Last night I went to see my friend’s daughter, a talented singer songwriter, perform in a cellar bar near King’s Cross Station. As I stood there bouncing my head along to the music and tapping my foot to the beat, I was taken back in time to my youth. I was a guitar playing hippie chick who played and sang “songs with meaning” in the era of Bob Dylan and the like. I never went anywhere without my guitar. It accompanied me on my travels through Europe and comforted me when my emotions threatened to run away with me, usually because of the latest love interest. I tried to write songs however as I only ever played using a small selection of chords, I suspect they were never going to be considered great works. But, oh they were good days. Wasted of course, as is often the case, as the young are often unable to appreciate how wonderful the freedom of expression that accompanies youth can be.
Last night brought it back. I suspect my young friend would have been surprised at the young me. But as is the case as our skin thins and our hearing deteriorates, we become invisible. So although she likes me, I know that she could not see herself in me.
Don’t you love the talent of the young? Free in expression and with heightened emotion they can push boundaries with their talent. Do you know anyone who inspires you like that?
By the way, has anyone seen the Damien Hirst exhibition at the Tate? Now that is pushing the boundaries!!!