How I Came to be in the Music Industry

A rare but brief synopsis.

Harry Hogg

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With the introduction of the jukebox into our local cafe came the era of rock’ n’ roll; remember them? Those heady youthful days. The cafe was the place for us schoolkids to congregate, watch the schoolgirls crowded around the jukebox listening to Bobby Darin tapping their feet to Cliff Richard and the Shadows or going bonkers over Elvis Presley singing ‘Return to Sender’.

I was physically incapable of moving any part of my body to a rhythm, so I could never ask a girl to dance. Susan’s dad was the island’s policeman (you’ll know all about Susan if you’ve read my writings), which meant that her breasts were so far out of touching distance no one ever thought about them. We all thought about them because they were so perky, but in your life, you didn’t want to think about what her dad would do to you.

Hutch (Benny)was the island’s dork! He wanted to be an actor but made the mistake of telling his dad. Hutch became a trawlerman at age fifteen. I heard some years later that Hutch had made it to London, working in a local theater. A year later, he was on the dole. I mention this here because Hutch never gave up on his dream.

Dad played the mandolin. Dad said he learned because he had traced his ancestry back to that of Scandinavian gipsies, but Mum said he learned to impress the girls. But the thing I most remember is when Dad played the accordion; it was a popular night at the inn in the town. Mum told me Dad liked to play at the inn because, she said, there were shadows in the town where lonely people lived. Dad has always hated the idea of loneliness. The locals put money at the bar every week that Dad played, and he gave the money to the local shelter in Oban.

But when Dad played, the whole place was filled and bouncing. Honestly, it was spectacular! The women danced, still wearing their kitchen pinafores, while their husbands stamped their feet on the old wooden floor and thumped fists on tables. Dad always said even husky voices need to sing!
How is it possible on a blank page to describe a joy like you have never heard; music flew into the rafters, escaped out of windows, crept under doors and flooded into the street? It was a community at its best.

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Harry Hogg

Ex Greenpeace, writing since a teenager. Will be writing ‘Lori Tales’ exclusively for JK Talla Publishing in the Spring of 2024