by Simon Hope

Travels and music

We are back. Simon Hope here again to represent the Youth of Bolton! Whether that is a good idea you can discuss amongst yourselves...or drop us an Email and get yourselves involved!

Anyway, pressing matters... January is upon us and the majority of the population is probably either fighting over discounted items in a chaotic gladiatorial arena of shopping or nursing the hangover of a lifetime. Let's start this year on a positive note however with some advice to get you through the first month of the New Year.

1 Don't get trampled

2 Try out some new music

Number 2 takes me back to November of 2011. It's time for you to expand your horizons and your musical taste! Let me get you started...

Let me preface the following madness with an important statement. I'm very Northern. I've lived in Bolton for all of my life and I've rarely ventured out of our beloved town. I like the cold, I like the rain. “You're crazy!” I hear you cry. Perhaps, but I love our land for what it is. I like pasties and pies and I'd probably even wear a flat cap and not try to be all ironic about it; As I said, very Northern.

In November of 2011 however I packed a bag of essentials (unfortunately no savoury pastries) and set a course for our beloved Capital. London has never been at the top of my list of places to visit, it has always struck me as a bit too busy and fast paced for me, but something called to me on that bitter November morning, something that would could even draw in a damp field-dweller such as myself. It was the chance to see a band I have loved since the last years of Secondary School, a chance to see a band that had a major impact in my life and helped to shape the person I am today, and at one of the finest venues our little island and perhaps the world has to offer no less. I had tickets to see the Cure at the Royal Albert Hall.

I hear a collective “Who?” spouting from the mouths of the youth of Bolton. A little background information for those not in the know. Formed in 1979 The Cure is the musical vehicle for a Mr Robert Smith, a cuddly middle aged man who wears too much make-up and has hair like a spiders web with some boot polish chucked on it. To me, a genius who has spent his career see-sawing between writing giddy pop songs and dark, melancholic works of art. An idol for those just a little outside the norm, weirdoes, freaks. In other words, me. I won't bore the reader and dwell too much on such things but the point I'm trying to make is, this band is important to me, and important enough for me to go out of my comfort zone and travel down south to see my first ever concert.

I board the coach on that Tuesday morning and I sit, for hours. If sitting was an Olympic sport I'd be telling you about the weight of gold medals round me neck but it isn't. I digress...So I read, I eat, I sit staring out the window as blurs of colours, cars and plants go whizzing by. It's probably a good time to mention I had three hours sleep the night before. Body Clock be damned! I tried to sleep; I really did but to no avail. A coach is not a bed let me tell you. My Ipod gets a run-through for a good couple of hours. After hearing the same song for the fourth time in the journey I curse myself for not loading the thing up with more material, but I don't care, not today. I'm going to see the greatest band on Earth. I count myself lucky as I sit. I nearly didn't get to go.

A five thousand odd seating capacity show sold out in minutes. The morning the tickets were released I waited, I waited for those first tickets to show...I didn't get one. I sat in my room a little dejected but otherwise positive. “Next time” I said, but “next times” are few and far between for this band. Fifty-something year old men don't have the energy to play gruelling tours. The last British Cure show was in 2008 and it looked like I may have to wait a few more years to experience one myself. Then came my savour, a German friend who I had known for a couple of years (and also provided the pictures of the RAH) mentioned a friend had a ticket. I tried not to be overcome with excitement in case it didn't pan out, but the evidence is there. I was sitting on that Coach to London. I was going to see them.

I'd prepared. I got directions. Yet on that day London swallowed me whole. I was a tired mind and after an hour of walking round with no success in finding where I was meant to be I was also a tired pair of legs. It was simple enough on paper, get to London, take the tube, and meet up with the person who had my ticket. Life doesn't end up working out like it should on paper. Ten quid in taxi money later and I get to where I want to be. I'm dying for a sit down. The pub arranged for the meeting is packed, I get a seat, and nurse the gaping hole in my toe. A trip to London is the worst time to discover your boots are falling apart and you've been walking on a nail in your shoe for the best part of two hours. Darkness descends on the capital and I start to worry. My ticket is not yet in my possession and the starting time of the show is fast approaching. My anxiety dissipates as amongst the plethora of accents and faces I see a familiar friend...

Later on I'm in the building. The Royal Albert Hall is a truly beautiful place and if anyone ever gives you the opportunity to go snatch that hand off and use it to wave down the nearest form of transport. The pictures, as good as they are, don’t do it justice. Anyway...

The impatience of the crowd begins to build now. People scream and shout as bodies make their way to the stage, only for the crowd to die down as the realisation kicks in they are roadies and crew members. The sense of anticipation is almost tangible as the band finally makes it's way to the stage. The place erupts in cheers. I don't think the reality of what happened ever hit me that night. I'm not sure it even has now, two and a half months later. The band powers through their first album, and I'm transported to 1979, imagining these songs being written by teenagers. The music is as fresh as ever and wouldn't sound out of place in an alternative pub/club/wherever. Poppy, punky, upbeat, brilliance. The eternal youth of the band shines through as they blast out an energetic performance. All too quickly it's intermission. The next two albums were a major departure from their original sound and I have to prepare for the onslaught of emotion and dense sound as the dark, melancholic power swirls round the building, grabbing everyone present and burying itself deep inside of them. The Cure are known for their long shows. Three and a bit hours, 30 odd songs later and it's all over. There are no words to express what just happened and I don't even try. I say my goodbyes and end up sitting in a police station for 9 hours trying to stay awake. It's a long story, and I've already been waffling far too much. I didn't get arrested though, if that's what you were thinking. I make my way home and have one of the best and deepest sleeps of my life. Wow.

What I think you should take away from this wall of words is, that music is powerful. As a young person especially it has the power to grab you by the collar and change you, motivate you, make you feel. Sure, that isn't everyone. Some people just like to dance, some people just like sounds in the background, but as someone who has drawn so much more from it, I say, give it a try. It doesn't have to be the Cure. It can be anyone. Just let an artist pull you in and shake the very foundations of your being. Music also has another power amongst young people. You can make it yourself. Maybe someday you can have that impact on another human being through your own actions. Start a band, get messing with some decks. Anything. Music is powerful. And if you were to buy anything in the January Sales, let it be a Cure CD, give them a try. You don't have to like them, but at least try.

(links) I apologise for blabbing on, but that was the story of my trip to London, one of the most enjoyable and memorable experiences of my life.

One more thing, Rihanna actually sampled the Cure in her song S&M, and I'd bet you know who she is...Influences, power and passion. It's music.