Let me nail my colours to the mast. I come from a family of music makers, some orchestral musicians, even opera stars. I have listened to countless children’s recorder ensembles, heard violins scream for mercy and wince as youngsters try to choke the bagpipes. So I know what good music sounds like. It is the sound of joy, pleasure in making music and pleasure in listening with open ears and mind.
Last night’s WPC musical soiree was wonderful. Sure there were teething troubles. Perhaps the microphones weren’t loud enough. Maybe the repertoire was unfamiliar or alien. Maybe some preferred to carp about the number of seats. Perhaps all the chilli shrimp had gone. Or they had to drink white instead of red. But at the end of the day, music is about pleasure, not the accuracy of notes on the page. And there were some wonderful moments.
Everyone has their own personal favourites. I loved Eros’s splendidly kitsch version of Spandau Ballet’s anthem Gold. Tom’s sopranos sax was wonderful too in what I think was it an old Herbie Hancock tune. And Emma had them creased with her stand-up routine. And then there was Omotola’s gorgeously husky rendition of the cup song. It got the hairs on the back of my neck up.
It was music that made you tingle. And the whole thing was held together by Gaynor and Brian, in matching gold outfits trading banter. Pure fun. Pure joy.
And even I joined those on stage to sing John Lennon,s ‘Let it be’.
There was a lot of music and a lot of love. The parky family is still the house of love. There will always be Statler and Waldorf, waiting in the wings. But then, if you haven’t got it, maybe you don’t get it.