baroque musician to play flute and keyboard or viol pieces, or just listening to a range of styles. Since Covid and cancer, however, I've stopped actively partipating - it's hard to play flute or sing while masked! - and am keenly feeling the loss.
I've recently started sharing one of my in-office days with another colleague who enjoys as wide a range of music styles as I do, so our afternoons pass to the accompaniment of a wide range of soundtracks. This afternoon alone we started with the Eton Choirbook (late C15th), swerved into baroque countertenor duets and solos, wandered into Jan Garbarek and the Hilliard Ensemble, sampled Will Todd's Requiem for choir, soprano, and electric guitar, and ended up back at the Eton Choirbook. Previously I've shared some of my favourite Tudor church music, some Swedish romantic piano and orchestral pieces, and rediscovered some lovely crunchy C20th French music - starting with the Poulenc flute sonata and growing out from there. In return, I've been given a playlist of Klezmer music, which was completely new to me.
One thing which often takes me aback is how intricately entwined so many of my memories are with pieces of music. Some are obvious and unsurprising - pieces which I've had solos in, or studied for A-level, or played for exams - but others have less expected ones. The countertenor duets linked above transport me immediately back to my university days, when a friend and I would lie on the floor drinking gin and listening to these. Jan Garbarek is the early years of marriage, having friends round for dinner. The Todd Requiem gave me (mostly happy) flashbacks to rehearsals in a Cambridge college chapel, and St John's Church, Smiths Square in London where we singers got to actually see the guitarist perform his amazing solo properly.
At the same time as my own musical involvement has decreased, my children are sharing more of their musical tastes with me. Yes, Taylor Swift features, along with Hozier, but also some lesser-known singers, particularly Maisie Peters. And Paramore has made a reappearance, too, having opened for Taylor Swift in one of the London gigs, reminding 20-something how much she liked them.
True to their name, the Chaos Gremlin has very wide-ranging and eclectic tastes. Everything from 70s pop and 80s rock through to Swedish reggae, sea shanties, folk-rock-steampunk, and little-known YouTubers. Oh, and the Dvorak cello concerto! Car journeys together become a voyage of discovery as there's something new almost every time. The only difficulty is trying to work out what genre things might be in order to explore futher, as crossover and hybrid genres are definitely their preferred thing.
In the pre-Covid era, I took both kids to a few gigs of their choosing. My absolute favourite was Panic! at the Disco, at the O2 arena in London in March 2019. From the moment he burst up through the floor at the start, to the very end, it was a display of outstanding showmanship and an utter masterclass in performance. Brendan Urie's almost irrepressible energy was just about held under control, and created an electric atmosphere. Even within the first couple of songs, he varied the pace of the performance, and displayed his astonishing vocal range.
The staging was generally quite straightforward, with the dramatic use of fire at times (such as in 'Crazy = Genius'), and fantastic lighting effects, although other than the very start, the part that has stayed with me most vividly was the 'flying piano', as Urie played a song that he played as a child with his mum while the piano on its small platform out in the audience raised into the air and floated back to the main stage, the song segueing into 'Dying in LA' (still known all these years later as 'the flying piano song' to me and my Chaos Gremlin!).
Another high point was 'Girls/Girls/Boys'. in which the audience was encouraged to hold up the coloured hearts which had been on their seats, and Urie draped an assortment of pride flags around his shoulders as they were thrown onto the stage. After the song finished, he spoke briefly about the importance of acceptance and support, before moving into the next song.
The set list was a great mix of tracks from Pray for the Wicked - the album which gave its name to the tour - and older favourites, including of course Death of a Bachelor. The rest of the musicians on stage looked to be having about as much fun as Urie, and had their own moments in the spotlight, from the classical vibes of the opening string build-up to the big-band sounds of the brass instruments. Urie showed off his musical talents beyond just his vocal skills, by not only playing piano a couple of times, but also guitar and even drums.
Of the live gigs I've been to, this one stands out as the best. Urie's sheer energy and love of performing shone through every moment, and his infectious enthusiasm guaranteed a great evening.
Totally different in style and scale was the concert by French singer-songwriter Zaz, which I went to a few months later, with my older child - then in Year 12 (in fact, the night before one of her French AS exams. Bad parent!). This was a very different atmosphere - the Shepherd's Bush Empire is a much smaller venue, but this had the advantage of the audience being so much nearer the performers, and having a great view even from the cheaper seats! Again the staging was fairly restrained (other than the lights and some pyrotechnics of course!) - the band and singer on the stage, without additional dancers etc. but no extras were needed.
Zaz's general style is described as jazz-funk, and she wanders between the two and blends them effortlessly. From covers of Édith Piaf, and jazz scatting, to a 'trumpet solo' played by singing into her hands, and a theramin solo. Yes, this concert has the distinction of being the only time I've seen a live theramin performance!
My French, having been neglected for the 30-something years since my last GCSE exam, was in no way up to understanding any of the songs, or anything Zaz said - but that didn't matter at all. Her musicianship transcends language, and her performance made for a truly enjoyable evening.
Nowadays, however, I'm too nervous of the Covid risk to be happy going to any large events. Maybe one day I'll get back to another live gig - but in the meantime I have lots of happy memories of special times that my offspring shared their music with me and brought me into their worlds for a while.
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