The Music Along The Stretch

Maybe I should change my route.

In a recent post I mentioned the Heywood Stretch, a road along which I often take my dog for a walk. Sticking to the same route at least affords you the chance to observe any changes. Seasonally, I mean, rather than roadworks.

The other week I could see up ahead of me the turbines on the moors (the turbines that found their way into the first draft of a poem that I’ve posted). The moors were white, layered with days-old snow that never made it down to these lower reaches, apart from an ever so slight dusting of the fields that must have been spindrift on the wind.

Maybe I should widen my taste.

I’m sure that there’s lots of great new music out there just waiting for me to discover it. But when I want to pass a certain amount of time I always seem to return to the era I love the best, which basically runs from the mid-sixties to mid-seventies.

I was doing just this on another trip there when winter made the most of my complacency, ambushing me in a sudden brief snowstorm that had me blinking furiously to navigate a path through the fury that had engulfed me. It was only brief but it was freezing, and I couldn’t help but smile at the irony as Ray Davies was telling me to

Put on your slippers and sit by the fire

When I got back I followed his instructions mostly to the letter.

I warmed myself with a coffee as I sat listening to this box set that I’ve just managed to pick up on eBay for a fifth of the price it normally goes for.

Listening to the vocal harmonies of the group through headphones, you can really appreciate John Phillips’ gift for arrangement. And what voices Cass and Denny, in particular, had.

The very next day the dog and I worked the Stretch again. This time there was no snow and no biting wind, but still it seemed that winter was hanging on for dear life, defying spring’s rightful claim to the throne.

Later that night, deja vu: I’d had another delivery.

This time, I’d managed to get myself a book signed by a Door. Which I suppose is easier than a Door signed by a book.

“Look at this,” I said to my wife Jen. “This is by the drummer from The Doors.” I took her finger and placed it lightly on the signature. “Just think, this was touched by a hand that has rested on the shoulder of Jim Morrison while they shared a beer.

She was distinctly unimpressed, whereas I was falling backwards through eras and decades.

And then I returned to the present.

Tonight, it felt so much better walking the dog. Everything was lighter. It felt like spring had had its coronation, it felt like new beginnings. And maybe there was the psychological aspect too, for we’d just heard the details about how our locked down country is set to open up again.

Good weather and freedom is in sight.

And for this walk I’d changed gear (a little). moving up to the 80’s to listen to The Police. As my journey neared its end, one of Sting’s solo songs came on, Desert Rose. Algerian singer Cheb Mami is on that, giving it a distinctive world music feel. And I’m not sure why but it just seemed appropriate for the moment, as the day settled down with the sun bidding me goodbye whilst also whispering that it won’t be for long.

9 thoughts on “The Music Along The Stretch

  1. Yesssssssss! How cool about the autograph. I know what you mean about touching it and touching the vibes. When we ate at the Hard Rock Cafe in London (our family London-Paris-Rome vacay in the 90s) I roamed the place while waiting for our orders…searching for anything Beatles related. There were plenty of artifacts, but all dutifully encased and untouchable.
    The only thing I could reach and touch was a tiny drum. Of course it was one my least favorite Beatle’s drums – But here’s the thing.
    I leaned high and stretched way over ready to tap it whilst (!) no one was looking and…yes, I did give it a steady tap. So it felt like I touched one of the fab four.
    😎

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I love the pairing of 1.) observations from a recreational walk outdoors with, 2.) musings on music. Fun, also, to find that we share a preference for mid 1960s to mid 1970s music. At 56 years of age, I’ve always mourned the fact that I was too young to participate in the hippie era. I would have been quintessential. ✌🏼🧡🎶

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Quite the musical journey! I get in moods where I want to hear something from a decade I’m feeling nostalgic for (like the 90s or even the 70s). My older brother is permanently mired in music from the 70s.

    Like

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