Do you remember the days when you could dance, with friends?
I look forward to those days again.
They days at the Alternative Nights where I would dance, without needing a drink, just the pounding of the bass-beat to the likes of The Cult and The Cure.
Then the festivals, the sun, Sinead O’Connor, Marilyn Manson, Belle and Sebastian, the staggering friends, the long drop cess-pits, then the swampy rain.
Native songs in sweat-lodges, pressed to the wet ground, holding onto the drum and call. Om-chants, Noor appelations, Pachelbel’s Canon in D sung in rounds. And the one my kids hate me singing, which moves me to tears, the South African freedom song Shosholoza.
Whatever it is, whatever my age, our age, music is the magic which can draw us inwards, unite us across our differences. Music draws us towards it, towards the drum, the fire, the rhythm moves our feet, our hips, our shoulders, it changes our breathing and our heart rate.
And for Jock it was the magic which has shaped his life. It caught him and has carried him from small flats the American road trips to gigs, note by note, calling him forward and he had the courage to listen and follow.
Jock Tyldesley plays fiddle and banjo, specialising in the old-time and cajun music of the southern United States. He has been a professional musician since 1990 and toured all over the world with various international artists. He also makes rather good hot sauce…so join me in conversation on my podcast this week.