November 2013.
We are all just stood there, instruments in hand, facing each other. The
buildings around us cold and empty, going nowhere. This stark
contrast to the tight intricacy of the tramlines at our feet, causes a stir within us, as we anticipate what we are supposed
to do - why we are here. The four of us have our respective
instruments, and we know how to play, but, at this moment, cannot
muster the confidence to actually play, nor play together in concert. But, we know that we must. Suddenly, only I am in this scene. Alone, sat behind
my drum kit, I am now the focus. It must be me who
starts the song and who begins this process. I forcibly activate some
strain of confidence. I raise my sticks, ready to strike the opening
beat. Cut to black. I am suddenly awake.
On a Saturday evening in mid-November 2013, I stuffed piles of dirty
clothes into a small rucksack. The washing machine in our apartment
had ceased in its functions the previous Wednesday and our fears
mounted as news of a visit from an electrician was not forthcoming. Alas, in the meantime, I resorted to making the journey, traversing
my way across town, to the laundrette.
I had loaded the recently
released album Rituals, by
Fenech-Soler, onto my mp3
player, to accompany me on my trek,
such
was the distance to what was 'the nearest' laundrette. I
remember walking across Montpellier Gardens, located just south-west
of Cheltenham town centre, in
the evening twilight, observing the white gusts of my breath in front
of me, while feeling warm inside. I
had packed a book
and had acclimatised to the prospect of spending the following hours,
alone, in the presence of the tumbling of clothes - the
mechanical, unconscious cleansing of human filth. I recall that
particular evening to have been dark, but clear. Balmy. I remember feeling sufficiently warm and 'settled', as I made my way
north-westerly,
guided by the lights of the town.
Rituals sizzled
in the space between my
ears, behind my eyes.
'Magnetic', the bouncing,
pounding pop-house track, danced in
my mind, as I gazed across
the Gardens to the various eateries and bars, teaming with
Saturday-nighters; The lyrics
“There's a world outside that we've never seen/ Can you
feel it too?” taunting me. The
track 'In Our Blood' echoed
this sentiment, with its anthem “It's in our blood/ It's in our blood/ It's in our
blood/ In our blood tonight”,
soaring over a
punchy beat and a
twinkling, rhythmic
synth melody.
There was definitely an energy in the air, with the population
heading to bars, restaurants, and clubs, for their Saturday evenings,
blissfully unaware of other people's journeys and fates, nor the
journeys and fates of their own lives, after this night. And why
would they even have considered this? The fears and uncertainty of
tomorrow was just that – tomorrow's problem. The air was thick with
vibrancy and assuredness.
Nowhere on the album was this feeling better portrayed that night than in the
tracks 'Ritual 1' and it's successor 'Last Forever'. I've always held a strong fondness for this couplet,
with 'Ritual 1' acting as an introduction to 'Last Forever', as I really admire how
effortlessly and wonderfully the tracks bleed into each other. So
majestic is their relationship, that it gives a transitory feel to
the mid-point in the album. I remember being suitably lifted from my
quandaries at this point in my journey. But, more specifically, the lyrics of the track
'Last Forever', seemed to speak of a larger concept – that now was the time to celebrate life and not to be concerned
with tomorrow; “Now that we're here/ we feel so alive/ We could
make it last forever/ We could waste time together”. I could
almost hear this message being sung from the masses in the bars and
restaurants, as I passed. Because, that was just it – that was the
time to be alive, to play innocently in the follies of a Saturday
night, away from fear.
So, why wasn't I out frolicking with the others, embracing the
wonders of the night, instead of transporting dirty clothes,
hermit-like, to the dreary laundrette? Could I not feel it too?
Well, apart from my affliction with shyness, preventing me from being actively social, it's highly likely that I favoured the menial task
of laundry, as I deemed it more necessary to maintaining my immediate comfort, at that particular point in time. I would like to say that
my attitudes have changed over the years, but, alas no, as the
smaller things in life still beset my daily existence and prevent me
from accomplishing my dreams. This, of course, frustrates me no end. It's as if I'm constantly in conflict with my desires and earthly
requirements. I grow angry and weary of the emotional strain this
takes on me, as I constantly regret missed opportunities, especially
when I have felt so fired up in the first instance. I feel like I'm always on the
brink of starting something, something great, but then yield.
I am reminded of a previous dream.
I forcibly activate some strain of confidence. I raise my sticks, ready to strike the opening beat. Cut to black. I am suddenly awake.
The dream itself was a vague representation of when I had once been a drummer in a band. But it now, clearly, takes the form of another perception; I am so constantly consumed by the anticipation
to 'start', that I never actually start at all. I never actually 'hit the beat'.
It's fascinating, listening to Rituals now in 2020, seven years after
it's release, and really feeling the innocence streaming from it. It's soo representative of another time, a distant time compared to this current time of restriction and uncertainty. The feeling of lost innocence and liberty has become somewhat
heightened, as a result. I look back over my shoulder and see the heavy
shackles of shyness and regret dragging far behind me, shackles that
have bound me for a long, long time. Since long before that night in
2013 have these binds held me captive, which, in turn, has led to
long stints of sadness and despair. If only I could have been more
confident, made changes, or, made the 'right' decisions earlier,
then, perhaps, I'd feel less alone today. Perhaps, if I'd ditched the
laundry and gone to the bars, to be among the people that night, I'd
be happy. Perhaps there will soon be a day where I can, once again,
say with confidence “now that I'm here, I feel so alive!”.
Perhaps.
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