I can’t remember if I cried... Actually, I don't remember Buddy Holly’s death at all. But I remember the first time I heard one of his songs. It was Everyday, it was 1973 and it was a cover version by the man who wrote American Pie.
The 1970s rock’n’roll revival was a wonderful thing. Wonderful for me anyway. Born too late to be there the first time round, the right age to discover it this time.
It wasn’t actually that easy. It wasn’t like today’s teenagers listening to the Smiths. All the music ever made wasn’t on tap in those days. We got drip-fed a bit at a time.
I heard Phil Spector filtered through Dave Edmunds and Roy Wood. Chuck Berry via ELO. Johnny Burnette via Ringo Starr. Elvis via Mud. They might not all have been authentic but in their own way they were great pop records. (I can honestly say I drew the line at Showaddywaddy.)
There were the occasional re-issue: Bill Haley, the Shangri-Las, Chubby Checker. There were documentaries on Radio 1. And there were films.
We went to see the film That’ll be the Day because we were in love with David Essex. We came out in love with rock’n’roll.
The soundtrack album (a double) was my musical education. Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard, the Everly Brothers. Poetry in Motion, Runaround Sue, Runaway. And, of course, Born too late.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Friday, 23 January 2009
You're history
There are some things in life that are so ghastly you have to repress the memory of them.
Like the 1980s.
Until I sat down to watch Style on Trial: 1980s I thought I had forgotten all about shoulder pads and shell suits. Lazy people call the 70s the decade that taste forgot. I think not. Consider the evidence: Spandau Ballet, Princess Diana, Margaret Thatcher...
If you were to ask me, I’d tell you that I hated the 80s. The New Romantics, the recession, really bad pop music, the north-south divide, style over substance, the idea that Madonna mattered, the loadsamoney mentality that’s got us into the mess we’re in today.
The 80s brought us ‘aspirational’, ‘lifestyle’, ‘the brand’. They invented consumerism as we know it in the 21st century. They made us shallow and they made us selfish and they made us forget what’s important in life (and it’s not your haircut).
And what those who celebrate those things forget is that for many people, there were no ‘lifestyle choices’. Back in 2009, every time I hear the television news I get a sinking feeling that’s the beginning of fear. Another business closing. Another group of people losing their jobs. It feels like the 80s all over again. The 80s that I remember.
‘Extreme excitement’ said one of the talking heads on the TV. Not if you were one of the 3 million unemployed it wasn’t.
Yes, I hated the 80s. Always did, always will. Didn’t even care much for them at the time. But watching that programme - and these programmes are always as much about social history as about frocks - I have to admit that they have had an influence on me, and one that goes further than the fact it took me 20 years to stop wearing black.
The idea that what you choose to wear says something about you (even if it’s only: I’m young, foolish and pretentious) is a concept I still hold dear. And the sexual politics of the early 80s - the decade that feminism went mainstream - still influences the way I see the world. I never did do power dressing, but I did struggle to be taken seriously in my chosen field. It's hard to imagine now, but it was only in the 80s that women really started to stake a claim to the workplace: I’m probably in the last generation of British women who left the education system expecting a job rather than a career.
Maybe I am a child of the 80s after all. But there are some things I will never believe in. ‘Stylish tracksuit’? That is a perfect example of something I was taught about in my 70s schooldays: it has to be an oxymoron.
Like the 1980s.
Until I sat down to watch Style on Trial: 1980s I thought I had forgotten all about shoulder pads and shell suits. Lazy people call the 70s the decade that taste forgot. I think not. Consider the evidence: Spandau Ballet, Princess Diana, Margaret Thatcher...
If you were to ask me, I’d tell you that I hated the 80s. The New Romantics, the recession, really bad pop music, the north-south divide, style over substance, the idea that Madonna mattered, the loadsamoney mentality that’s got us into the mess we’re in today.
The 80s brought us ‘aspirational’, ‘lifestyle’, ‘the brand’. They invented consumerism as we know it in the 21st century. They made us shallow and they made us selfish and they made us forget what’s important in life (and it’s not your haircut).
And what those who celebrate those things forget is that for many people, there were no ‘lifestyle choices’. Back in 2009, every time I hear the television news I get a sinking feeling that’s the beginning of fear. Another business closing. Another group of people losing their jobs. It feels like the 80s all over again. The 80s that I remember.
‘Extreme excitement’ said one of the talking heads on the TV. Not if you were one of the 3 million unemployed it wasn’t.
Yes, I hated the 80s. Always did, always will. Didn’t even care much for them at the time. But watching that programme - and these programmes are always as much about social history as about frocks - I have to admit that they have had an influence on me, and one that goes further than the fact it took me 20 years to stop wearing black.
The idea that what you choose to wear says something about you (even if it’s only: I’m young, foolish and pretentious) is a concept I still hold dear. And the sexual politics of the early 80s - the decade that feminism went mainstream - still influences the way I see the world. I never did do power dressing, but I did struggle to be taken seriously in my chosen field. It's hard to imagine now, but it was only in the 80s that women really started to stake a claim to the workplace: I’m probably in the last generation of British women who left the education system expecting a job rather than a career.
Maybe I am a child of the 80s after all. But there are some things I will never believe in. ‘Stylish tracksuit’? That is a perfect example of something I was taught about in my 70s schooldays: it has to be an oxymoron.
Monday, 12 January 2009
...a new one just begun
This year I will resolve to stop saying:
- A bit rock’n’roll.
- Punk’s not dead.
- You had to be there.
- Is it me or is it hot in here?
- Happy Christmas, war isn’t over.
Thursday, 8 January 2009
Another year over...
Things I’ve learned in the past year.
You can be ‘friends’ with someone and know nothing about the really important things that are going on in their life.
Nostalgia is tempting. But not always a good idea.
Cynicism is tempting. But hope is sometimes better.
The only thing that really matters is the health of the people you love.
You can be ‘friends’ with someone and know nothing about the really important things that are going on in their life.
Nostalgia is tempting. But not always a good idea.
Cynicism is tempting. But hope is sometimes better.
The only thing that really matters is the health of the people you love.
Tuesday, 6 January 2009
The joys of hibernation
Christmas Day might be sacred, but my Christmas hibernation is sacrosanct. I’m lucky: most women my age suffer stress and duty at this time of year. Due to a lucky combination of circumstances, I have managed to avoid all that. I’ve just had the best two weeks of my life: eating, sleeping and watching more TV than I would normally approve of. With the occasional bit of light reading, like the Guardian’s Saturday kids’ comic. Which is where I found the following piece of wisdom:
Here’s my best piece of advice for 2009: whoever you are: work hard, have fun, and be nice to people.New Year resolution? That’ll do nicely.
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