A visit and then a disagreement

A couple of days ago, three weeks into the occupation of our new house on the south coast, we received our first (semi-formal) visit from friends rather than family.

In typing “(semi-formal)” and “friends” in the above context I was referring obliquely to the fact that, having never previously met the visitors concerned, close friends of my relatively new better half, I was conscious of needing to be on my best behaviour in the cause of seeking to create a favourable impression.

In the event I had nothing to worry about.

Our little group seemed to slip easily into a general conversation and (as hosts) the Memsahib and your author took our arrivals upon the inevitable tour of the property, “explained away” the relative chaos and dishevelled array of plastic crates, furniture and fixtures & fittings littering the manor house and then took a short helicopter ride down to the farm on the southerly end of the estate where Ron, our manager, showed us around the paddocks housing our sheep, goats and retired thoroughbred horses.

Later on, after tea & cakes in the main drawing room, the ladies withdrew to the kitchen to make another pot of tea – or, perhaps, rather to have a private session catching up upon their respective family news & gossip – and I was left to pass the time of day with my fellow member of the male race.

After a while the subjects under review came round to our hobbies and interests. He was a soccer man – I am a rugby equivalent – and, as regards music and the kinds of public events that we were wont to attend, my companion (I should estimate aged in his late forties)  confessed that he wasn’t greatly interested in rap music and the like.

This was proverbial “music to my ears”(an ironic phrase given the topic) and in responding to him I was able to deploy one of my time-honoured favoured tales of how – about thirty years ago – my brother began organising a five-yearly “survey” of his friends’ musical tastes.

Under it we were all required to send him separate lists of our Top Ten “tracks” and Top Ten “albums” of all time.

The first time he sent the questionnaire out, I called him up to ask whether he meant us to send back a list of our personal favourite tracks or, rather, what we regarded as the best tracks …?

He replied enigmatically “Whatever you like …” – i.e. it entirely was up to each of us to decide.

Having pondered the issue, I made the decision that I would only permit myself a single track and/or album by any artiste in each of the two categories (otherwise I felt my lists might tend to look slightly gauche, e.g. were I to choose nine Van Morrison songs in my list of Top Ten all-time favourite tracks).

My far-reaching self-realisation occurred five years later, when my brother repeated his exercise.

When I compared my lists of Top Ten tracks and Top Ten albums from five years previously with those I had just chosen for my brother’s second “review”, there was barely a change.

By registering this fact I came to appreciate for the first time that essentially my taste(s) in music had remained unchanged since circa 1985.

Or rather – to put it another way – from about 1985 it was apparent that I had stopped trying to keep up with the latest trends in music – presumably because, from somewhere in my mid-thirties, I had subconsciously decided that I was perfectly and permanently satisfied with “the music of my relative youth” and therefore couldn’t be bothered any more to listen seriously to anything new after that.

If you like, I had “grown up” and – in the words of the Bible (at 1 Corinthians 13:11, New King James Version):

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things.”

Our conversation moved on to theatre and concert visits.

My companion said he loved going to the theatre – and also to performances by stand-up comedians.

As regards concerts, he was generally less keen.

In particular, he suddenly launched into a strong attack on the Rolling Stones – a band I respect greatly.

In his view it was totally unacceptable that they continued to tour the world (after fifty-plus years) charging “top dollar” for their concerts.

Okay – he continued – he understood that mounting such tours cost a mountain of money, but why – after all this time, and all the riches that the Rolling Stones had each personally accumulated – could they not do their fans and the public a favour by going out and playing their concerts at rock-bottom prices?

(He argued this, it seemed, for two main reasons).

Firstly, these days they couldn’t possibly be still performing as they had in their heyday.

Secondly, if they charged – for example – no more than £25 per ticket, they could attract a whole new range of new and younger fans.

I found my companion’s lines of argument flawed and his general thrust ridiculous.

In my view, the Rolling Stones – and some other veterans like them – play the music they love and are steeped in because “it’s what they do”. I agree they don’t need the money, but in my view that’s not a consideration for them.

If a law was passed saying they couldn’t charge for their concerts, they’d still go out and play.

But secondly – and more importantly – it’s all about capitalism.

Or rather, supply and demand.

The Rolling Stones can charge up to £175 per ticket – or whatever it is they do – because people are perfectly prepared to part with that much to see them.

End of message.

I was moved to pen this post today by spotting this review of a recent Rolling Stones concert by Kevin Perry overnight upon the website of – THE INDEPENDENT

[Author’s warning: at the time of posting this blog I was able to link to the above review – it is entirely possible that subsequently The Independent newspaper website may have restricted access to it by requiring a subscription of some sort to be paid before anyone can read it.]