Wille and the Bandits flying high

Went to see an amazing band on Saturday.  Wille and the Bandits.  They were playing in The Chichester Inn. It's only a small venue but their voices and presence and pure musicianship made you  feel as though you were somewhere much bigger.  I live in constant awe of musicians.  Their fingers flowed and plucked and strummed while they sang and harmonised and seamlessly switched from instrument to instrument.  For someone as unmusical as me, it seems like an extraordinary, almost magical talent.  Ninesh is the drummer in a band too. And I feel the same when I watch him (only prouder of course! ) so lost in the rhythm and the moment and the song that if you asked him what he had actually played, he probably couldn't tell you.  Looks amazing to me though. Drumming is in his blood and he can't hear a song without tapping out a rhythm with his fingers, a bit unnerving when you are driving.   With the exception of me, our house is quite a musical house.  Mia and Ninesh and Joss all walk around humming or singing songs with varying degrees of tunefulness.  Sometimes I think how harmonious life might be if they were all singing the same song, especially on long car journeys.  Our living room is full of vinyl records and drum kit and Mia's flute and the rest of our house is full of the latest hits, blaring out of Joss's bedroom ( some of which barely register as actual music, I feel).  But there is something about music that brings people together.  Some of my friends sing in a local community choir and they love it.  One of my best friends is a magical flute player and another has just joined a ukulele group, while Mandy, who should be writing this blog with me, is having singing lessons. And I envy them. Because  the music and the singing and the playing are an escape and for just a little while, they are flying.   But when the music is good enough and the musicians talented enough, they take their audience with them.  And on Saturday night, with Wille and his Bandits, we were flying too!

When I was much younger, I used to learn the clarinet.  I struggled with it for many years but I am not a natural musician.  My teacher, one the kindest, warmest people you could ever meet, tried his best but there were moments when even he gave up.  At one point, we turned the page in my music book and looked at the next tune I was meant to play.
" Oh," he smiled, " you're playing one of my favourites next."
Then looking at me and back at the music, he paused.
" On second thoughts," he said , " why don't we play something different!"