Memories Are Made Of This : The Golden Years of The Sixties Music Revolution

I suppose my first realisation that music wastoday. To say we were spoilt for choice is not to
something more relevant than learning the words tooverwork a phrase.I haven't even mentioned the many
carols for the school Christmas concert wasfolk clubs sprinkled about which I visited with my friend
appreciating my Dad's collection of 78s'. He was aLucy as a guest singing duo, where we shared stages
man with unusual tastes in music. My contemporys'with the likes of Bert Jantz, Duster Bennett, Cat
parents listened to American crooners, like BingStevens . . We would travel to isolated venues in the
Crosby, Dean Martin and the like, or the big bandheart of the Berkshire countryside and find ourselves in
sounds of the day.But my Dad had individual tastesa barn somewhere, with people sitting on hay bales
which included Eastern European folk music, Scottishand listening to the stirring voices and lyrics of Sandy
bagpipe ballads and Welsh miners choirs; plus my firstDenny, Davy Graham and John Remborne, or even
introduction to classical such as exciting pieces likethe Wurzels (bring your own cider!).If you wanted to
Aram Khachaturian's "Sabre Dance".My Mother, adance, but strictly not ballroom, you could stomp the
dedicated Crosby fan, disliked these strange sounds tonight away at a selection of 'trad jazz' clubs. Bands of
the extent that she banished any playing of thevarious styles were always on tap; Dick Morrisey, the
'caterwauling' to our barn, a large wooden structure ataforementioned Ken Collier, Acker Bilk; It really was a
the back of the house. This suited my Dad, and me,golden age for live music of every kind. And it didn't
just fine.He would mend bikes and tinker withcost an arm and a leg to indulge yourself. If we paid
machinery in one corner, while I would curl up on amore than a couple of quid to get in we felt hard done
battered leather sofa looking at pictures in old movieby. Even special occasions, like seeing the Who or
magazines, giggling at jokes in back copies of LilliputCream at the Hammersmith Odeon were cheap at
and reading girlie type books (Little Women, Blackthe price.Wherever we hung out with our mates there
Beauty etc.) while the haunting strains of Bulgarianwas music. This was the age of the coffee bar,
womens' voices, Highland airs or the overwhelmingalways with a juke box in the corner belting out such
sound of Welshmen giving it their all emanated fromclassics as 'Dock on the Bay', or Buddy Holly's latest or
the old wind up gramaphone; memories are made ofAretha Franklin, Jimi Hendrix, Joan Biaz; where to stop!
this.Musically I've come full circle. With the increasingBefore the fashion for 'personalised music' (catered for
popularity of 'world music' I am, once again, enjoyingfirstly by the Walkman and now in it's newest
Bulgarian women's harmonies and Welsh folk songsincarnation, the ipod) the latest tunes brought like minds
along with the exciting newcomers from African andtogether. A normal Saturday outing was to the local
Latin American roots.Every generation, mostly, thinkrecord shop where friends would crowd into a booth
that they have experienced the 'best' period of topicaltogether to hear the latest in the 'charts'.Maybe it was
music, but I do feel that the sixties were a specialall just 'fashion' but, as the years race by, that sixties
case. Consider this; any weekend my friends and I hadmusic has stood the test of time. Many of our heroes
a difficult decision to make. Did we go 'up town' to Kenare still household names. Our children still appreciate
Colliers to see American blues stars like Big Billsuch giants as Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix and Otis
Broonzy or jazz giants like Dizzy Gillespie; or perhapsRedding. The likes of Paul Weller, Rod Stewart, the
to the Marquee or 100 Club to listen to the up andRolling Stones still tour all over the world. Am I showing
coming Britishers like Paul Weller in the Jam, Ericmy age when I find it hard to appreciate modern day
Clapton and the Yardbirds and Georgie Fame with theofferings? Of course I am but no more than any other
All Stars.Or did we stay closer to home and go to theperson who has let music into their life.From the
Riki Tik in Windsor and risk asphyxiation in the tinymoment the first cave man (or woman) discovered
room listening to an exciting new group called thehow to make musical 'sounds' from reeds or rocks,
Rolling Stones. And that was only the start; what aboutwater or wood, we have enjoyed the privilege of a
Osterley where you could hear John Lee Hooker,great gift. How to explain the catch at the back of the
Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee and any number ofthroat when we hear a familiar song or melody? How
other Southern American blues stars; or Windsor Drillto describe the pure feeling of exhilaration and joy as
hall where, on a Friday night you could enjoy the bestmany human voices come together to sing some
of Cyril Davies and the All Stars, which usuallyparticularly uplifting work. I dare anyone to say they
featured one of my favourites, Long John Baldry.And,have never felt that. And if some hardened souls insist
if you were willing to risk parental wrath, it had to bethat is the case; well I feel very sorry for them.Fabio
Eel Pie Island in Twickenham, a den of iniquity wherewhiles away the hours in his Tuscan villa writing and
you could hear the best of new rhythm and blues;enjoys plying his trade especially on the Internet. He
smell strange substances burning in the air and where Ienjoys his music and often visits Quality Original
first encountered psychadelia in the shape of PinkRecordings where you can find a fine selection of rare
Floyd whose innovative light shows of coloured lavaimports. You can reach him here: Internet Traffic and
lamp blobs popping and forming ever different shapesBrand Building.
were the precursor of the giant video screens of