From time to time nowadays you can find me in a small crowd, in a small club, usually somewhere in east London, watching my son’s band playing a gig. If any of you have kids who perform, you’ll understand the mix of feelings this induces. Anxiety, of course, a clenched feeling of tension, willing everything to go well. I watch the band, and I watch the crowd, silently urging them to pay attention, to be excited, to respond. I feel pride too, and genuine enjoyment, as the songs are good, and the band play well.
But I must admit that above all I get a flicker of envy, however small the audience, however dingy the venue. I know that this is a difficult time to be in music, and there is less certainty than ever about being able to make a living. I know that these kind of gigs bring discomforts and disappointments and hardships. It’s tough at the bottom. Yet with all that in mind, I still envy them being at this stage when everything is fresh and new, suffused with an aura of innocence, and the excitement of the unknown.
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