Musical memories

Another overcast day, but at least it was warm. I made a couple of shopping trips before and after lunch and worked again on editing my Sunday sermon as I wasn't quite satisfied with it, Something wasn't quite right. I checked the Gospel reading - about the beheading of John the Baptist and realised that I'd made an error in identifying the text. The same story appears in Matthew, Mark and Luke. Mark's version which we read this year isn't prefaced by the story of John's disciples questioning Jesus. My sermon made reference to this as if it had just been read when it hadn't. That was the something which wasn't quite right. Once I realise this it was necessary to re-edit my text to avoid the confusion. It wasn't difficult thankfully, and I'm glad I spotted it in good time.

Owain came over this evening, and we celebrated his birthday with a mini cake baked by Clare covered with chocolate and strawberries, as requested. Then we watched the first in the second series of 'Arctic Murders' on More Four's Walter Presents. Nice clear north German dialogue, easy for Owain and Clare to follow, if not me, more in need of subtitles. Then there was a remarkable documentary on Sky Arts about the Trojan record label, under which West Indian music in the form of pop singles were imported straight from Jamaica on demand from the first generation of homesick expats. Popularity spread from black pop fans to white. Eventually UK ska and reggae recordings were made and distributed with a huge impact on the British pop scene from the late sixties onward. 

When I was Curate in charge of St Andrews Penyrheol in the early seventies, the Tuesday night church disco often played the latest black records ska, reggae and American soul music, thanks to Ricky Dee, aka Richard Williams, whose brother was a leading pop musician and entrepreneur. This is why I found many of the songs played and talked about during the documentary familiar, although in those days this wasn't the kind of music I listened to. It was only when we lived in St Paul's Bristol that reggae become part of my daily musical soundscape. It was amazing to listen to people interviewed who had either been responsible for bringing the music to the British public, or actually made it. Most of them still had their untainted rural Jamaican accents and patois. It brought back good memories of a very formative time of my first decade in ministry.