Lessons in love and other eighties musical confessions

From Level 42 to Curiosity killed the Cat, the Eurythmics and Wham! The musical rabbit hole is my favourite kind of writing rabbit hole to fall down.

Photo by Abigail Lynn on Unsplash

Hello! How are you? How’s your week been?

By the time this lands I’m hoping I’ll either be standing on Penarth pier looking out to sea or perched on my sister’s sofa looking at the sea through the window of her living room. Or more likely, we’re still in the car. All ahead of settling the curly haired middle child into his room at university, but that’s not where my head is right now.

The thing about writing memoir is that I see it as permission to lose myself down all manner of rabbit holes and my favourite is a musical rabbit hole, especially when it distracts from the day’s reality, like the 19-year-old and his version of packing.

Hitting play on Wilson Philips ‘Hold On’ Spotify Radio on Monday (sparked by the cousin’s WhatsApp group mentioned in last week’s post) led to hearing Level 42’s Lessons in Love. This promptly reminded me of my first gig. I don’t know about yours but mine was Level 42 at the Oxford Apollo in November 1985.

I went as my brother’s plus one after his friend dropped out last minute. He barely uttered a word to me (and nor me him) as mum dropped us off at the door and he made his way determinedly to our seats towards the front of the theatre, me trailing behind not having a clue what to do.

What was going to happen? What do you do at a gig? Do you have to sit? Can you stand and dance even if you have a seat?

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I was taking it all in, watching everyone for clues and beyond excited. And all on a Sunday evening with school the next day.

We found our seats and waited. There was a polite but get on with it energy as the support band did their bit and then bam. Light show, smoke machine (I could be making that bit up), synths and bass colliding and on troop Level 42 led by slap-bass maestro Mark King.

And because Google is my friend on this quest I’ve discovered the set list for that night. The opening track was The Chinese Way and they probably closed with The Sun Goes Down (Living it up). This level of detail might seem a little over the top, but I like to know these things.

About halfway through the opener - The Chinese Way - my brother elbowed me in the ribs, stood up and stalked past me to the aisle with a throwaway ‘come on then’. I watched as he joined the throng of people making their way in that funny not-running but not-walking way to the standing area in front of the stage. I scuttled after him and stood wide eyed, ear drums bursting, eyes fixed on the stage.

It was already a hot sweaty mess, the rest of the gig is a bit of a blurb and I loved it.

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Musical nostalgia mixed with sentimentality

I was 14, my brother two years older and I didn’t know Level 42 other than recognising Living it Up having heard it through the walls of his bedroom. The energy was infectious, I was on a natural high for days and spent the next evening recording my brother’s Level 42 vinyl onto cassette tapes.

It was heaven for this teenager. I loved the Friday night Funk a duck disco at the community centre where, with all the other local teenagers, we’d take turns dancing while desperately trying to look like we were a bit too cool for a community centre disco while blagging our way past the bouncers into the bar.

At junior school I’d begged my parents to let me go to Saturday morning disco dancing classes. Mum agreed - reluctantly. My Saturdays were usually spent in piano and violin lessons while concerts usually involved me and other small musicians performing preludes and sonatas to an enthusiastic, supportive if polite audience made up of parents and friends. Not learning dance moves to Ottowan’s ‘Hands Up’.

Thinking about this first gig opens a door in my brain and soon I’m remembering my first subscriber issue of Smash Hits with Annie Lennox on the cover.

I’d commit lyrics from Smash Hits to memory and cut out photos of Ben Volpeliere-White from Curiosity killed the Cat, Duran Duran’s John Taylor, Madonna and blue-tac them alongside Tom Cruise mixed in with the fashion pages ripped from Just Seventeen. A sprawling teenage gallery wall taking over the space next to my bed in our rented cottage.

In all honesty, I was a bit disappointed it wasn’t John Taylor or Andrew Ridgeley on the front cover of my first subscriber copy. The Eurythmics weren’t my go-to listen but I loved blasting the thumping bass, guitar and clashing brass of ‘Would I lie to you’ through the orange foam headphones of my blue Walkman, bought with my 14th birthday money in Boots in Oxford one August Saturday in 1985 (I wrote about that day here in ‘The Blue Walkman’).

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The Blue Walkman

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Musical throwbacks that help the writing to flow

Putting this musical jigsaw together helps me to order those early to mid 1980s years. It also brings a lightness and a bit of fun to a period that didn’t feel light at all.

How can I not smile at the memory of an 11-year old me sitting crossed legged with a friend in the garden of the village shop we were living in while memorising the lyrics printed on the back of Wham’s Fantastic! Mum and dad serving customers in the shop while Young Guns echoed through the open living room windows.

These early to mid 1980s were turbulent years for our family. We’d relocated away from our hub of family and friends and moved four times in under three years. It was a precarious time and we were a long way in every sense from the solid, secure, happy home we’d moved from.

I remember being silent during a lot of the eighties, at home and in school. Observing what was going on around me, picking up snatches of grown-up conversations at home and lurking on the fringes of friendship groups at school. I was uncertain of where I fitted in other than when I was sitting on my bed reading Smash Hits and Just Seventeen while listening to tapes on my Walkman and Radio 1.

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My words are in an actual book

I’d written about buying the blue Walkman for my 14th birthday when submissions for the fourth London Writers Salon anthology opened. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I hit submitted an extract.

I got in and my words are now printed in this fabulous hardback book: Writing in Community, An anthology of the 4th year by London Writers Salon writers. The Blue Walkman is on page 94.

I’m thrilled that my name sits amongst an amazing bunch of short story, poetry and memoir writers. This writing community got me writing in 2000 and keeps me writing today with confidence boosting, thought provoking, funny chats in the different writing rooms, live podcasts and Writers Hour.

I’m also really pleased these words are out there. Not just for the 53-year-old me but also for the 14-year-old me who – with Annie Lennox’s help – was able to transport herself to somewhere other than our rented cottage in a village with a cemetery but no church, a post box but no post office and just a handful of houses on her 14th birthday.

The anthology is available to buy here, and the digital version will be available soon (I’ll share the link when I have it) and you can check out the previous three editions here along with other LWS merchandise.

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One of the reasons I write is because I spent so long observing and internalising my life. Writing it out is my way of making sense of it all and letting a lot of it go. I didn’t sit down with the aim of writing a book or even seeing my words in print. I just wanted to write and I guess I still do.

Thanks, as always, for reading, and jump into the comments with any first gig/cassette/vinyl memories.

Harriet

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Music trivia

(this is the tip of the iceberg, there are plenty more memories to come)

First cassette: 1982, Complete Madness, Madness (although for transparency, I wanted to buy the Kids from Fame but was dissuaded by my brother and sisters)

First single: 1981, Shakin’ Stevens, You drive me crazy

First LP: 1983, Wham, Fantastic!

First gig: 1985, Level 42, Oxford Apollo

First stadium gig: 1986, Queen, Wembley Stadium on the It’s a Kind of Magic tour supported by The Alarm, INXS and Status Quo

Most recent gig: Elvis Costello, Leeds City Varieties, September 2024