Chairman’s Chit Chat October 2023
To use a modern expression, “I am happy in my own skin.” I consider myself fortunate that I live a relatively happy and contented life. However, there is one – just one thing – which I crave for: I wish I had some musical talent.
When our maker was handing out skills and talents, I did not even make it to the music queue, let alone to the front of it. A modicum of talent would have appeased me but regrettably I do not possess even a pinch.
I like music and listen to it all the time. At heart I am an old “folkie”, being brought up on the likes of The Spinners, The Dubliners and early Bob Dylan.
At the end of every Christmas term my senior school used to put on a musical extravaganza, something along the lines of Gilbert and Sullivan’s ‘The Pirates of Penzance’, which ran for three nights. I longed to be part of it – not just any old part but the soloist. Convinced, as I was, that there would be a talent scout in the audience who could see I was a star waiting to be born, and that a life of fame and fortune lay ahead of me, I made my move. To get my foot on the first rung of international stardom, I decided to audition for the chorus.
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The audition consisted of singing the scale to the accompaniment of Mr Jones, the music teacher, on the piano. When I got to “ray”, I heard Mr Jones’s anguished cry of “next”, my glittering musical career and the rock-and-roll lifestyle scuppered before it had begun. I was traumatised.
I have never sung in public since.
This was the 1960s and youths not much older than me, and from similar backgrounds to mine (think The Beatles), were making it BIG time.
Change of tack. Play an instrument.
I don’t know why (maybe it was inspired by Paul Jones of Manfred Mann) but I decided to become a virtuoso on the harmonica.
An absolute disaster. I was blowing when I should have been sucking and sucking when I should have been blowing. Another career dead end.
For 40 years my musical aspirations were on hold, a “proper” job, marriage and a family taking centre stage.
Then eight years ago, on a whim, I bought a five-string banjo.
To my mind the banjo produces the greatest sound of any musical instrument ever invented.
Another nod to my “folkie” influences I suppose. All the extras were purchased immediately – a “Teach Yourself The Banjo” book, a carrying case, finger picks and an electronic tuner. It has made no difference at all. I still can’t get a tune out of it!
So here I am, seated at my desk, looking at the banjo resting in its case in the corner of the bedroom – and daydreaming of what might have been.
Tags: banjo, music, talent