When I was 17 I met a boy. For the record, he was a lovely boy. I don't see as much of him as I would like to any more, I suppose life gets in the way. For a few years we were very much in love. He was ace. The best thing about this boy was that he pushed my musical boundaries. He made me listen to things that had never even entered my frame of reference. He took my love of Green Day and showed me the joys of Skunk Anansie, Live, Radiohead, A, Midget and Therapy? (To name but a few!)Then when life got in the way, and we both moved on and I met someone who hated my taste in music. I spent the next three years speaking to someone every day who thought I only ever listened to miserable music sung by Northerners. So I stopped talking about music. This is not a sob story or a cry for help you understand. This is a simple statement of some facts.
Just before Christmas I was in the pub, having a drink with someone I didn't know very well, and I was talking about Rock City. My musical home. Being from a crappy little town just outside Nottingham I've seen more bands in that place that I'd care to count, I've pulled a pint at the bar, been sick in the corner and fallen asleep in the loo...more than once. Anyway, I digress. I was telling my friend that the last time I was in Rock City I had requested a song by Therapy? and had been told that I needed to go downstairs to the "Classic rock" room to hear such songs...What. The. Fuck. In my head Therapy? sounds as fresh as it did in 1994. And in my head, 1994, was not that long ago. It was. However I realised I'd made a new friend for life when the acquaintance I was having a drink with nearly dropped his pint, his face lit up and he exclaimed "you know Therapy? !" I've spent the last three weeks talking about nothing but music with him, going over some serious blasts from the past, and getting very over excited about The Long Pigs (remember them?), Stiff Little Fingers, Midget, Skunk Anansie, Queens of The Stone Age, Iggy and the Stooges, Phoenix and of course, Therapy?
I suppose this post is not so much a pontification about what is cool now, or what will be cool in the future (may I direct you all back to my post about Michael Kiwanuka?) but about being grateful to those people who formed your taste in music, and value your thoughts about things that are important to you. Its a love letter to standing up and being counted, and loving what you love, regardless of whether anyone else gets it. Just never stop talking about it. What you like is good...because you like it. And fuck everyone else.
I suppose this is also a well over due apology and letter of thanks to that boy who met 17 year old Zi, and helped me turn into this. You know who you are, and you did more to help me become who I am than you'll ever know. I'm so glad you're happy. I'm happy too. I'm sorry if I ever hurt you, but as you're mother once said to me, "it'll all come out in the wash." Look after yourself, hug your loved ones extra tight, and lets go out and have a rave soon? Yea?