Just Before
Zen, Drugs + Rock 'n' Roll
Just Before
Right here I stand before you
Naked in awe
I wonder what this thing that I’m feeling is called
Being in a storm
The river rain beats down
Like a baby covered in motherly touch
Tender and alive
A feeling that I’ve
Never known
1977
Mum’s got me an old record player from the auction house in the park. Carefully stacked ‘45’s, drop onto the turntable, just like the jukebox in the pub. I raided Steffi’s record collection and spend most of my time singing along with Ella Fitzgeralds’ impossible silky scats and Patsy Clines mournful cries. I wake up to Julie Driscoll and drift off to Joni Mitchel, softly carving sculptures from dusky air. These women tell the truth. I’m gripped by the grit and roar of Janice Joplin, and Dolly Parton’s huge thumping heart is great company. Dory Previns’ salty tales of women young and old, stir up feelings I’ve never felt before. And then there’s Aretha and Nina. Powerful and fierce. Truth be told they scare me a bit. I’ve never seen a black person in real life.
Their voices leave me breathless. Their courage beams like a lighthouse. They dare tell it like it is. I want to sing about my feelings too. Maybe someone will listen? Dare I believe I can be a ‘real’ singer? A ‘real’ songwriter. They tell me I’m not alone. They’ve got my back. They understand and help me through. No matter how rough it gets they never criticise, judge or blame. My scruffy blue Dansette never lets me down.
