Music fan

I was out this week at a work function. As most work functions go mine was no different, I knew the other people there but not well. The conversation was staid and often missing all together. It was this backdrop of shuffling and using wine glasses at metaphorical and actual defences against saying anything, which led to one of the work group asking me: “So… do you like music?”

I thought that people only asked this to highlight awkward moments when eating out with a Ben Stiller character in one of his chronic rom-coms.

Do I like music? Come to think of it – do I like food? Am I an appreciator of colour? Is the human notion of what we express as time passing, my bag?

Naturally, I like music. I am almost certain everybody likes some form of rhythmic noise. And those that don’t I would imagine look a lot like this:

Believe it or not, I would often hear some music and then a few days later go into a music store and buy a music cassette tape of it, back in the day. That was proper devotion to liking music – not simply downloading it from any mobile device that is in reach like the youth of today. And my music taste has changed from pre-teen bedroom playing of the latest Jean Michelle Jarre opus through teenage angst Elliott Smith and Radiohead and then into the broad musical church of high-energy techno.

In fairness it did lead on to an ice-breaker of conversation:
If you could choose any musician to give you a personal serenade – just the two of you, on a veranda overlooking a private, white Pacific beach under the pomegranate reddening late sunset of a warm summer’s night – who would it be?

For me it was easy, pop rocket of the moment: Lana Del Rey
Someone else said: Robbie Williams
A third went for: Christina Aguilera, singing Dirrty. Twice
Further round the group a vote went for: David Gray

I am sure, dear reader, you get the idea.

So when the question came steadily round to settle at one of the women and, after a further 15 seconds giving it serious thought, still went for: Whitesnake, it was not surprising that we all quickly resumed to nursing our drinks in silent contemplation of having perhaps revealed too much and trying once more not to catch one anothers’ eye.