The Soundtrack of Our Lives
A Double Album in Prose
by Annie Christie
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: For anyone who has ever got lost in music!
Swearwords: None.
Description: For anyone who has ever got lost in music!
Disc One
Side One
Lost in Music
We're lost in music
Caught in a trap
No turnin' back
We're lost in music (Sister Sledge)
Side One
Lost in Music
We're lost in music
Caught in a trap
No turnin' back
We're lost in music (Sister Sledge)
Track Three
‘Is this the real life, is this just fantasy?’ (Queen)
~ Bohemian Rhapsody, 1975 ~
‘Is this the real life, is this just fantasy?’ (Queen)
~ Bohemian Rhapsody, 1975 ~
‘Did you see that last night?’
‘I never saw anything like it.’
‘It was…’ he tailed off. It was clearly beyond the vocabulary of a third year student.
That Friday, it was the only topic of conversation among the kids who made up class 3S2. Music matters when you’re fourteen. The morning was a torture that just had been endured, with everyone waiting for the temporary release of the lunch break. Friday afternoon meant double maths, but no one was thinking of double maths now. There was only one number they were interested in – number one. The lunch-time radio show would give a good indication of how it was progressing in the charts.
They sneaked into the Maths room, which would be the scene of boredom for the next two periods. They shouldn’t be there during lunch-break. They knew that. It was an act of plain defiance, but who would think to look for them there? Who in their right minds would hole up in a Maths class during the lunch hour? It was the perfect crime, if crime it was. Still, they placed Scooby as a lookout on the door just in case.
The classroom door slammed shut. Everyone huddled round Stevie’s portable tranny. The boys usually got together on a Friday lunchtime to listen to the chart song preview show, guessing which would go up and which would go down in advance of the official charts being announced on Radio 1 on Sunday evenings. A generation of kids didn’t complain about polishing their shoes on a Sunday evening if they were just left alone to do it by the radio.
It was generally a boys’ only thing, but Laura and I were low profile enough to be allowed to be ignored in the same space. Plus, Stevie was trying to get off with Laura, and it was his tranny… and where Laura went, Jane went. No one paid any attention to the fact that an S4 girl had snuck in past Scooby. It was probably the first time they’d not noticed her in their lives. But they were waiting for something more important than girls, even that girl. Even the great Rachel Shaw. Normally Rachel Shaw entering the room would have been a big event in and of itself, and especially after the last disco… but today she was invisible.
Stevie couldn’t contain himself.
‘It’s got to be this week,’ he said.
‘Shut up and turn the sound up,’ Rachel said.
Obeying her while still outwardly ignoring her, Stevie turned up the radio.
‘Is this the real life, is this just fantasy…’ came blasting out from the tinny transmitter.
They settled in for the next six minutes.
Scooby was kept at the door, watching through the pane of glass that ran down the side of it, in case a teacher turned up. He was straining to hear – torn between his given job and his desire to hear the song.
Stevie, ever the showman, couldn’t help himself. He got up on a desk and acted it out…
Mama, just killed a man, Put a gun against his head, Pulled my trigger, now he's dead…
As the song changed tempo so the boys, like cars revving up, could barely contain themselves. Normally silent, Doobs took over from Stevie…
I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango, Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me.
The others could bear it no longer, they all joined in…
(Galileo) Galileo, (Galileo) Galileo, Galileo figaro magnifico-o-o-o… that was Billy
(I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me)… Scooby – from the door
He's just a poor boy from a poor family… the rest shouted back…Spare him his life from this monstrosity
The crescendo in the classroom began to drown out the radio itself… a cacophony of fourteen year old boys in full flight. It would make a music teacher weep.
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go
(Let me go) Ah, no, no, no, no, no, no, no
On and on they went, oblivious to the world around them, lost in the music.
Even at the time we were aware we were witnessing something entirely ridiculous and yet quite spectacular at the same time. No one dared tell the boys to shut up, though they were becoming raucously loud. Even Billy had joined in. Despite the fact that Rachel was there, he sang:
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby!
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here!
Stevie took it out with a solo of poignancy which Freddie Mercury himself would have admired.
Nothing really matters, anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me
Any way the wind blows
And momentarily, silence rained.
‘It’s got to be number one this weekend, Stevie said, spent.
‘Did you see it last night?’ Billy asked Rachel. No one else noticed but I saw they were now holding hands under the desk.
‘Yes,’ Rachel replied said. Their fingers were working under the desk like ducks feet flapping, but above the surface they remained remarkably cool in front of their peers. Of course they did. Billy and Rachel were the epitome of cool right then.
‘It was barry, eh no?’ he said.
She nodded. ‘My dad nearly exploded.’
‘I’ve never seen anything like it before,’ Stevie said, entering into what had been essentially a private conversation. He was like that, Stevie. No sense of boundaries. It was one reason Laura didn’t want to go out with him.
Meanwhile Scooby had abandoned his lookout post and was dancing round the room – the song had finished but he’d started up his own version of it. The boys joined in. Billy left Rachel (possibly for the last time before he never really left her again) and they set themselves up behind the desk, a quartet of faces and performed; for probably the first and only time in their adolescent lives with no sense of shame in the presence of girls, no desire to look cool, to act tough – they all just knew they were taking part in something bigger than music – this was history in the making.
‘It’s got to be number one next week,’ Stevie said.
Doobs was about to start a debate on what the word ‘Bismillah’ meant – Scooby said it was ‘Ishmillah’ and they were about to go at it hammer and tongs when Laura interjected. That pulled them up short. In our classes the rule was that girls were there to be seen and not heard. By the boys. Objects of lust or ridicule but not supposed to speak. Not unbidden. The challenge was made.
‘Can you believe that Billy Connolly knocked Space Oddity off the top spot?’ Laura said it with a slight jeer. She knew that Space Oddity had been the song all the boys had championed – until now.
‘That’s such a shite song. D-I-V-O… Who buys these records?’ Stevie asked. It was a deep question for him.
‘Girls,’ said Scooby. ‘Girls, that’s who. No taste in music. Girls shouldn’t be allowed to buy music.’
‘What?’ Laura couldn’t keep quiet at that.
The boys had been tracking David Bowie’s track up the charts for a month – watching as he took out David Essex, Rod Stewart and even Roxy Music. Bryan Ferry presented the boys with a problem. He was cool, damned cool, but you couldn’t say so because girls liked him too. Best keep baiting them with the likes of Hot Chocolate…
‘I believe in miracles,’ Stevie crooned at me, ‘Where you from, you sexy thing?’
I know I got a beamer as he danced round me, flicking my tie. I didn’t respond. I knew better. I had a better preservation instinct than Laura. It was like with wasps. Just stay still and soon enough they’ll move on.
‘How about it, disco queen, wanna hold me close?’ Stevie asked Rachel. Well, it was in her general direction, he didn’t actually speak to her. He didn’t dare.
Billy glared at him. Stevie backed off, knowing when he’d gone too far. He packed the radio back into his non-regulation Adidas schoolbag and adjusted his tie to make it just so. Just so not being the regulation school style of course. Big fat knot and no tail.
‘It’s got to be number one this weekend,’ he said. And that was an end to it.
After all, everyone knew what Rachel thought about Space Oddity already. It was sacrilege. It was lucky she was so… so… well, so Rachel.
‘You can’t dance at it at a disco,’ she’d said.
‘Hold me close, Billy,’ Stevie had quipped. Followed swiftly with, ‘Beamer!’
Which statement pretty accurately described Billy’s face, it had to be said. Stevie was wise enough to take off at that point and Billy chased after him. Rachel was left in a group of her peers, all of them pulling the ‘boys are so-o-o immature’ stance and none of them daring to ask her the details they were all dying to know.
Discography: Want to sing along? Here are some YouTube links – sorry about attendant ads – sure you can find these all on your streaming music delivery platform (if you have such a thing!):
Queen Bohemian Rhapsody https://youtu.be/fJ9rUzIMcZQ
David Bowie Space Oddity https://youtu.be/cYMCLz5PQVw
Billy Connolly D-I-V-O-R-C-E https://youtu.be/SzZzGxReXmo
David Essex Hold me Close https://youtu.be/9G2lqY3Nuk0
‘I never saw anything like it.’
‘It was…’ he tailed off. It was clearly beyond the vocabulary of a third year student.
That Friday, it was the only topic of conversation among the kids who made up class 3S2. Music matters when you’re fourteen. The morning was a torture that just had been endured, with everyone waiting for the temporary release of the lunch break. Friday afternoon meant double maths, but no one was thinking of double maths now. There was only one number they were interested in – number one. The lunch-time radio show would give a good indication of how it was progressing in the charts.
They sneaked into the Maths room, which would be the scene of boredom for the next two periods. They shouldn’t be there during lunch-break. They knew that. It was an act of plain defiance, but who would think to look for them there? Who in their right minds would hole up in a Maths class during the lunch hour? It was the perfect crime, if crime it was. Still, they placed Scooby as a lookout on the door just in case.
The classroom door slammed shut. Everyone huddled round Stevie’s portable tranny. The boys usually got together on a Friday lunchtime to listen to the chart song preview show, guessing which would go up and which would go down in advance of the official charts being announced on Radio 1 on Sunday evenings. A generation of kids didn’t complain about polishing their shoes on a Sunday evening if they were just left alone to do it by the radio.
It was generally a boys’ only thing, but Laura and I were low profile enough to be allowed to be ignored in the same space. Plus, Stevie was trying to get off with Laura, and it was his tranny… and where Laura went, Jane went. No one paid any attention to the fact that an S4 girl had snuck in past Scooby. It was probably the first time they’d not noticed her in their lives. But they were waiting for something more important than girls, even that girl. Even the great Rachel Shaw. Normally Rachel Shaw entering the room would have been a big event in and of itself, and especially after the last disco… but today she was invisible.
Stevie couldn’t contain himself.
‘It’s got to be this week,’ he said.
‘Shut up and turn the sound up,’ Rachel said.
Obeying her while still outwardly ignoring her, Stevie turned up the radio.
‘Is this the real life, is this just fantasy…’ came blasting out from the tinny transmitter.
They settled in for the next six minutes.
Scooby was kept at the door, watching through the pane of glass that ran down the side of it, in case a teacher turned up. He was straining to hear – torn between his given job and his desire to hear the song.
Stevie, ever the showman, couldn’t help himself. He got up on a desk and acted it out…
Mama, just killed a man, Put a gun against his head, Pulled my trigger, now he's dead…
As the song changed tempo so the boys, like cars revving up, could barely contain themselves. Normally silent, Doobs took over from Stevie…
I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango, Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me.
The others could bear it no longer, they all joined in…
(Galileo) Galileo, (Galileo) Galileo, Galileo figaro magnifico-o-o-o… that was Billy
(I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me)… Scooby – from the door
He's just a poor boy from a poor family… the rest shouted back…Spare him his life from this monstrosity
The crescendo in the classroom began to drown out the radio itself… a cacophony of fourteen year old boys in full flight. It would make a music teacher weep.
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go
(Let me go) Ah, no, no, no, no, no, no, no
On and on they went, oblivious to the world around them, lost in the music.
Even at the time we were aware we were witnessing something entirely ridiculous and yet quite spectacular at the same time. No one dared tell the boys to shut up, though they were becoming raucously loud. Even Billy had joined in. Despite the fact that Rachel was there, he sang:
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby!
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here!
Stevie took it out with a solo of poignancy which Freddie Mercury himself would have admired.
Nothing really matters, anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me
Any way the wind blows
And momentarily, silence rained.
‘It’s got to be number one this weekend, Stevie said, spent.
‘Did you see it last night?’ Billy asked Rachel. No one else noticed but I saw they were now holding hands under the desk.
‘Yes,’ Rachel replied said. Their fingers were working under the desk like ducks feet flapping, but above the surface they remained remarkably cool in front of their peers. Of course they did. Billy and Rachel were the epitome of cool right then.
‘It was barry, eh no?’ he said.
She nodded. ‘My dad nearly exploded.’
‘I’ve never seen anything like it before,’ Stevie said, entering into what had been essentially a private conversation. He was like that, Stevie. No sense of boundaries. It was one reason Laura didn’t want to go out with him.
Meanwhile Scooby had abandoned his lookout post and was dancing round the room – the song had finished but he’d started up his own version of it. The boys joined in. Billy left Rachel (possibly for the last time before he never really left her again) and they set themselves up behind the desk, a quartet of faces and performed; for probably the first and only time in their adolescent lives with no sense of shame in the presence of girls, no desire to look cool, to act tough – they all just knew they were taking part in something bigger than music – this was history in the making.
‘It’s got to be number one next week,’ Stevie said.
Doobs was about to start a debate on what the word ‘Bismillah’ meant – Scooby said it was ‘Ishmillah’ and they were about to go at it hammer and tongs when Laura interjected. That pulled them up short. In our classes the rule was that girls were there to be seen and not heard. By the boys. Objects of lust or ridicule but not supposed to speak. Not unbidden. The challenge was made.
‘Can you believe that Billy Connolly knocked Space Oddity off the top spot?’ Laura said it with a slight jeer. She knew that Space Oddity had been the song all the boys had championed – until now.
‘That’s such a shite song. D-I-V-O… Who buys these records?’ Stevie asked. It was a deep question for him.
‘Girls,’ said Scooby. ‘Girls, that’s who. No taste in music. Girls shouldn’t be allowed to buy music.’
‘What?’ Laura couldn’t keep quiet at that.
The boys had been tracking David Bowie’s track up the charts for a month – watching as he took out David Essex, Rod Stewart and even Roxy Music. Bryan Ferry presented the boys with a problem. He was cool, damned cool, but you couldn’t say so because girls liked him too. Best keep baiting them with the likes of Hot Chocolate…
‘I believe in miracles,’ Stevie crooned at me, ‘Where you from, you sexy thing?’
I know I got a beamer as he danced round me, flicking my tie. I didn’t respond. I knew better. I had a better preservation instinct than Laura. It was like with wasps. Just stay still and soon enough they’ll move on.
‘How about it, disco queen, wanna hold me close?’ Stevie asked Rachel. Well, it was in her general direction, he didn’t actually speak to her. He didn’t dare.
Billy glared at him. Stevie backed off, knowing when he’d gone too far. He packed the radio back into his non-regulation Adidas schoolbag and adjusted his tie to make it just so. Just so not being the regulation school style of course. Big fat knot and no tail.
‘It’s got to be number one this weekend,’ he said. And that was an end to it.
After all, everyone knew what Rachel thought about Space Oddity already. It was sacrilege. It was lucky she was so… so… well, so Rachel.
‘You can’t dance at it at a disco,’ she’d said.
‘Hold me close, Billy,’ Stevie had quipped. Followed swiftly with, ‘Beamer!’
Which statement pretty accurately described Billy’s face, it had to be said. Stevie was wise enough to take off at that point and Billy chased after him. Rachel was left in a group of her peers, all of them pulling the ‘boys are so-o-o immature’ stance and none of them daring to ask her the details they were all dying to know.
Discography: Want to sing along? Here are some YouTube links – sorry about attendant ads – sure you can find these all on your streaming music delivery platform (if you have such a thing!):
Queen Bohemian Rhapsody https://youtu.be/fJ9rUzIMcZQ
David Bowie Space Oddity https://youtu.be/cYMCLz5PQVw
Billy Connolly D-I-V-O-R-C-E https://youtu.be/SzZzGxReXmo
David Essex Hold me Close https://youtu.be/9G2lqY3Nuk0
About the Author
Annie Christie is a pretty ordinary person, except that she was born Annie Christie and then married a man called Christie and so is still called Christie despite having taken on her husband’s name. She sometimes wonders if she should have called herself Christie-Christie: but who would believe that?
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
The Soundtrack of Our Lives is Annie's fourth McSerial written for McStorytellers.
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
The Soundtrack of Our Lives is Annie's fourth McSerial written for McStorytellers.