When I was about 12 years old I discovered music. I mean proper music not just those weird kids records that we all listened to. You know things like the Chipmunks and things like that. I’m talking proper grown up music here.
My friend Brian brought down his big brothers copy of Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band album. That was it, I was in love. Brian gave me my own copy of Sgt Peppers for my birthday that year and I think I almost wore the album out playing it. It was the start of a love affair that would last the rest of my life to varying degrees, bordering on obsession at some points I’m sure. I’d track down collector items, before it was fashionable to collect things and long before anyone knew what they had, was worth anything. I went from having a crush on each of The Beatles individually but finally settled on Paul being my most favorite of the boys. While I think I grew out of the crush at some point Paul remains one of my rock heroes.
At some point in the not so distant past, The Boys seem to have fallen out of favor with me and my listening tastes. I can’t even say why. It wasn’t a choice that I remember making. It was just that there was other music that seemed to fit me better at the time. The Boys were left on a shelf to collect dust, while other bands got lots and lots of air time.
But recently that ember of love I’ve always held in my heart for The Boys has grown back into a flame. In the last few weeks The Boys seem to be everywhere I look there they are, my childhood heroes. And it has me feeling excited about their music all over again. In fact as I type this out the White Album is blasting at me and reminding me of my first record player, of my childhood home and my bedroom the way it looked before I moved downstairs. And even after I moved downstairs come to think of it.
It’s almost like discovering a long thought lost love and falling in love all over again.