“Taking Things for Granted” or

“A Modern Day Story of Musical Hell”

By: Gaby

Two things I’ve learnt:

1) Sometimes you just can’t help taking somethings for granted.

2) One man’s idea of what Rock is, is another man’s idea of crap.

So with those two things in mind, let me share with you a little story.

On a recent evening trip out with my girlfriend to a Birthday party; at one of those “friend of a friend” sort of functions and who were obviously loaded and had invited some 200+ guests to their wealthy estate in the south Buckinghamshire wooded and very exclusive countryside where they had converted their Barn into a night club / restaurant / live music venue, we were “treated” to an entire evening of 80’s electronica and dance floor disco beats brought to us courtesy of the night’s resident suited and booted  DJ.

Now I say the word “treated” because obviously the majority of the people in attendance were thoroughly enjoying themselves much helped by the endless free bar which seemed to have lubricated their throats as well as their feet as they took to the dance floor in droves and flung themselves about with great abandon to what for me at least was passionless dross that nearly drove me to mind numbing madness and insanity.

Even when the “band” came on, little improved as they played an average set  of covers of the usual and much hyped and over played media exec. money- making radio and MTV pop for the masses.

I suppose I have started to grow used to being the musical outsider at such functions, but increasingly I am finding it more and more difficult to be tolerant of non-Rock music. I’m not sure why this is; perhaps it’s my age, because even though I could name nearly every one of the songs being played this particular evening (sad as that was); having grown up being forced fed this stuff on the radio and TV etc., the music left me feeling as cold as the temperature was inside the barn and as empty as the heads of the many bopping bimbos on the dance floor.

Repeatedly my girlfriend and I pleaded with the DJ to offer us a paltry 2 or 3 Rock offerings that we could have a little bump and grind to on the dance floor and although we had his promise that he would, alas the majority ruled and this was not the night to upset the Laura Ashley and Hugo Boss clad natives.

I was beginning to feel like a man in a musical desert for which he felt his life slowly ebbing away in a sea of musical dross longing for a musical oasis of Rock in the far distant horizon.

More than anything I suddenly felt myself completely out of place and longed to be transported into some spit and sawdust pub with some Metal band pumping out some serious noise. I wished for the sounds that made me feel alive and energised and longed to be amongst my own tribe of metal heads once again where people seemed real for the most part and had something interesting to say for themselves apart from how much cash they had or what new flashy car they might have purchased.

So after a 5 hour wait glued to my chair in anticipation and based on what was an obviously empty promise for a single tune that might contain the hopeful notes and beats of a Rock track, nothing emerged and sadly the night for us had come to an empty, shallow and sorry end, or maybe the word should be happy!

For the very first thing I did upon entering the car for the long journey back home again this cold and rainy night was slap into the car’s music system some tunes by “Motley Crue” and “Velvet Revolver” and with a gentle click of the play button all was well again at last.

The smiles upon our faces as we turned to look at each other and the tapping of our feet said it all and our ears could once more breathe a grateful and appreciative sigh of musical relief.

And that my rock-head friends is where this little story ends. Take from it what you will but beware the omens well, for what one person says is Rock is certainly not another’s and last but by no means least, be very grateful for what you know and have and love, for when you do not have it you miss it all the more.