Isn't it strange how the meaning of a song can change and evolve over the course of your life? Even though I really enjoyed school there was no way I wasn’t going to join in with the chanting of We Don’t Need No Education – it was quite fun but the sentiment expressed in the song was quite alien to me. I wanted as much of it as I could possibly get.
If that makes me sound something of a swot I suppose it’s not entirely inaccurate. After school a few years of university followed by teacher training saw me go back to school in an altogether different capacity. Teaching back then was still generally respected – despite the Pink Floyd song. parents still generally sided with the institution rather than the child and, more importantly, the institution was on the side of both.
This year will be my last year as a teacher (but not the last before my retirement) and it is Another Brick in the Wall that will resonate as I leave the profession. I simply don't need no education – not professionally, not anymore. I’ve had enough. I feel guilty – over a spectrum – but I need to leave for the sake of my health, both mental and physical.
Gove, I don’t need your education, your dark sarcasm (I’m part of a blob am I?) which seeps in to the classroom, your thought control over what and how I should teach. Hey Minister, leave us teachers alone! As for the future - well, that like the past is another country. I don’t know what I will do next (I will probably do a Ken Barlow and work in a supermarket or something like that) but all I know is I have to get out.
Quite when the seeds were sown for the effective dismantling of education in the UK, I do not know but over the twenty odd years I have taught the changes, year in year out were perhaps subtle enough to mean that I may not have noticed the differences that each academic year brought with them. The job that I did has been gradually chipped away with, eroded little by little so that now, outside of the classroom, it bears little resemblance to that which I started all those years ago.
Moreover, education has been taken out of the hands of the educators and sold off – sometimes not even to the highest bidder - but it seems to the pals and gravy train acquaintances of those in power. The deeds of thousands of schools have been blithely passed from the hands of local authorities to the sweaty paws of those wishing to make a fast buck out of something which, almost by definition, should not make a profit. The only profits there should be in education are the tools and means with which we equip the pupils to lead successful, creative and independent-minded lives.
There will be a day of reckoning, when these firms go the way of their Swedish counterpart and tens of thousands of kids are left without education. I might rouse a little dark sarcasm on that day.
How can a government be so negligent of an entire generation? Right here right now because in Michael Gove we have someone prepared to sacrifice lives for the sake of ideology. Right here, right now because teachers are burdened with a workload much of which has little or nothing to do with education in real terms. Right here, right now because teachers are judged by a heartless inspectorate (most of whom are employed by private companies, rather than Ofsted itself) more interested in squashing kids like square pegs in to round holes and judging teachers by how they entertain rather than teach and the kids how they actively engage (oh, FFS!) – as if they can be plugged in like light bulbs – rather than how they prefer to learn.
I look at the comments made by teachers in the letters pages of newspapers and on Facebook pages like Michael Gove Must Resign. I genuinely feel sorry for those starting out in the profession now (over 20% of whom leave in their first few years – they weren’t brought up to put up with and endure such a gruelling Victorianesque working week). As they set their targets, pore over their spreadsheets, and prepare for the ever-looming Ofsted inspection (not to mention often fighting against their workplace becoming an academy for no apparent reason) I wonder how they ever turn their minds to actually teaching with any spirit or vigour.
When did teachers become another brick in the wall? I don’t know but let us just hope and imagine that one day the cement laid down so carefully by Michael Gove will crumble.
My Father died on Labor Day, 1976 from brain cancer. My mother was 31 and just was not equipped to respond the right way to such a massive change. She had never had a driver’s license, suffered from Bipolar illness, and had three young boys to tend to. We were living in Fort Mill, SC down the road from Carowinds in a trailer park called Twin Lakes Estates, Twin Lakes being a septic cesspool formation occupied by ducks and whatnot: picturesque in its own way I guess.
In my mind I hear a turbo prop buzzing overhead and a tan 16 year old girl is standing with a Kiss album. Afternoon Delight is playing, the sun is shining and faint screams of roller coaster riders,...then I'm kinda crying, sort of catch a glimpse of The Jerry Lewis Telethon and it’s nightfall. I'm listening to a 1972 Sony radio, wood like breadbox, with a bug stuck in the green glowing dial.
In the Spring of 77' the AMC dealership where my Father had been a car salesman, chipped in to get our mother a car and also got us a weekend pass to a country club. We went all day and stayed until it closed at 11:30. The whole day we swam in an indoor pool and enjoyed our new terry cloth jumpsuits they gave us.
It was late and we climbed into the blue 1972 Mazda RX3 and started back to the trailer park. A short time later we all became sleepy, the radio was kinda low with Cracker Box Palace playing, then HEY MOM!
Our mother had fallen asleep and jolted awake: she mashed the gas instead of the brake, over corrected and hit the grassy raised shoulder, launching us into the trees.
The volume knob got cranked and it was blasting the song, gas was pouring and we all yelled TURN OFF THE ENGINE!
It was a mess; my brother who was sitting in the front seat busted his nose wide open on the dash like an egg in a frying pan. Our Mom bit through her upper lip and my other brother flew in the fetal position, wedging in the back glass area. I got some serious rope burn to my forehead having not been restrained and I had been resting my head on the back of our mother’s seat.
The impact briefly replayed itself. We hit the tree and spun at least once all the way around it because the tree looked kind of like the old Batman between scenes thing.
After the wreck my oldest brother popped himself out of the back glass spot and we climbed out and walked to the road, it was pitch black. Joe went to a house and the people called for an ambulance. We stood along the shoulder and a while later they came and got us.
I got into Blood Rock when I was 14, the poor man’s Grand Funk.
I grew up in the heartland of the United States, thousands of miles from the nearest ocean. Home-schooled with two older brothers and a much younger sister, I spent much of my time alone, imagining stories and finding ways to bring them to life.
The first cassette tape I ever owned was a hand-me-down copy of DO IT AGAIN by the Beach Boys. I remember staring at them, in their blue striped shirts -- and thinking of how cute they were. I, being quite isolated from the rest of the world, had hardly any concept of time: to me, this cassette was filled modern music, I didn't know three decades stood between me and those blonde boys, or that I couldn't have been further from their surfing, car loving, Southern California culture.
Maybe the connection with their music existed because I was named after the same body of water that served as the motivation for all their music; but listening to them inspired a longing to experience the ocean that they sang about, to be a "California Girl."
I continued to build my Beach Boys album collection. At one point in time, I remember being teased by neighborhood kids for only listening to "oldies." At a friend's house once, I was outraged when I realized the Hanson album she was listening to had 'stolen' one of the Beach Boy's Christmas classics. I treasured the re-runs of Full House guest starring the Beach Boys - if Uncle Jesse could jam with them, surely their music WAS cool!
My favorite songs would become "Fun, Fun, Fun" and "In My Room." For whatever reason, their music attached to my heart, their harmonies something I would rewind repeatedly. My love of music from generations past was nurtured by my dad. I remember laughing with him over the commonly misheard lyrics from "Help Me Rhonda" - how could people really think they sang "Well since you put me down. I've got owls puking in my bed"? We had discussions of Brian Wilson's breakdowns and the band's connections to the Charles Manson family.
"Pet Sounds" would become a pinnacle album for me, the tracks of which my dad and I enjoyed together. Who can resist "Good Vibrations"?
It's approaching the 4 year anniversary of losing my dad -- but the legacy he left of truly enjoying a song, being submerged, feeling the lyrics and searching for their meaning has never departed. When I hear our favorite songs, I feel him near.
When I met Jonathan, it was first time in my life I felt I finally fully appreciated "Wouldn't It Be Nice." What a beautiful song. At our wedding, I chose a Beach Boys song to walk down the aisle to. With a brother on either side, I proudly approached the altar with "Forever" playing (picture above) -- the choice was a melodic nod to my father, thanking him for sharing his love of music with me; it was the most wonderful day of my life, and I felt as if my dad was there.
Last year, Jon and I were finally able to make my long awaited pilgrimage to the West Coast. The entire trip I felt as if I was living their music. I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time, and it was every bit as wonderful as Mike, Brian, Al, Bruce and David had always made it seem.
Written by Oceanna ColganFilmmaker, Green Shoe Studio, Illinois
Throughout the years I've enjoyed many different songs and artist. There's just something so great about finding something new to listen to.
Although I've never been one for favorites I can honestly say when it comes down to it there is one song that is my favorite and has been since I was a child. It's the song I whistle to without even knowing it, and one of the first songs I learned on the piano, You Are My Sunshine. So simple yet it has so much meaning to me.
It always takes me back. Almost like a time stamp and so many memories are linked to it. From singing it as a child in our station wagon with my siblings to humming it to my nephews when I babysat and put them to sleep.
Somehow over the years has become my go to song.
It doesn't really matter who sings it; Johnny Cash, Boxcar Willie, Civil Wars, or even my sister Tabitha. It always manages to put my mind at ease.
Written by Britt Colgan, Peoria Illinois
Britt works for Green Shoe Studio, which offers a wide variety of music genre recording, music videos, short films, and photography.
For a lot of kids in the mid-1970s – and despite the lyrics (no escape from...) – Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody was just the escape from reality that they needed. This song wasn’t just popular – it was a form of addiction in its own right. Whenever it came on the radio things would just stop – and god help the DJ who thought it was a good idea to talk over the end or, worse, cut the song after four minutes.
Yet although I wish I could say that it only causes me great pleasure when I hear it, that would not be totally honest. Each time I hear the song the one thing I truly remember is pain – a whole lot of pain.
Before you run away, no, this was not the song that I had my heart broken to (that’s another story altogether). The single had been on my record player since its release – non-stop – to such an extent that my mother had already threatened filicide. It wasn’t just the monotony of hearing the song over and over (no taste), it was the volume at which it was played too. If any song was made for sheer volume, then this is it.
One afternoon I wasn’t feeling very well at school and was sent home. I had been sick – spectacularly and also had a stomach ache and fever. The school canteen’s food was renowned for doing this so it wasn’t considered anything unusual – I was just packed off home. Both my parents were working so I had the place to myself so it was off to the bedroom, open up the Dansette and put Bohemian Rhapsody on repeat while I recuperated on the bed.
I don’t remember much about what happened next. I woke up delirious with the pain. I knew mum was in the room with me as were some strange men in uniform, as well as Freddy Mercury and the boys still harmonizing in the backgroud about Scaramouche, Galileo and Beelzebub. They put me on to a stretcher and I got my first ride in an ambulance. It turns out I had appendicitis and had to have my appendix removed in an emergency operation.
When I got home from the hospital I still needed time to fully recover before I went back to school. You might think that appendicitis and Queen might have merged seamlessly in to some sort of rock and roll aversion therapy. You would be wrong. No prizes for guessing what the first song was that I played on my return from the sick house.
Mind, I still, to this day, sometimes flinch when it’s on.
Written by Tom Middleton
Tom is a lifelong fan of the late Freddie Mercury and Queen. He works for a National Health Trust in Manchester, UK.
Watching the Old Grey Whistle Test in 1978....lots of rock heroes playing a million notes to the minute and even a bit of punk...then this scruffy long-hair with terrible sideburns launches into a long meandering song called Like a Hurricane...kind of laid back, just totally into his playing without trying to impress anyone...my father, somewhat surprisingly, announced from his armchair, "whatever he's on I want some".
I went out and bought the album (first released in 1977). This contained containing an even better version, apparently recorded during a first run through of the song when he was teaching it to the band (according to his recent autobiography).
This was the song I most associate with my late teens...punk was great, I even discovered jazz, Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane but this was my touchstone. I've never got bored with it and it's cropped up at all kinds of unexpected times in my life since then..
I met up with an old friend from those days, years later and what comes on the radio? ..... As a regularly gigging guitar player and singer it's a reminder that an instrumental solo should capture the essence of the song....and definitely not be an excuse for showing that you can play more notes than the next guy; that way leads to poodle-haired rock madness.
There's a certain feeling when a band is just playing at their best...the music just flows. I've been playing with the same bunch of musicians for twenty odd years...we get to that certain place sometimes.and that's why I keep playing.
Old Neil is still selling out every tour and the last time I saw him in concert with Crazy Horse he was still truly magnificent and played some very long and at times startlingly avant garde guitar racket and kept the audience with him every step of the way.
David sings and plays guitar for The Cane Toads. He also can be found 'wandering around in fields, making beeping noises'.
Written by Bill Yuksel, Dundee, Scotland - Currently I am a student, living quite far away from the rest of my family which means I am often on long trains/coaches/car rides with little but music and other audio forms to entertain me. I think the Hitchhikers Guide in its many forms is a fantastic travel companion, and to this day insist it is the most important book one can read prior to going to university, but that is a topic for another time and place.
I enjoy the journey of the sorcerer when traveling as it makes me think about wonder that surrounds us when we are going from one place to another. One can observe some quite wonderful things from a window when traveling.
Traveling also often provokes a lot of different and sometimes confliction emotions. Often people are traveling to educate themselves, to see a friends and family or simply just for the adventure. I love traveling for many of my own reasons. If I had to pick one definitive piece of music as my ultimate travel theme the Journey of the Sorcerer would certainly be it.
Anyway that’s enough of my rambling I think I need to go and stop an interstellar by-pass from being built.
Bill is currently an undergraduate student at University of Abertay, Dundee
