Messiah and me

This is another photo I love. It's all blurry I know but it's the shiny bits that are attractive. This is Jason lighting a fag, stage right. The fact that it's not sharp and detailed to me is irrelevant. It's the reflections of the light on the equipment and the smoke and the kaleidoscope effect. I'm posting this because the band themselves have got all the conventionally good photos for their own use.

Meanwhile I've just spoken to Richard. He wants me to take photos of him and Abi playing as an acoustic duo for publicity purposes. Also if you remember I used to run a music Showcase evening for new talent in the music bizz. Well Richard has asked me to help out running a new version of it at a more central city venue. Fiddlers Elbow. It's a small bar dedicated to music. Get thirty people in there and it's packed. The local paper wants to do a story on it and I'm taking the photos. That'll be this Thursday evening. Life? Life is great. Give me more. I can't get enough of it. There's so much to do and so little time to do it.
I asked Jamie Da Hat (my son) if he wanted to come with me. (He loves Abi) It was like getting blood out of a stone to get any enthusiasm out of him.
"It'll be great. We'll have a great time."
"OK if you want."
"No, what do you want?"
"I don't mind."
Shit! I wish I had a dad like me. Some one who took me to see bands, someone who introduced me to famous people, got me back stage passes. Put me on a foot hold in the music business.
(actually my Dad is really great even if he has absolutely no interest in what I want to do) But you know it seems like it's the wrong way round. I should be the one who's saying "I've never heard of this or that band." I'm an old fogey now. But I could bet next weeks wages that my children have never heard of "The Arctic Monkeys". The next big band.
So what am I to do? My children will be wearing slippers and cardies and getting old before me. Hopefully they'll read this and leave some horrendous and indignant comment. We'll have a major row about me insulting them, and I'll feel great because I know they're alive. They have passion. But somehow I doubt it. Sometimes I feel, as a Father, it's my job to provoke them. Stir up some rebellion in them. Make their blood boil. I know it sounds cruel. But I'm looking for passion. Not indifference. I know my children wont be clones of me. But Hell! I'm going to poke and prod them until they react. I want them to share my enthusiasm for life. If not for the same reasons. They can go their own ways, but I want them to do it with passion. I don't want them to limp meaninglessly through their lives.

And that goes for you too. I know you're reading this. The stats tell me. Don't think you are getting off the hook that lightly. I know it's easy to sit back and let things slide. But this is your one chance to do something. You finish work, get home and slob. It's been a hard day. Well so fucking what? Every day is a hard day. Just think what do you want to achieve today?

Well get out there and do it...................

Rock on dudes