Singing old songs (and why I love them)
I love music. This last few days have reminded me how much it has marked and continues to mark my life. Like rings in a tree’s trunk, there are so many songs that are part of my growing up; so much music that has left its groove in me forever.
We are staying with close friends in Ireland, celebrating their little girl’s baptism. We have been part of family celebrations with them for over 15 years and music has always been present at these events, in the way that only seems to happen organically in Ireland. Somebody brings a guitar, or whatever comes to hand, and by a certain point in the evening, the music starts. Sunday night was no exception and we had a joyous few hours singing and laughing together.
But last night was even more special. The majority of the party had headed home, leaving us and our good friends together.
We met when, as part of our degree 21 years ago, we all three were placed as English Language Assistants in the same French town. Our Year in Compiegne was glorious. Our friendship, which quickly included M, was fierce and tight and built itself on shared experiences both during that year and since. We don’t see each other much more than once a year but we always pick up where we left off, without missing a beat.
Music is a huge part of what binds us so intensely. Like smells, music can transport you straight back to a place or time, and there are songs which take us all immediately back to that year of freedom and adventure. As we prepared tea last night, we set SmallBoy to work as DJ, and he found songs like The Fugees’ Killing me Softly, and The Police’s Don’t Stand so Close to me, which would always transport us straight back to the flat we lived in or the bar we used to go to.
But GiraffeBoy and SmallBoy didn’t leave us there. They, of course, are starting to discover for themselves the songs that will become their own tree rings and our kitchen disco started to involve bands like The Arctic Monkeys, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Kaiser Chiefs and lots more.
Thanks to the wonders of music streaming services, the whole evening was filled with music that we each loved. Musical theatre came up and we introduced show songs to each other. Silly songs came along to suit the mood. Softer, more sentimental music brought the evening to an end.
And throughout the evening, I just had a feeling of such joy and wonder at the music – where it could take me in my memories, the emotions it was provoking, the way it pulled us together and reminded us where our individual tree rings are linked.
When I began to understand that my calling to ordination was serious, I quickly felt that music would need to take a step back. I stopped advertising myself as a singer, dramatically reducing the numbers of gigs I performed, and focussed on teaching as my day job, while I walked along the discernment path. The decision to cut back was the right one but I remember the sense of bereavement I felt for a while for the singing career I was giving up. It had been hard-won and worked-for and had taken me to amazing places and given me extraordinary experiences. Letting that go felt like the first real sacrifice I was going to have to make to follow God’s plans.
But as things started to become clearer, it also became obvious that music would remain a part of my story. Yes, of course, singing is a good skill to have for a vicar but it’s more than that. There are different kinds of songs that are becoming my newest tree rings. Songs that have accompanied my discernment and will now always take me back to the sense of God’s call and feeling his reassurances that It Would All Be Ok.
Songs like Oceans are now as much part of me as the Fugees, or Blair in B minor (college chapel choir tree ring), or Sting’s Fields of Gold (falling in love with M tree ring), or Beyoncé’s Halo (watching my very young boys in wonder tree ring), or Con te Partiro (singing at family and friends’ weddings tree ring), or so many others.
So I repeat. I love music. It should probably go without saying for a singer, but sometimes the very fact of working with music all the time means you forget to appreciate it. I have remembered this week and I am grateful for everything it has given me so far and everything it will continue to give – all the tree rings that have been created and all those that are still to be formed.
We are staying with close friends in Ireland, celebrating their little girl’s baptism. We have been part of family celebrations with them for over 15 years and music has always been present at these events, in the way that only seems to happen organically in Ireland. Somebody brings a guitar, or whatever comes to hand, and by a certain point in the evening, the music starts. Sunday night was no exception and we had a joyous few hours singing and laughing together.
But last night was even more special. The majority of the party had headed home, leaving us and our good friends together.
We met when, as part of our degree 21 years ago, we all three were placed as English Language Assistants in the same French town. Our Year in Compiegne was glorious. Our friendship, which quickly included M, was fierce and tight and built itself on shared experiences both during that year and since. We don’t see each other much more than once a year but we always pick up where we left off, without missing a beat.
Music is a huge part of what binds us so intensely. Like smells, music can transport you straight back to a place or time, and there are songs which take us all immediately back to that year of freedom and adventure. As we prepared tea last night, we set SmallBoy to work as DJ, and he found songs like The Fugees’ Killing me Softly, and The Police’s Don’t Stand so Close to me, which would always transport us straight back to the flat we lived in or the bar we used to go to.
But GiraffeBoy and SmallBoy didn’t leave us there. They, of course, are starting to discover for themselves the songs that will become their own tree rings and our kitchen disco started to involve bands like The Arctic Monkeys, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Kaiser Chiefs and lots more.
Thanks to the wonders of music streaming services, the whole evening was filled with music that we each loved. Musical theatre came up and we introduced show songs to each other. Silly songs came along to suit the mood. Softer, more sentimental music brought the evening to an end.
And throughout the evening, I just had a feeling of such joy and wonder at the music – where it could take me in my memories, the emotions it was provoking, the way it pulled us together and reminded us where our individual tree rings are linked.
When I began to understand that my calling to ordination was serious, I quickly felt that music would need to take a step back. I stopped advertising myself as a singer, dramatically reducing the numbers of gigs I performed, and focussed on teaching as my day job, while I walked along the discernment path. The decision to cut back was the right one but I remember the sense of bereavement I felt for a while for the singing career I was giving up. It had been hard-won and worked-for and had taken me to amazing places and given me extraordinary experiences. Letting that go felt like the first real sacrifice I was going to have to make to follow God’s plans.
But as things started to become clearer, it also became obvious that music would remain a part of my story. Yes, of course, singing is a good skill to have for a vicar but it’s more than that. There are different kinds of songs that are becoming my newest tree rings. Songs that have accompanied my discernment and will now always take me back to the sense of God’s call and feeling his reassurances that It Would All Be Ok.
Songs like Oceans are now as much part of me as the Fugees, or Blair in B minor (college chapel choir tree ring), or Sting’s Fields of Gold (falling in love with M tree ring), or Beyoncé’s Halo (watching my very young boys in wonder tree ring), or Con te Partiro (singing at family and friends’ weddings tree ring), or so many others.
So I repeat. I love music. It should probably go without saying for a singer, but sometimes the very fact of working with music all the time means you forget to appreciate it. I have remembered this week and I am grateful for everything it has given me so far and everything it will continue to give – all the tree rings that have been created and all those that are still to be formed.
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