Grief is disconcerting as it is not something we usually plan. It can also be strange in that we may not have seen that person for a long time, yet the news can hit in such a way as to leave our world shaken. With each death things have changed irrevocably, and we are powerless to change that. The world is now a different place and that can throw up thoughts of what that relationship meant. It can also bring into focus other relationships. As one relationship ends others still have the possibility of creating more music.
The past is close behind
People in our past are viewed through that lens – the past. We can compartmentalise time periods in a way that sees a false emotional distance inserted into the intervening years. The care we once felt for people and places buffered by time.
A death can rupture that illusion, as that person and your connection with them are brought both sharply into an immediate focus on hearing the news and a slower, almost drip-feed of memories and attendant emotions as the event is processed in our brains. Your past is never far away, you carry it with you, it need only be brought to mind.
Memories are made of these
As these memories surface (not always positive either, we can have love for someone where the relationship wasn’t always good) so do the things that connected you both. Places, other people, events, and a myriad of other things you shared will come to the fore as your mind sifts through the flotsam and jetsam of your lives together. Trying to understand what it is that has happened and how you feel about it. From a position of rare recall, you now focus in some detail on that time of your life.
The record discs of our lives are always spinning in the background of our minds. The lyrics may change slightly as with our perspective (we are all historical revisionists in our own way), however the characters remain the same. A relationship is a relationship. You and they existed together, lives intertwined for however long your souls shared space.
The tie that binds
Music is often something that links you to people and, like them, exists in both a past and present sense in your mind. Music outlasts both life and death. Just consider how important funeral songs are to people when representing someone who has died.
If you ever look at the comments below a song posted on YouTube it is more than likely you will find more than one person writing about how important the song is to them because it reminds them of a figure in their lives. Funerals themselves are often accompanied by music. We played a Benny Hill song at my grandfather’s funeral as he had been a milkman. It brought both smiles and tears to our eyes.
A song from the heart
Music connects me to one such person – Neil McCormick. I met him at a pivotal moment in my life. I was 16, struggling to overcome the barriers society had thrown up before me. I found myself unexpectedly homeless and he – knowing I was just a young boy in need of support – gave me both a roof over my head and an opportunity to get myself away from the situation I was in and start afresh.
I was introduced to a new life with an abundance of characters to observe and learn from as they succeeded and failed in their own unique ways. The care he showed me changed my life trajectory for the better and that will never be forgotten.
The beat goes on
Neil was a drummer and had a deep knowledge of certain genres of music. He introduced me not only to live music through watching his and other bands but also to many musicians that would end up shaping my worldview to some extent.
We sat up late on many nights listening to tapes and playing records. With him rewinding certain songs and replaying over and over again some lyric and passage of music that he felt I should hear and appreciate. ‘Savage’ he would say. Savage being our word for amazing at that time. He was right, those songs were, and are still, simply amazing.
Ch-ch-changes
The songs were not only tunes and words to dance, listen, sing along with. They introduced me to such things as diversity and acceptance. Listening to early R.E.M. songs and learning of Michael Stipe’s sexuality helped change me into the person I wanted to be. I had been brought up in a housing scheme in Dundee which was far from a tolerant place. No-one was telling me it was OK to be gay.
Listening to Captain Beefheart at his friend Dave’s flat (aka China Pig) helped me develop an appreciation for uniqueness and the absurdity of life at times. Damn, we need a sense of humour to get through all life can throw at us. Then there was Public Enemy giving me a political awakening and a realisation that injustice connects all the oppressed. All this made me feel more alive than I’d ever felt previously. It enriched my life.
Get up, stand up
It wasn’t that we would always agree. Neil would lambast me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes for my devotion to Bob Dylan. I would, because I wholeheartedly believe it to be true, defend my love for Dylan’s music and argue with passion that Dylan’s songwriting was rarely matched. These duels developed my ability to defend what I believed in then, something I still do to this day. These debates were a lesson in identity, which helped me build my own. Sometimes we need to be challenged to truly define what we believe to be true.
It is all too easy to be influenced in life, especially as a young person growing up. I like to think there was a modicum of respect for my stance.
We all stand together
I wrote this article because I am processing the grief I feel. That grief led to reflection on what shapes our values and beliefs and how music can play a huge part in our personal development. But instead, it is a homage to someone who died unexpectedly which reminded me of his importance to my own life and all those others who knew him. Some of whom I have reconnected with since.
I offer it up in his memory and hope his family and friends know how much he, and they, mean to me. Maybe on reading this you too will play a song in memory of someone. That your smile, like mine, is tinged with sadness but smiled in any case. Adieu Neilly… the beat goes on.
More in society.
