Musical Musings

My late mother used to teach Highland dancing, which should not be confused with that abomination called "Scottish Country Dancing". Regrettably I have no musical talent whatsoever, although I like to listen, as I suspect may be gleaned from this blog. In my youth I had two experiences that really reinforced the idea that I should not aim for a career in music. (Although let's be honest, Sid was hardly a guitar player, even after seeking advice from Lemmy, yet he gained a certain notoriety, did he not?)

Firstly in singing classes in junior school the teacher eventually found it necessary to walk amongst us listening to our dulcet tones individually. This led to him offering me the post of official critic - I stood at the front and listened and then was allowed to comment at the end of each song. My father was much amused and it was years before I realised why.

Somewhat older I tried out for the school year band and was moved to various instruments on a downward spiral of difficulty; the nadir coming when they realised my incapabilities did not even cover the triangle and I was politely informed that my services were not needed, nor were ever likely to be!

Unfortunately I went on to find that not only could I not play but dancing was also beyond me. It was beginning to look as if my dreams of fame and fortune as a rock star were beyond my reach and the likelihood of young girls putting posters of me on their bedroom walls was minimal.Which is a pity as when later collaborating with my good friend Kielan we came up with the ideal name for a punk band that, although it would undoubtedly have caused a certain lessening of the likelihood of being on the Beeb, would have rung in the ears of youth creating a vast spread of fans all eager to listen to, and buy everything associated with,

"Vic Vomit and the Vile Farts".