Why I Wasn’t Famous

22

Saturday 09 November, 2013 by Uncle Spike

When I was a scrawny little lad at primary school, my mum had thoughts of betterment for her second child. It’s a natural ‘parenty’ type of thing to do…

From the evidence she had gained from numerous unsuccessful parents evenings, she had her doubts, and rightly so as it turned out, that I was ever destined to become the next Stephen Hawking, Michael Douglas, George Best, or even George Michael. In her wisdom, mum decided, as many parents do, to try and make said small person into a serious musician at least; you know, those beautiful people who make beautiful music for the rest of us heathens to enjoy.

Anyway, at the beginning of term, I rode the 5km to school on my trusty old bike, charged with making my own arrangements for music lessons as a path for my obvious future career in pop or classical stardom. Mum had envisioned that by the end of the week, I would be learning to play the flute, or the violin, or perhaps even the piccolo.

Now I would never say my mum was not pretty bright, but come on lady… you trusted me, the eternal rebel with make arrangements that ‘you’ had obviously approved (or that’s what I told the school music teacher) – seriously??

Needless to say, all ended brilliantly for me. Less well for mum.

That Friday my music career commenced, as I joined 3-4 others who were learning to play the DRUMS. Oh dear, poor mum. She was not happy.

Was I any good? Not in the slightest… not exactly totally useless, but bordering on the edge of the precipice known as “able to generate music for the tone deaf”. All that money on music classes, special ‘classical’ drumsticks didn’t go to waste though… I played percussion in public within 18 months!

Now it should be noted that Uncle Spike does not tell porkies… I did play in public, sort of. There was the end of year school concert, or something like that, with all the orchestra, choir etc doing their bit to impress their bored-looking, but proud parents who were sat on some rather uncomfy school hall seats back in the mid 70’s.

THAT’S ME, AT AT THE BACK

At the end of 90 very long minutes listening to young kids massacre some favourite classical melodies and torturing both their chosen instruments and their audience in equal share, I rose slowly from my humble stool at the back of the orchestra, and proudly went ‘ting’ on my triangle.

Yep, that was it, the culmination of 18 months training, expense and hearing loss from endless ‘at home’ practice sessions. My entire party piece was a single ‘ting’ on a ruddy triangle!!

All the best bits with the drums n stuff went to this other kid. To be fair, the boy could play, period. But who cares I guess if you are beaten by a winner, eh?  The lad went on to be a session drummer for some pretty famous bands! I did not. I did play the spoons in a bar once when I was 18 and drunk… but that was it on the musical career front for Uncle Spike.