Okay, so we called it ‘Music Week’ but ‘Music Week-and-a-half, possibly longer’ just didn’t work. So, brace yourself, it’s Anita time…
They say teenagers are embarrassed by their parents – everything they say or do is just cringeworthy. A trip anywhere would be torture and heaven forbid you saw any of your mates.
My teenage years were slightly different, I was slightly different. I wasn’t a sheep and I certainly wasn’t cloned to every other teen, unlike today! I was individual, with my blonde backcombed hair and pale skin, my black clothes and make-up made a striking contrast. If you thought winged eyeliner was a bit exaggerated now, my ‘goth’ look was something else – double the width and add some drawn-on hearts down the side of the face. I was certainly noticeable. (No pictorial evidence? – Ed).
My parents didn’t want to be seen with me! They were the ones that walked a few yards in front. Nor did they share my alternative musical tastes. Siouxie and the Banshees and Bauhaus were perhaps an acquired taste.
Move forward a couple of years, the boys had discovered motorbikes and I discovered a passion for their heavy metal music – W.A.S.P, Guns N’ Roses and, my favourite, Metallica. I rocked, literally, With skinny jeans, thigh high boots and a motorbike leather, I would be found at any local gigs headbanging at the front. How I balanced on five-inch heels after several pints of snakebite and black is beyond me.
It was my love for drinking and music (possibly in that order) that led to me frequenting the Bell at Cawston and the Aylsham Unicorn.
The Bell had their own footy team, and everything revolved around it. The lads that played drank there, the end-of-season disco was held there, quiz nights, the dog racing and any fun event to raise funds for the club! The Bell ate, slept and drank football and the anthem for the end of every night was Hi Ho Silver Lining (that song still brings back so many memories).
It was only a matter of time before you were roped in to help out with the team and I was sometimes seen on the sideline armed with a sponge and bucket ready to douse anyone feigning injury with ice cold water. However, you usually found me beside the urn making umpteen teas and coffees.
Though I looked forward to watching the local teams on a Saturday and Sunday I still hadn’t seen a professional game. So, I crazed two of my then boyfriend’s mates to take me to one – the rest was history. I was addicted, I’d found a third love. One that rivalled music and I got my first season ticket.
My musical tastes then changed more to mainstream as I was dragged by the Snakepit posse to clubs, such as Boss Hog’s and the old Chicago’s where I met my ex-husband.
Our house was then filled with my husband’s music which consisted of U2, U2 and more U2. I’m still bored instantly the moment I hear Bono’s dulcet tones.
In more recent years my musical taste reverted back to more of a rock base – The Killers, Hard-Fi and Kaiser Chiefs, and these are still today some of my favourites. My daughter though has claimed most of the CDs from that era, proving (I’m sure) that I have good taste.
I would never have taken my parents’ LPs or cassettes. My mum’s Neil Diamond and Dad’s classical music just didn’t resonate with me.
My son is the one that “DJs” and takes control of the music in my car, with his downloads and the modern-day Bluetooth. He has been introducing me to some modern-day hip-hop and rap, some I actually like. Perhaps my parents could have grown to love Siouxie Sioux had I managed to convince them to listen!
Perhaps we are more receptive or it’s maybe it’s more acceptable to listen to our parents/kids’ musical preferences nowadays.
Music is, however, a personal preference – you can move to different genres, it’s not rigid, unlike supporting your footy team. However, it can still induce joy or tears.
I recently got given my old LPs and the joy of hearing the stylus go down, the crackling in the background of the songs was magical. It instantly took me back to my childhood and my 80s styled bedroom and the temptation to whack up the volume and sing at the top of my voice wasn’t curbed (poor neighbours) but I did manage to refrain from the headbanging!