I Wanna Be Like You Hoo Hoo

Do you remember that song from Jungle Book sung by Louis Armstrong when the king of the monkeys tries to persuade Mowgli to tell him about fire? That is the sort of music we were enjoying over a picnic lunch on Friday at Harrogate Spring Show. Normally I'd have been reporting another example of Crofty's sad decline into his dotage; and you could be forgiven for thinking it, had you seen the scene: not a non-grey hair in sight, baskets and trolleys filled with all manner of horticultural miracles and a host of polite mature gardeners gathered around the bandstand to listen to the Yorkshire Post Trad Jazz Band.

And they themselves - the band - looked as though they might be part of some sort of leisure class put on to fill the time until death for the residents of Happy Valley Residential Home.

But it wasn't like that.

These grey haired over sixties couldn't half play: rythmn pulsed through them, setting many creaky hips jigging, flasks tapping and sandwich wrappers rustling as the crowd swayed and tried to resist the temptation to dance: well it wouldn't be polite.

The contrast between age and energy was even starker when the fabulous double bass player ceased his finger gymnastics for a break and sat down by us. He was suddenly transformed from a stunning musician into just another old man whose daughter fussed around him with his luncheon meat sandwiches, making sure he took his tablets and ensuring he was warm enough: coat buttoned up tight.

I wanna be like him....and I wish other people could have seen him before and after too, just so they think twice next time they make assumptions about the next old man or woman they see.

A Musical Triumph

You should have been there; then at least there would have been around thirty people present to witness our musical offering last Saturday. I can only assume that there must have been something really good on telly; what else could have prevented the masses from coming?

Still, despite all the potential disasters, given that we had only practiced the whole set three times, I thought we pulled off our gig with remarkable aplomb. We wizzed through Sit Down by James (but a quirky folky arrangement with accordian, acoustic guitars and double bass - I'm not sure it was meant to be quirky, but quirky it was); made short work of Lindisfarne's Meet Me On the Corner; and similarly demolished a number of other popular songs and traditional tunes.

"Tonight will be a night of popular songs, songs you might not recognise, and popular songs you might not recognise" we quipped. But I think the twenty odd assembled guests were pleasantly surprised - at least the ones who had their hearing aids in at any rate.

I still stand by my premise that this type of musical event ought to be commonplace: intimate gatherings with a group of local people and friends, with the musicians drawn from the people. Our performance was more than adequate and no one was left squirming in embarassment, in fact I think a number of the gathered mass actually enjoyed it.

Perhaps we can become the musical Oldham version of Blyth Spartans (I choose this team over Oldham Athletic for their reputation as doggedly determined against-the-odds football fighters - call me disloyal if you like). Meanwhile I had a wasted trip to Forsythe's music shop in Manchester to replace my snapped G string (insert snigger here) only to be sniffily told 'we don't do single strings and I doubt you'll find anyone else in Manchester who does'. I took his sniffy advise and ordered three of the beggars from Stringmail.co.uk - it hurt though, you know my attitude toward real shops, I would rather have had a chap find me some from a dusty drawer beneath the counter. A couple of the songs we did were by Bellowhead (that is my gratuitous way of justifying the image!) by the way, we are going seeing them tomorrow night at Bury Met to see how it should be done!

A Proud Sarah Police Lady

Many of you will remember my friend Sarah Didsbury, a serving Police Officer, who for a time wrote a popular blog about her work. I agreed when, as happens with young people, life, love and other pursuits took precedence, to carry on posting occasionally if the whim took her.

On Saturday sat chatting, drinking coffee with her and her dad, an ex-sergeant himself, she was sharing her feelings following the memorial service for Michael Todd. Her dad, usually a critic of blogging and other such works of the devil, was keen for her to share her views so here they are: a new post from Sarah Police Lady.

The Association Principle

The association principle explains how marketers latch on to success in order to bask in the glow and achieve more sales; hence you get celebrity endorsement and the like. There are places that have almost become brands in themselves - London, Paris, New York - and people's ears prick up when they hear talk of these cosmopolitan, glamorous locations. Then there is Oldham.

We are rather the opposite, when one of our own sons or daughters make good we are eager to cling to their coat tails as they disappear in a cloud of dust up or down the M62 away from the town - usually to one of those glamorous places. It's embarrassing though , it smacks of desperation even, when these people clearly want to disassociate themselves from those they left behind and we desperately chase after them claiming even the most tenuous association.

Take the composer William Walton: Oldham born and bred but as soon as his talent was out, he was off spending his days with his glamorous and clever peers; and did he return in his dotage? No, he finished his days in sunny Ischia. But for years we have treated various relatives of his like royalty as we invite them back to sit in state at various borough musical events and the like.

Another is the world famous glass artist Brian Clarke. When The Spindles shopping centre was designed he was the obvious choice to do the glass roof but not because he was conveniently placed in his studio down Retiro Street, no, because he was famous and had to be brought from London. I think we only saw him once when the thing was complete (which predictably featured images of Walton and his music) he was there for the opening, but once he'd got his cheque we didn't see him again.

But no matter how these notables shun their mill town heritage we still love to cling to them - has everything that has ever given us pride in our town got up and left?

Last Saturday we watched ITV 4 with excitement as boxer Choi Tseveenpurev bamboozled young Liverpudlian Derry Mathews with his unconventional boxing technique to take the WBU title from the choked youngster (his technique, if you are interested, seemed to me to simply consist of being tough as old boots, not minding being hit much and then hitting back very, very hard).

Why do I mention it? Because Mongolian born Choi is based in Oldham in fact he trains at Tara Leisure where my dad goes. And, yes you've guessed it, we are all very proud of him in Oldham, never mind that he was born many thousands of miles away - he's successful.

Oh, by the way, aren't you glad that I didn't mention the old joke that was on everyone's lips after they saw the photo of Choi... it wasn't? Oh, go on then.

Boxing promoter Frank Warren was in the dressing room talking to Choi before the fight and asked him where he was from. Choi replied "Oldham, Mr Warren" to which he replied....wait for it...."Wear the Fox Hat"

I thank you!

Keep Music Live...But Don't Expect Too Much!

I have a sticker on my guitar case that loudly proclaims 'Keep Music Live'; it is a relic from the days when musicians thought that disco would be the nail in the coffin of live music (I really am that old). I mention it because the reason I haven't written for a week or so is that I have been practising, practising with two similarly aged friends for an evening when a small audience will sit expectantly for us to entertain them.

I am no longer worried that live music is doomed - it is clearly thriving - but I do worry that we are losing a certain type of live performance. Live music is rarely part of our lives any more, unless you go to church, but that was not always the case. Music was a regular part of every day life in homes and pubs, and I don't mean the paid for sort of turn you still get in pubs and clubs, I mean the sort that communities provided for themselves.

I suppose there is an extent to which this still exists in the brass band world and other organised musical groups but we do seem to lack the spontaneous sort of entertainment that comes from within.

Our own gathering will be a church social meeting and I can't help worrying that one of the reasons that this sort of music is dying out is that our expectations are set unrealistically high by what we hear around us; and what we hear around us are highly skilled musicians with studio production, polishing their already honed performances.

Consequently, when the quality is not as good as the professionals it narks me to see people wince at the odd wrong note or squirm in embarrassment because the version of a James Blunt song is not like the one they hear on the radio (and believe me it won't be!).

So what do we do? I suppose we encourage everyone to learn an instrument and play together in homes up and down the country. Alternatively (or additionally) ensure that when you do have a small amateur musical gathering everyone is liberally supplied with wine and/or beer - that should make it all sound much better.

In our case I dare say we'll be nipping in The Grapes before our ordeal - I mean performance - so perhaps we won't care in any case!

In the meantime: reach for your recorder today, Keep Music Live!