Soundtracks

Music is an important part of my life, other than when I am birding or working there is likely to be music in the background. I am quite old school in that I listen to and enjoy the physical presence of CDs. For any younger readers, they’re a kind of shiny plastic disc about 15cm wide that you place in a little drawer in a machine, and wires then run from this machine to another machine called an amplifier, and from there yet more wires run to loudspeakers. If you want to listen to something different you have to go to the machine, take the disc out and put another one in. Or send a child. When not being listened to the discs live in little square plastic cases which take up vast amounts of room yet give undeniable pleasure. This past sodden weekend my CD player got a lot of action, including Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” which seems to be appropriately apocalyptic for the current place where the world finds itself. 38 years old yet still highly relevant, prophetically cyclical you could say. We also listened to Van Morrison, Keane, Springsteen, Waylon Jennings, Tracy Chapman and Mozart. What that says about Chateau L and its residents I cannot say.

Music can also help connect you to physical moments. Neither Mrs L nor I are soppy enough to have an “our song” or anything like that, but Friday evening will always see Van M’s “Saint Dominic’s Preview” get an airing. The whole family know it by its alternative name of “The start of the weekend music”. This tradition goes back a long way and the original reasons why are lost, but those first "da da das" signify the start of something better, something positive, a clean break. It is infectious; I suspect our kids will do it too in later life.

For me, music comes into its own during travel, especially solo travel, which has been known to happen from time to time. All of my trips have soundtracks. Just before my recent trip to Madeira I finally fixed whatever it was that was wrong with my iPod (other MP3 players are available) and so was at long last able to download a number of those funny shiny discs onto it, including Bruce Springsteen’s “The Promise” that I had bought some time ago. This is a series of recordings from the late 1970s that were part of the “Darkness On The Edge Of Town” sessions, but that didn’t make that album’s final cut. Released finally in 2010 after a 30 year hiatus they are however equally as good, and I spent my journey to and from Madeira, driving time, as well as some down-time in the evenings getting to know it. I mean really know it. In short, excellent, particularly The Brokenhearted and a couple of others. This is not intended be some kind of Springsteen eulogy, the same is applicable to all sorts of albums listened to on other journeys. I am just saying that whenever I listen to this particular album or hear a song from it, and despite its content and mood, I will now always think of the glorious levadas in Madeira that I walked along whilst humming various melodies, and the wind-blown trek out along the ridge to the viewpoint at the Pico do Arieiro to look at the Zino's colony. Of the stunning collection of mature South African cycads at the Monte Palace Jardim, hundreds of ancient plants. Of the amazing succession of viaducts and tunnels that make up the major roads on the south of the island, and the amazing coastal road that goes from Sao Vicente to Porto da Cruz on the northern side. And then finally a rather gin-fuelled return journey back to the UK with a fabulous sunset at 37,000 feet.

Yeehah!

What a fabulous weekend. Wanstead Flats overflowing with migrants, and then two amazing afternoons of top-quality music at the O2 in Greenwich. I'm only lying about one of these things, and it being mid-March you might think I would be talking about the latter. Especially when I tell you it was a country music festival, Nashville-on-Thames. But no, Wanstead Flats had no migrants whatsoever, bar a Chiffchaff that has probably been here all along but only just started singing. It was pretty rubbish on both mornings, all the good singing started around 4pm.

For those of you that don't know, I'm a big fan of country music. This is less dominated by twangy banjos these days, but there are still a lot of songs about love, cold beer, and trucks. Generally a love of cold beer and trucks, though possibly of high school sweethearts too. Frankly it's an ideal complement to my other cool hobby of birdwatching, and makes me the all-round "hey, I wanna be that guy" guy. Not. But I don't care, I absolutely love it, as those who have been on long-distance twitches with me driving will know. The Country2Country festival (such a great title, so much hidden meaning...) is becoming an annual event, and takes place over an entire weekend. There is now sufficient demand for this genre that they're able to fill the O2, and what was almost a sell-out last year was a definite sell-out this time around. Last year I only went to one of the days, and saw amongst others two massive names, Vince Gill and Tim McGraw (look 'em up!), but this year I went the whole hog and was there both days. The line ups were Martina McBride, Dierks Bentley, The Dixie Chicks, and the Zac Brown Band, followed on Sunday by Chris Young, The Band Perry, Rascal Flatts, and finally Brad Paisley. Just so people can understand quite how popular they are, I did a protracted search on the wikipedia, and between them these eight artists have won 20 Grammy awards, and sold a massive 83 million albums (and that's just in the US), 29 of which went platinum (or multi-so), with a further 10 gold. This is big, big stuff. Dixie Chicks album Wide Open Spaces sold 12 million copies. That's more than Automatic for the People. More than Back to Black. More than Harvest. More than The Lion King soundtrack.

Getting ready

Lots of this. NO shame.

It was of course fabulous, with the Dixie Chicks, Rascal Flatts and Dierks Bentley being particular highlights. The Zac Brown Band, possibly my favourite group at the minute, were excellent but I didn't think as good as when at the Shepherd's Bush Empire last year, and Brad Paisley, like Tim McGraw (40 million albums, 20 Grammys...), was a superstar and exemplary showman. Cowboy boots and wide-brimmed hats were of course in abundance, though not on me. I draw the line at a truckers cap, I have no need to look (more) like a tit. Anyhow, something like ten hours of live music over two afternoons/evenings, and a brilliant atmosphere. If they can keep it going I'll be there every year. Whilst I prefer the smaller venues for sure, the convenience of multiple acts one after the other with much reduced "per band" rates is an excellent idea, and one I hope continues. 

Pretty much a perfect weekend as far as I was concerned, let down only by a distinct lack of Wheatears. Partial redemption on the way back from the Sunday gig with calling Tawny Owl as I walked home from the bus. When I got home I ordered eight new CDs. Twitchers beware.

Yes, some brainwashing did occur....

Yet more banjos

Enjoyed another great gig last night, really pleased I nabbed a ticket all those months ago. I have no defence, I just happen to like music that has banjos in it. There are worse crimes - photo critique for instance. It's always dangerous to make definitive plans for October, but I think I got away with it. The one bird I needed this past weekend, a Pied Wheatear, was on a far-away island and then got itself eaten by a Sparrowhawk before I could even contemplate how to get there. Ideal in many respects, especially for the Sprawk one supposes.

A nice quiet concert for a change, and I got home without my ears ringing, unlike most other things I've been to this year. A lovely voice, smart lyrics, fairly sassy in person, though she did say she loved London a few too many times - to a big cheer every time of course. Just about enough material to get through it, but she's only 24 with a few albums under her belt, only one of which has hit the mainstream. Or my definition of mainstream anyway - Same Trailer Different Park - test it out today, even if you think you don't like banjos. Slight issue with a guy yelling "Texas" as loudly as he could in many quiet bits, as well as some dude behind me shouty-singing every lyric of every song, and filming himself doing it - can't wait for that to hit Youtube. Still, most enjoyable, and twenty quid well spent, and not forgetting the two Essex ticks as well - all days should be like yesterday.

Rocking it up at the Olympic Park, or Another Rock Star Encounter

I spent yesterday afternoon at the Olympic Park in Stratford. The Zac Brown Band, Alabama Shakes and The Black Crowes were essentially all warm-up acts for one man. The Boss. Bruce Springsteen. Or more precisely, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. His music is the soundtrack to my entire time on this planet, and I've been a fan for nearly twenty years. I'm not sure what happened this year, but I finally realised I could go to concerts, including to see Springsteen. Within the three hour set were more legendary songs than you can shake a stick at, including the whole of the "Born in the USA" album, in order. Complete groupie that I am, I managed to get very close to the front of the massive crowd. Oh, and I smuggled a smallish camera in.....

Eric Church

Another day, another gig. Counting Crows on Monday, Eric Church last night. I must remember not to book two in a week again, but trouble is I didn't know about the latter when booking the former. Had it been a straight choice, the Counting Crows wouldn't have got a look in. As regular readers may know, especially if they also read my twitter feed, my other cool hobby is country music - well, perhaps best to call it Americana. I guess people think of banjos and bandanas, but that couldn't really be further from the truth. The themes are country, for instance trucks and cold beer feature pretty heavily, but the actual music is rock and roll. And Eric Church rocked.

His last studio album "Chief" (he's only done three) won Album of the Year at both the CMA awards and the ACM awards, and is a blinder. Of all the people I wanted to go and see live, he topped the list, so when I found out he was doing his first UK concert there was no way I could miss it. Thoughtfully I bought Mrs L a ticket too, as somehow she knows all the songs, and begrudgingly admits he's a pretty damn good musician, even if he doesn't play enough Monteverdi for her liking.

What can I say, it was brilliant. The audience at the HMV Forum in Kentish Town knew every word to every song, not just "Springsteen" which was the single that got UK airplay. As a live act, he is superb. If you want to get an idea of how good it was, he's just released a live album called "Caught in the Act", and it pretty much sums up the show last night. And it was LOUD! My ears are still recovering, no chance of me picking up a Wood Warbler any time soon, though the insistent duh-duh-duh-duh-duh of a Lesser Whitethroat did make it through the slight tinnitus this morning. There, birds. Relevance.