I’ve never found it all that helpful to ruminate on things long since consigned to some forever-uneditable history book. So, as a general rule, I try not to regret too much in my life. I do however, regret walking away from one of my life’s biggest passions: Music.
I miss the music every time an old friend tells me about a new band he’s started or a big concert he’s promoting and asks me to write about it. I miss it every time a band I’ve never met before somehow tracks me down online to ask if I’d review their new album.
I miss it every time I turn to both camps with a certain sense of sorrow and say, I’m sorry, I don’t do that anymore.
I’m not sure when -or how- it happened. I’m not sure whether I woke up one day and found that music was no longer a significant part of my life, or whether it slowly ebbed away, washed out by a tide which gradually brought up more and more things to occupy my time: Business, work, writing a novel, life.
It just sort of happened. I found I could no longer claim to be a music journalist, or a concert promoter, or anything more than a guy with a Spotify account.
The worst part? It happened without me even noticing. My career span off in one direction, my social life went off in another, and before I knew it, music had been left behind, languishing in the dust of my life as an occasional afterthought, or as a flashback to times gone by.
I mean seriously, apart from developing a somewhat unexpected infatuation with Ellie Goulding, the last time I really went out and discovered a new artist that I fell in love with was 2012.
Yet like an addict without a recovery program who finds himself drawn to the nearest den of iniquity, I gradually found myself slipping back to the brink of musical obsession.
I’d tell another band or promoter that I no longer had an outlet to write about them, and I’d feel a little despondent. I’d listen to a friend telling me about some local band he’d seen on a random Friday night, and I’d feel a certain sense of jealously. I’d skim through some old reviews I’d once written, and before I knew it, I was hooked again.
I wanted back in, and I wanted it in a big way. The only questions was how.
I’ve always avoided posting music reviews on my main blog because I somehow felt they deserved their own dedicated platform. Yet setting one up, or even pitching editors of existing sites and magazines, is a bigger commitment than I have the time for right now.
Then I remembered, this is my blog and I can do whatever the hell I like with it.
So I will.
I’m going to start weeding through the web to find new music, getting back to all those people to whom I once had to say ‘I’m sorry, I don’t do that anymore,’ and instead saying ‘Hey, I do that again!’ I’m going to ask friends for recommendations, find gigs to check out, really rediscover my love of a good tune and find out just what the hell I’ve been missing these last two years.
Until that happens though, here’s Ellie Goulding, subject of my year’s most bizarre infatuation.