I Want It All

Following on from the previous blog of what seems a lifetime away, I decided to quote dear Freddie this time. 'I Want It All...And I Want It Now'. Indeed.

So what happens when you don't know what you want. Search in vain until that lightning bolt hits you one day and everything becomes clear. If you're lucky.

If you're unlucky, you'll find that buried treasure but it's not yours to keep. So you end up wanting something that's impossible to achieve, however hard you try to fool yourself. You may even try to steal a few jewels and trinkets out of the box but their benefits are short lived. Your conscience knows that they're only on loan and their true value will only ever be realised when they're returned to their rightful owner.

In the meantime, confusion combines with complications creating an unending cycle of complicated confusion. Until you don't know if it's what you really wanted anyway.

However, what happens when it feels too good to give up?

'I Want It All...And I want It Now'. Indeed.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

Yes, Mick. I know you sang those words and told us that if we try hard enough we might get what we need. So how do you explain to us the feelings we get when we want something too much. Do we deny our natural feelings or do we cast everything brutally aside and satisfy our longing. You forgot to tell us that.

Not that I ever expected you to provide the answers. That would be expecting the impossible. The moment I start thinking about the subject, I come up with more questions than answers. Questions that will never be answered satisfactorily, however hard I try. Still, it would be nice to know the answer, even an answer.

Instead, these things are sent to teach us, tease us, test us. Whatever lessons we learn will no doubt be forgotten over time and we end up repeating ourselves and our mistakes. Such is life, and what makes it so entertaining to others.

At least we can console ourselves with the fact that love conquers all.

Buddy Holly

When you're growing up, you don't appreciate your parents' record collection. To me, it was just a pile of dusty old 7" vinyl crammed together in a cardboard box at the far end of the living room. It's only when you get older, and dare to delve into this treasure trove of music made before you were a twinkle in their eyes, that you realise that maybe they also had decent music taste.

This was certainly the case with my father's collection of rock 'n' roll and pop from the late fifties and early sixties. One lost summer, drained of energy and bored to tears, I decided to revamp these lost souls and store them neatly in blue record cases. Of course, the completist in me had to listen to all these records to somehow feel I'd done a proper job. What an education it was. There was the dire, the dodgy, even the delectable amongst the familiar tones of Elvis, Cliff and the Beatles. However, the ones that stood out to me then, and are still as relevant today, were the songs of Buddy Holly and the Crickets. This geek, was way ahead of his time and accomplished so much at such a tender age. The uniqueness of his voice and guitar technique together with a creative zest helped to produce a catalogue of songs that have stood the test of time. Never prepared to stand still, Buddy continually sought new ways of writing that perfect pop song. His was the blueprint that John and Paul followed with such fervour in The Beatles. As with all beauty it was the sheer simplicity of Buddy's compositions that shone through. That flame still burns brightly to this day.

Innocence

When do we lose our innocence? In this modern age of information overload, what is there left to surprise or amaze us? And why am I asking these questions?

Take an everyday Saturday morning. Walking from my apartment to the local convenience store to suss out whether any of the newspapers are worth buying, or at least, reading. (As it turned out, The Independent had a free Sigur Ros CD so being the music obsessive that I am, that ended up in the basket with the water supply).

Let's not get distracted. Back to the story. I was treading my usual route through the car park of the neighbouring offices and ruminating on those three words I'd said last night. A couple with a young child were a few paces ahead of me and approaching the small fountain that I'd ignored countless times before. Then it happened. The boy excitedly ran towards the fountain and clambered up the steps to the running water. He then turned round towards his parents with a look of wonder and pride to melt a thousand hearts. Forget Iguassu Falls. Discount Victoria Falls. This boy had found his own Niagara in the midst of a city office block and he wanted to show it off to his parents and the world.

Something so simple, so mundane, so oblivious to the adult world was a source of amazement to this child of tender years. In a world where we take every chance to steal innocence and always want more than we are given, this pure act fleetingly brought a wide smile to my face.