Thoughts I’ve Had While Listening To Heart 70s.

Allow me to set the scene. The year is 2021 and I have been driving my daughter to and from pre-school every day for the past 5 months. The journey takes a total of 4 minutes each way. Unless of course, any of the Mayor’s commissioned road works are being implemented, then that same journey can take anywhere up to 45 minutes. Now, every Londoner and sane human would generally ask me why I bother getting in the car rather than just using mine and said daughter’s healthy and able legs for this twice daily journey.

Well, she’s 4. This means a 10-minute walk, can take around half an hour, depending on the length of spontaneous tantrums and/or subjects of interest we may stumble upon on our walking excursion. There could be leaves that need to be picked up and gifted to Mother, a rock to be pointed at, a fence type investigated, a bird observed, dog shit narrowly avoided and so on and so on. All those things also have to be discussed in detail. And by discussed and detail, I mean she will ask me a question along the lines of ‘why did the bird fly away?’ and I will respond with something like ‘I’m not really sure, I guess she just wanted to fly’, which will turn into a ‘but why, mummy?’, ‘I’m not sure, Child’, ‘but why?’ etc etc, until a new subject of interest catches her eye.

This is very cute, you’ll say. She’s so inquisitive, you’ll observe. And she is. She really is. But when you do this dance every single morning before you’ve had breakfast or a peaceful cup of coffee, you get sick of your own voice constantly uttering things like- I don’t know, hurry up, we’re gonna be late, look where you’re going, don’t jump in that puddle, and for the love of God -be careful!

Plus, you know, it’s cold, dark and wet.

So, we’ve been driving my middle-class mum-mobile to nursery every morning. With the drive being such a short one, it seems a waste of time and energy to faff with Spotify and Bluetooth connections, for the sake of listening to 1 whole song. It’ll take me longer to choose what to play. The radio is the clear smart and less anxiety-inducing solution to my not-really-a-real-problem.

Generally speaking, I am of the feeling that the radio is way past its purposeful expiration date. Why do I need some ‘Dee Jay’ jabbering on with his opinions and playing his / hers (but let’s face it, mostly his) selection of songs, when I can do a far better job playing tracks to my schizophrenic music taste. But that’s a separate rambling. And one I’m not entirely sure is valid, as I have been listening to the radio every day, twice a day, in 4-minute stints for a while now.

The station of choice for our journey is Heart 70s. We tried Kisstory at first, but Mila couldn’t get behind Roc Ya Body first thing in the morning. We trialled a handful of other stations, but it didn’t take long to settle on Heart 70s as an all-rounder music satisfier for both age groups in the car.

At the time of settling, Bee Gees were telling us we should be Stayin’ Alive and Mini-Me got a kick out of Barry’s repetitive high notes, which she cheerfully imitated.

Mini-Me has been a music fan since the day she was born; busting out her best Let It Go at any given opportunity since she was in her Terrible Twos. This is impressive to me not just because I am tone deaf and salute her natural singing ability, but also because this small child is doing pretty damn good at remembering quite a lot of lyrics, while still demands I put her shoes on in the morning, because ‘she doesn’t remember how to’. Inset parental eye roll here.

Spotting this talent, I took the opportunity to develop my super-cool-mum style and expand her musical tastes beyond nursery rhymes and Disney spectrums. She’ll thank me later, I’m (pretty) sure of it.

My musical education method is pretty basic, much like the rest of the syllabus taught in my house since in actual fact I have no idea what I’m doing as a parent. I just play songs I think she will vibe with around the house- a lot. Some may say it’s not ‘teaching’ per se and in all honesty, I tend to agree, but all I know is, it worked.

My first success was with Dolly’s Jolene, and since that faithful day when my 3-year-old was singing about how red-haired woman should not be wrecking marriages, we have expanded her repertoire to include We Will Rock You, I’m Still Standing and Stay by Rhianna and Mikky Ekko.

But now with Heart opening up the repertoire with a selection of the 70s’ biggest and most mediocre hits, I have made some observations.

Firstly, I would like to publicly state I have underrated Rod Steward for far too long. I have always loved the man, mainly for Maggie May, Baby Jane and Young Turks, but my God does that man have a back catalogue. You’re In My Heart– Banger, Do Ya Think I’m Sexy– banger (and also hard to explain to a 4-year-old what sexy is without being creepy and /or scarring her for life), Sailing– banger, Handbags & Gladrags– banger I Don’t Want To Talk About It- Baaanger, First Cut Is The Deepest- kind of a banger. But also brings me to my second observation.

Love. 90% of songs played on Heart 70s seem to be about love. Falling in love, being in love, a girl chasing some boy, some boy is in-lust with some girl, loving someone who’s not into you, hooking up, breaking up, getting back together and everything else in between.

Was everyone that loved up in the 70s, that only a small portion of everyone’s day was allocated for family, rockin’, boogie, sunshine and getting in down (which technically speaking is a form of love)?

Or is it just that most songs are about love and I only noticed it now through the magnifying glass of a radio station’s playlist? I can’t say that the love bothers me. I’m all for it, being in love is awesome. It just seems to me that Heart plays an excessive amount of songs about love. And for those of us not in love all of the time, throw us a bone and mix it up with the less lovey vibes of Led Zep, Doors and even The Faces. All that love first thing in the morning makes one think she’s missing out.

Lastly, Michael Jackson. As a lifelong fan, there are very few of his songs that don’t send my limbs into immediate and almost involuntary boogie. Some of this boogie takes me back in time to some stupid routine me and my friends would have “choreographed” to a number of his bangers back at school. So, when a song of his comes on, my internal reaction is one of immediate happiness. “YASSSS, Child, this is another Michael Jackson banger, do you like it?”. Of course she likes it, it’s hard not to. It’s hard to deny his genius and the fact that his particular brand of bangers has absolutely stood the test of time. Then I remember that I probably shouldn’t promote him too much. He is, after all, a bad man.

Now I know the courts in the U.S of A have found him not guilty of all the things that makes him a bad man in my brain, but to me, he will always be the guy who had little kids over for sleepovers.

Even if he never did anything wicked with those children. Even if it really was all innocent and playful, because of his ‘child like’ mind. It just doesn’t sit right with me. Child-like mind or not, you are still a grown-ass man. And if you don’t know better, some other adult in your camp should have had a word. Someone probably did, to be fair. I really haven’t kept too close an eye on the trials and details. Guilty or not, I made up my mind about it when it all came out, and I can’t say my opinion has changed in however many years it’s been.

But I do still love his tunes. And I think so do many other people. Is that why his tunes are still on the airwaves when the likes of Gary Glitter, Lostprophets and R Kelly (who as far as I can tell is still a free man and probably actively continuing to be a bad man) have been banished?

When the horrors of Ian Watkins’ crimes came to light, I would freak out at my iPod when a Lostprophets song would come on on shuffle play. I couldn’t get to the ‘next’ button fast enough. I was embarrassed I liked their music, owned their music, went to their shows and once upon a time when Punky Fish jeans were the bomb, I even got Ian to sign my Lostprophets t-shirt (though it’s important to note, the t-shirt was not worn by me at the time of signage). It gives me the eek to think about that. Yet I’m still pissed I never got to see Michael live- even after the trial.

To sum up- kids are slow at everything, I heart Rod Stewart, the 70’s Heart love; I have mixed feelings about enjoying Michael Jackson’s music. 

The accompanying playlist to my thoughts can be found here.