I took big daughter to a pop concert at the weekend, along with some of her friends. It wasn’t really my thing, to be honest – I like my music to involve real guitars and real drums but it was all right in a boy-band sort of way and big daughter had a fantastic time.
Music has always been very important in our house, whether listening to it or playing it. My husband says that he’s the only one in the family who doesn’t play a musical instrument but he’s very good with the CD player! Our combined collection of LPs and CDs range from AC/DC to Wham with plenty of interesting bands in between, and both of our daughters can often be found rifling through to see what they might like to listen to as a change from their own CDs. There’s always music playing somewhere in the house, and I like that.
Music is one of those things, a bit like a cat’s purr, that makes you feel better and in some cases can have dramatic healing results, but no one really knows why. Perhaps it’s the way that there is music for every emotion and occasion, whether you need to dance like a mad thing around the kitchen or sit quietly and relax. It doesn’t matter whether you give it your whole attention or it’s just on in the background. It evokes memories and sentiments that might have been hidden away for years and brings them flooding back within seconds; it can help you study or sleep, can lift your mood or bring tears to your eyes like nothing else.
There are times when the music gets too much in our house – at the moment, small daughter’s favourite song is ‘Gangnam Style’ which I can only cope with for about thirty seconds, and big daughter likes to have her music on in her room so loud that I can sing along from downstairs. My husband has music that he plays in the car because nobody else particularly appreciates it – but that too, is the joy of music. There’s so much of it that we can all have different preferences and still find music that we all enjoy together - which is why in a few weeks big daughter and I will be at a McFly concert listening to a boy band (with real guitars and real drums!), and then listening to the classical pianist Ludovico Einaudi. Small daughter is still developing her taste but I’m sure it won’t be long before she too wants to go to concerts, and as big daughter won’t need me to go along with her by then, I’ll still get to listen to the boy bands. Not that I mind, really, but I feel that it’s my duty to grumble just a little bit about today’s commercial pop music. Just don’t tell the girls that I play their CDs when they’re at school!