Flaming Lips

To the SECC on Friday night to see the Flaming Lips. I had been introduced to them properly by my son after he had sent me 'The Soft Bulletin' for my fathers day gift. I had heard of them via their other popular album awhile back, about a Japanese girl defeating a robot. (you couldn't make this stuff up really could you ?). I loved it instantly. The music, melodies, storyline about saving the world. It was perfect music to drive to work with.

So when I saw the advert for their gig in Glasgow I sent a text to both my son and daughter. "Want to come and see Flaming Lips with me - my treat." I had an instant affirmative from both within minutes. They are regular music goers and probably have already notched up more live gigs than I have had breakfasts. In the 1960's we were a bit limited in the London suburbs and you had to consider travelling into the city for clubs such as the 51 Club, aka Ken Colyers, or to Les Cousins to catch the latest singers on the folk and blues circuit.

It felt good going off with my two wonderful adult children, well nearly and recently adult children, to share a gig that we all wanted to enjoy. It was a shock to my system. The SECC is like a barn with hi tec infrastructure that looks like the innards of a factory or air plane hangar. I should have realised when I saw my ticket number that we were to be among 5000 others. We arrived in time to catch the end of the support which was a really weird couple making 1970's experimental electronic loop music. I asked my son if he wanted a pint. This was a very significant question. I had tried subtley on a number of occasions during the past years to get him to bond with me over a beer. He never has. This night it worked. Yes, he said nonchalantly. Next I turned to my daughter and with trepidation that she was going to ask for a diet coke, she said "What sort of beer is it ?" Well you could have knocked me over with a boa feather. I told her it was just beer. "I'll have one then." Now, not having been to an event as big as a mini festival in my life, I was fascinated by the bar. They didn't have a beer pump or a button to press to servce a single pint. They had a mega beer machine that could fill a dozen pints at the same time. This commitment to getting the beer to the customer faster than you could pour a glass of water was absolutely stunning. So we stood, proud father and his children, supping pints of lager.

This is significant in more ways than one. It was in 1963 when I was introduced to my first beer at the tender age of 16. We were returning home from visiting my grandparents in Sanderstead, Surrey and my older brother asked my father to drop him off in Purley. My dad asked him where he was off to at 3pm in the afternoon. To a folk club he said. Why dont you take your brother ? Heres a10/- (ten shillings) note each, go and enjoy yourselves. I don't know if my brother wanted his younger sibling with him, but it came with a ten bob note. He took me to the Under the Olive Tree coffee bar in South Croydon, just down from the bus garage. Each Sunday afternoon they had a folk and blues club in the cellar. That was when I first came across Long John Baldry. Now known for his somewhat mushy soul songs that made him popular, he was standing alone on the small stage down below in this cellar and singing the blues. No accompaniment, just him and the blues for half an hour. He was stunning. And that was the start of my musical life. Forty five years later and I am still listening to the music of my roots alongside other stuff. Anyway the significance of this was that my brother took me off to a pub afterwards and bought me my first beer. A half pint of Red Barrel. He then taught me the rudiments of paying for your round. This was a rite of passage that I shall never forget.

I wonder if thats what happened for me and my children on Friday night ?