Once upon a long long time ago, let’s be honest and say in my youth, I swore that I was not going to be one of those sad grown-ups who live in the past, one of those frequently referring to how good everything was 10 years ago, sighing and saying that everything was much better before and they do not make the same quality films, music, festivals, etcetera any more.
But for a while now I have been noticing that I am living in the past, something last weekend’s activities surely proved. The Saturday had been marked in my calendar long before the summer began and Pappa Kas had agreed to spend quality time with little H, while Slummy Mummy T was drinking wine, catching up with colleagues and dancing to popular music, ehrmm…. I was going to see A-HA in concert, hardly the band of the moment, more the band of yore.
I remember it as clear as if it was yesterday watching MTV via satellite waiting for the synthesizer to play the catching first keys and the cool rotoscope video for “Take on me” start rolling. I wore brown and black strings of leather as wristbands, white sport socks, pale jeans shirts and slightly ripped stonewashed jeans (wops, while writing this I am still wearing stonewashed jeans… well, the fashion moves in cycles, and denim is still hot this autumn/ winter).
Last Saturday I wanted to be taken back to the magic moments of my youth and to relive my first experiences with popular music, fashion and male worshipping. Sadly it was not as expected. What failed?
Instead of having dressed up for a night out, I wore comfy jeans, a sequined cardigan and sensible (yet “funky” )trainers, a typical slummy mummy outfit, and a crime the fashion police might have arrested me for. Luckily the rest of the concert goers were other mummies on a ladies club night out fuelled by red wine and or couples in their early forties re-living their honeymoon days.
When Morten, Magne and Paal entered the stage I truly believed I was in for a magic couple of hours. They stilled looked the part. Magne, the cool synth player, now turned graphic artist, still rock star handsome. Paal still slightly reminded me of a young namesake from the Beatles, and the band member with the most “cred”. While Morten, well he was Morten, the most narcissistic singer I have ever come across, dressed in a shiny tight (bronze coloured) shirt.
I was back in 86’; the songs, the band, their image and all it made me feel was bored and uncomfortable. Bored because I had forgotten how monotonous the music was, and that I never really was that much of a fan. Uncomfortable standing behind some tall farting (yes) middle aged guys, I had no decent toilet to go to, and no bottle of water to quench my thirst. Thank god for my comfy trainers.
When the final song started playing I was already sneaking out from the stadium, longing back home to Little H, Pappa Kas and my CD collection.
Nostalgia is a beautiful thing – as long as you don’t try to re-live it live….