AC/DC for babies
It’s been three months since blogjune and three months since I did any blogging, but it’s recently occurred to me that I’ve been blogging the whole time on Soundcloud. Beyond the sense of satisfaction and challenge of sharing my little recordings, I’ve rediscovered my love obligation-free writing through the blurbs I add to accompany my tracks. The other thing I’ve noticed is that I love other people’s tracks so much more when they do the same. The first thing I’ll do when any song starts to play is hit the Info button in the hope that there’s some sort of extra detail. Even if it’s just a quick note of who did the production or ‘just playing around with this concept: will redux later’ kind of message, it adds dimension. Metadata that takes something perfectly able to stand on its own already and somehow makes it even more real. There are real people, real makers behind the final product I’m listening to. That’s my motivation, anyway. Even when I’m pleased with the output of what I’ve recorded, there’s always the voice of self-depreciation to be quietened. Adding an explanation of why I have chosen to record this particular little sound and let it be heard by the internet legitimises it in my own mind. And it’s amazing how people respond to it in the comments. Strangers who feel they understand a familiar song in a new way, or who’ve been introduced to a new song through not only hearing it but also having had someone tell them a story. Who doesn’t love having someone tell them a story? I’ve come to believe that this connection between story and song really makes music warmer. I’ve decided to continue this connection between story and song by posting my Soundcloud reflections here beginning with some thoughts on introducing AC/DC to babies…
I’ve had a fever for a good part of the Twitter @coverschallenge #water week, so not much energy left to do more than phone it in. At times like these, all you want is familiar and comforting, and in this case it’s AC/DC, a childhood favourite and medley.
A few weeks ago, I called out for song suggestions during Storytime like I normally do. Apart from the occasional bizarre request from a preschooler wanting me to sing the song of last night’s dream, for example, it’s usually the standard mix of children’s songs. On this day, though, a dad I didn’t recognise called out for ‘AC/CD Thunderstruck’. I laughed it off saying I liked his taste but it’s beyond my repertoire, before going on with the session with Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or the like. But the incident stuck with me.
I credit this guy as a litmus test: proof that adults feel at home even on their first time there. But even though I knew he wasn’t heckling per se, my presenter’s paranoia had kicked in with the suspicion that he was trying to throw me off my game because he thought I was showing off. It felt like a gauntlet thrown down. And—although it’s probably the delirium talking—these are the times that genius can appear.
Actually, it’s pretty simple: a two-chord chorus of a classic rock song combined with a song I fondly remember from childhood (I Hear Thunder) plus another from the Storytime/Babytime repertoire I don’t particularly like but handy to bring our on inclement days (Drip Drop). The benefits: to give a new dimension to the sessions for a) the grownups who get the joke and those from other cultures who want to soak it all up so they can be the best parents of their Australian children they can be; b) the children who need to learn about the elements of weather and classic Australian rock; and c) to keep myself sharp.
Two days later, on a fortuitously overcast day, I told my Babytimers we were going to trial-run a new song and I’d need their help with the chorus. All they had to do was sing ‘ah-ah-ah-ahhh…’ One of the mums immediately shouted out ‘thunda!’ and it went from there. I felt like a bit of a goose by the end for having taken the risk but feedback was very encouraging.
Now that we’re out of winter, it’ll be a while before I’ll have occasion to bring it out again. But the next time the rain clouds close over Adelaide, I’ll be ready.