...If the Lost Masters Albums had been real, these are some of
The memory it evokes: Spying on Dad...1983God I hate moving house. I spend £30 quid buying boxes and gaffa tape and somehow I still find myself using half a dozen black plastic bags. By the end of the day, I'm past caring and just throwing jackets, books, underwear, into the bags and down the stairs with all my other gear.Pulling out a little draw under my bed, I find a collection of videos I don't remember buying. Be ruthless, I tell myself. But moving over titles like, Pretty in Pink, Weird Science and The Lost Boys, my eyes reach a VHS recording that has my Dad's writing scrawled on the back: David Bowie & Queen, Pressure -- Live 1983.Ha! I don't believe it! Suddenly I'm seven and lying I bed. Mum's put me to bed hours ago. But like clock work, as soon as I hear the car pull up in the drive way, and the crunch of gravel as Dad walks up to the door into the house, my heart is racing and it might as well be 9am and time for school.Then a few moments later, I'd hear him climb the stairs and every night I couldn't help but smile. I'd always turn away from the door, pretending to be asleep and in the silence, I'd muffle a giggle as I'd feel his eyes on my back for a few moments, before bringing the door back almost closed (I like a little bit of light).Tonight is different though. He doesn't come up the stairs. I'd turned my back in anticipation but after a while, when I realised that he wouldn't be coming to check on me, I turn to face the shaft of light coming from the world outside my door, frowning.I pull back the covers, the floor was always so cold to touch, and I gently creep out of my room onto the landing. At the top of the stairs I can just see the edge of my dads legs as he sits on the sofa, his polished brogues glinting from the reflection of the TV.I'd be in sooo much trouble if Mum or Dad caught me -- but something about the noise from the telly is different. This isn't what he normally watches. Normally, its boring men talking about boring numbers and stuff, but tonight its music. I think. Strange music....I need to know more.I tip toe half way down the stairs. Now I can see the bald patch on the top of my dad's head, his broad shoulders, his tie falling down his front, the perfect creases in his trousers and those shiny brogues. More importantly though I can see the TV.And I don't get it.This is too much. One day when I'm old enough, maybe Dad will tell me all about it. But I daren't ask now -- cause then he'll know I was up and I'll get into trouble......It seemed so funny to see my smart, balding, slightly overweight dad, watching this man with a moustache and another man who was all painted white and looked like a cartoon alien.... Well he didn't have to tell me about it. Not long after that, I discovered music. I bought all of Queen's tapes and most of Bowie's too...I stayed up all night recording Live Aid and I'm pretty sure Dad stayed up for most of it with me. We went to concerts and when he was too un-cool to hang out with, I went with my friends. I hear my name being called from the bottom of the stairs. Shit, look at the time. Before throwing all the videos into the bin, I carefully place the VHS with my dad's handwriting on it into the side pocket of my jacket. And I don't even own a VHS.
Author: Lostmasters
Keywords: rock history fantasy pop beatles stones u2 prince queen bowie
Added: July 12, 2008