Music plays an important part in my life. Not that I can play an instrument (well, I can play the scales on the piano, with correct fingering) – but I always have music playing during the day whether it be the local radio station, a CD or my iPod.
I like many kinds of music – classical, pop, rock, any kind of strong drum beat – when TaikOz (www.taikoz.com) recently visited Cairns I went along to see and came home with their DVD and the sound of their drums still racing through me - an incredible sight/sound to experience. One of my current favourite CDs is the self-titled album ‘Oceania’ sung entirely in Maori, with a haka or two to get the pulse racing!
However there is one band whose music I will play any time of day or night. In fact, during the drive from Canberra to Cairns theirs was the only music I played for the entire trip. Good thing hubby was driving his own car and listening to his favourite music or there might have been another divorce in the family!
I’m speaking of The Moody Blues, arguably the best progressive rock & roll band to come out of the British Music Invasion of the 1960s.
I first discovered them in 1967 when my sister bought Days of Future Passed, which I borrowed many times. So many times in fact that when she left for Australia she gave me the album!
Between then and 1973 when I took my own journey to Australia and the band decided to take a break for a few years, I had bought and played almost to extinction their next five albums. In fact I had to buy a second copy of ‘To our Children’s Children’s Children’ because I’d played it so much the vinyl was wearing thin.
Then a whole new life opened up in front of me. A new country, no parents to nag me to keep my room tidy (although for the short time I stayed with my sister she did nag a bit) and the discovery that my birthday was no longer smack in the middle of summer but dead centre in winter and that Christmas Day was spent by a pool! Talk about culture shock!
Until 2001 I didn’t forget the Moody Blues – I bought a couple of cassettes to play in my car and later a couple of compilation CDs – but they weren’t the background music to my life during those years. Years of finding my feet in Australia, getting married, divorced (and in the process losing all my records that I’d so carefully brought over with me), married again, and moving around Sydney, then to Kangaroo Valley (beautiful place), Nowra, Canberra and then Cairns.
It was a week after I’d started writing The Dragon's Tail (see the Writing page) that I rediscovered my passion for the band – my husband bought me the Hall of Fame concert DVD because he knew I was fond of the band. I took a look at the date the concert was filmed – May 2000. I thought about bands from the same era and how they’d aged – gracefully or not. I put the DVD in the player, hit the play button and watched. And heard songs I'd not heard before. And discovered the theme for the romance part of the novel.
And spent the next six months making my credit card cry by buying EVERY album they’d ever put out, plus all of Justin Hayward’s solo albums and his co-album Blue Jays with John Lodge.
So, of course, when I heard they were coming to the southern hemisphere in 2005 I just HAD to go see them, no matter where or at what cost. At first they were only going to New Zealand. Plans were made with fellow Moodies fan and Kiwi author Russell Kirkpatrick. Then I heard of the Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane concerts. More plans were made. A wedding invitation appeared from friends in southern NSW for the weekend before. The timing was perfect. Nothing in this known universe was going to stop me getting there to see the band for the first and probably only time in my life.
When Ticketek announced the date of ticket sales I did a happy dance. NSW was still on daylight saving so I could quite happily sit waiting at my computer for the time to roll around and hit the BUY button and not be late for work. Gawd I’m such a responsible person!
April arrived. I was in Sydney. With my front row ticket in hand I made it to the State Theatre with camera set to no flash, and a copy of The Mandragon Chronicles (The Dragon's Tail's original title) clasped firmly in my hand – a gift for Justin who was the inspiration for the hero. So what if the date was the 13th? 13 has always been a lucky number for me so I knew the evening was going to be perfect. And it was. Although I had to remind myself that I wasn’t watching a concert on TV, that these guys were really standing a few feet away from me and I wasn’t listening to a CD – they were really "there".
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At the end of the show I stood by the stage; book in hand, grinning like a loon. The whole evening had gone so well, the next few moments were going to be the clincher. Very few gifts and flowers were handed up – Aussie audiences must be considerably more restrained than American audiences – and Justin was about to walk off the stage. Panic set in. I shouted his name; he looked over, asked if the book I was waving was for him. I nodded, he came over and the book was in his hand. In spite of the noise I heard his thank you clearly.
And the deed was done. The book I had written as a kind of thank you to the band for all the beautiful music they’ve brought to the world is in Justin’s keeping.
I'll probably never know if he reads it or not. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I had the opportunity to see them play live before more of them retire (still miss you, Ray) and fulfilled two dreams on one night.
In the six weeks before the concert I managed to write the band into the story. Here are two short extracts from book 1, where the hero first meets them and then later joins them.
The mid autumn sun shone down from a cloudless sky and Jovario whistled as he strode along. Since winning the contest life had seemed almost too perfect. Only his thoughts of Helena and what he’d done to her left a shadow.
Hearing the jingle of harness and the clip-clop of hooves from behind, he stepped off the road to let the wagon pass.
‘Morning!’
Jovario smiled as the driver called out to him.
‘It’s mid afternoon, or don’t you know which way the sun goes across the sky?’
The driver looked up at the sky. ‘It is? We must have slept longer than we thought.’
A black-haired head stuck out from the wagon. ‘No, we just didn’t go to bed until nearly dawn.’
The driver reined the horose to a halt. ‘From the looks of it, you’re a musician too. A minstrel, yes?’
Jovario nodded. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Well, hop in the back. We’re stopping at the next village. Maybe you’d like to play with us tonight?’
Jovario unslung his guitar and swung it up into the hands of a young curly-headed man in the back. He clambered up and settled himself down.
The curly-headed man introduced them all. ‘I’m Julio, that’s Ralamondo,’ he pointed to the black-haired man, ‘that’s Garamondo, and our driver is Michaelondo. We travel the country, like you do, entertaining as best we may.’
‘From your looks I’d say none of you are related, yet you all have similar sounding names. Except for you, Julio. Are you known as the Ondo Brothers?’
‘What the …’ Ralamondo spluttered.
‘Where did you hear that?’ Garamondo asked.
‘I didn’t hear it anywhere. I just thought it sounded right. With your names like they are.’
Michaelondo stuck his head through the canopy. ‘Speaking of names, what’s yours, if we may ask?’
Jovario chuckled. ‘Well, you may ask but all I’ll tell you is that I’m known as the Black Minstrel.’
All three in the wagon gasped and whispered together for a moment. Then Julio leaned towards Jovario. ‘We’ve heard of you. You won the Minstrels’ Contest in Sancturé. We’ve all been wondering if we’d run into you.’
Jovario opened his arms wide. ‘Well, here I am.’
Garamondo began tapping a rhythm on the side of the wagon, and within moments the others had retrieved their instruments from beneath piles of clothing and joined in. Jovario listened for a few minutes then unwrapped his guitar and began to play.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and they soon found themselves in the tavern, playing and laughing at the maidens all vying for Jovario’s attention.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to stick around? Last night proved that we would do well as five.’ Michaelondo sat on the wagon, the reins held loosely in his hands.
Jovario rested his hand on the wagon as he looked up at Michaelondo. ‘No, thanks all the same. But if we do run into each other again I’ll happily play with you, be assured of that.’
‘I can’t ask any more than that. Take care, Black Minstrel. Try not to break too many hearts.’ He flicked the reins and the horose began to amble along the road.
Jovario chuckled; he knew Michaelondo was referring to the maidens who settled for second best when he refused their attentions.
I can’t make any guarantees on that, my friend. He slung his guitar over his back and followed the wagon at a much slower pace, whistling and ignoring the more persistent maidens as they followed him to the edge of the village.
The bitter wind ate through Jovario’s cloak and he shivered. Caught unawares by the speed of the storm’s arrival he ran towards the shelter of a thick copse of trees at the base of a steep hill. As he made his way deeper through the trees fat wet flakes of snow began to fall and silence fell across the land.
He settled himself into a hollow between the roots of a tree and had just covered himself with a layer of leaves and his cloak when he heard a tapping noise. It didn’t sound like a bird. He cocked his head, listening. The tapping changed tempo, the notes of a flute echoed through the trees and he grinned.
The music led him to a cave close by which looked like it was used on a regular basis. Someone had installed a sturdy wooden door and he could see light around its edges. A soft whinny caught his attention and he smiled when he saw a familiar wagon and a dejected-looking horose huddled in the shelter of some thick bushes nearby. He pulled the door open.
‘Room for one more?’ He stepped inside and closed the door.
The smiles that lit all four faces gave him the answer he needed. He draped his cloak over a rope, then hunched over the fire to warm his hands.
‘Well met, Minstrel. Here, you look like you need this.’ Garamondo handed Jovario a plate of stew, and helped himself to another.
‘Well met, indeed.’ Jovario settled himself in amongst the bedding and stretched his legs out to the fire.
‘And now we are five,’ Michaelondo murmured, eliciting a sleepy nod from Jovario.
‘Five,’ the others echoed, and a companionable silence fell over the cave.
Thank you Justin, John, Graeme, Ray and Mike – the world will be a sadder place when you are no longer around. May that not happen for a very long time.
In the month of September 2007 Jeff Wayne brought the stage show of his musical version of War of the Worlds to Australia and New Zealand. On September 13 I was in the audience (unfortunately not in a really good position for photos) being blown away by the special effects and sounds and images. I did manage to get some good photos, and almost got to meet Justin Hayward backstage. However I did meet Jeff Wayne and thanked him for saving me the airfare to go and see the show in the UK!
As for finding out if Justin read the book at all - I have to wait for my copy of the interview my good mate Pete Rudder from 4BH did with him earlier that same day. I had primed him with a bunch of questions from quite a few fans, and had also mentioned not knowing if Justin had read the book. I have no idea (yet) if Pete asked him about it but he did keep teasing me throughout the evening with snippets from the interview.
Below are some of the photos I took - the non-blurry ones that is. Click on the thumbnail to bring up a full size image.
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Here are some of my favourite Moody Blues links:
Justin Hayward’s site: www.justinhayward.com
The Official Site: www.moodyblues.co.uk
Sue Cutlip’s photos site (she takes awesome pictures): www.moodysojourn.com
