Bragging Rights

This weekend I went to see Billy Bragg play at Perth's Astor theatre.  I've been a BB fan for over twenty years and like a total groupie could sing all the words to most of the songs.  I even managed to convince my sceptical husband to come along and watched with smug satisfaction as he became a convert over the course of the evening.  

Anyone who has heard of BB will know that he is more than a musician, and is rather a social commentator, political activist and somewhat of a raconteur who can give a great concert.  He campaigns for the voice of the people, resistance against the machine of rampant capitalism and general shit stuff going on in the world.  The first half of the concert was a tribute to Woody Guthrie who has inspired so many of our century's great songwriters, following on with a set of classic tracks from this inspirational entertainer.  Those minor chords just do it for me every time.

But I come away feeling melancholy.  Sad for the slide of social conscience that I realise middle age has bought me, replaced instead with inward focus on my own issues and those of my immediate family.  Sad also for the guitar playing that I never got back to after my first flurry of BB inspired efforts to learn some chords and strum a tune.  A bit (but not much) sad for my son who instead is being forced by me to learn guitar and listen to my rants about inequality.

Hopefully that evening will recharge me to come back to what is important in life, and maybe even pick up that Ibinez one day soon again.

It seems like you have changed, from red to blue....

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