Good Or Shit: Getting Old, One Symphony At A Time

I’m getting … older.

It kind of happened without my realising it. Then one day I got up and started listening to classical music. Classical music.

Changes in my physical and psychological self, that up until that moment had been taken for granted, became apparent for what they were.

Pain in my left shoulder, and in my right knee; grey hairs that can’t simply be yanked out, they have to be coloured – just the thought of which makes me tired – and don’t get me started on my chin, I’m half-Croatian! Unwanted body hair has been a life-long curse, how can I actually be growing more of it?

Fine lines on my face that weren’t there before, not being able to stay out past 10.30pm ‘cause I’m tired, and because I resent spending the money. I no longer want to spend money on clothes and the pub, I want spend it on travel and interior decorating. Interior decorating.

As I found myself humming along to an orchestral string section, I wondered if this new stage in my physical and psychological, shall we say, maturity had anything to do with a four-month music malaise where I’ve failed to find anything new I like, or discover a new love for something old.

Desperate times call for Spotify playlists, which are fabulous for two reasons. The first – someone’s done the hard work for you; the second – they have such wonderful titles. Dark and Stormy, Just Cry, Walking Like a Badass, Unrequited Love, The Happy Hipster, Folking Sexy, Coping with Loss, and so on. As my workmate pointed out – there’s a playlist for every mood, a compilation for complex emotional states such as being happy and tired, at the same time.

But I’ve spent the past two weeks listening to Deep Focus, Peaceful Piano, and Music for Concentration; to Keaton Henson’s 2014 album of classical instrumentals - Romantic Works, which is so achingly beautiful it makes me wanna ache all over the place – and the soundtrack to Disney nature documentary The Crimson Wing: Mystery of the Flamingos, a classical album composed by The Cinematic Orchestra, and performed with the London Metropolitan Orchestra.

The London Metropolitan Orchestra… How long before I’m enjoying cosy nights in watching shows like Doc Martin? And country drives searching for the perfect scone? Eaten after a picking up a new piece of pottery in the craft market? God, this sounds so good.

Atmospheric instrumentals, cinematic extravaganzas, lounge music, elevator music, aquarium music, hotel lobby music, the kind of music you play in deserted car parks late at night to deter violence.

I call it 'train-in-the-rain' music. Because Keith Kenniff’s Anyone is the kind of thing you want to listen to when you’re staring out the window of a train, riding through a vast urban landscape under a grey sky, a lone surviving drop from the previous downpour trailing down the thick glass.

And the London Met and The Cinematic Orchestra’s Transformation, as the train rolls out into the countryside, and the sun bursts through the clouds, and the world momentarily reveals itself.                     

Before a thick fog descends with the twilight, and Keaton Henson’s mournful Healah Dancing makes you pull your shawl tight around your shoulders, and you’re pretty sure you can see him, out there, walking the moors… Heathcliff?

In 2013, researchers at Cambridge University published a study about how our taste in music changes throughout our lives. It begins as a means for exploring, discovering, and asserting our identities. It then becomes a mode of communication, a way to interact with peers, find our place in society, and find someone to mate (their word, not mine) with.

As we edge closer to being middle-aged, our taste in music evolves in to something that conveys a deeper emotional understanding, of a broader life experience, and a higher intellect.

In layman’s terms: when you’re a teenager, you listen to angsty, angry stuff like punk rock or rap or Natalie Merchant, because you’re trying to work out who you are and gain some goddamn autonomy in a world run by adults who just don’t understand.

Then you move on to things you can dance to in bars and clubs and at parties, because in your early adult years this is how you bond with friends, and where you’ll likely find that special person you want to do all that future adult stuff with.

As soon as you near middle age, you’ve experienced all the fun things like failure, rejection and loss, you’ve survived them, you like yourself a whole lot better, you’ve found your mate, you’re Googling wedding dresses, saving for a house, and listening to classical music.

Of course, these are generalisations. I’m not suggesting that creeping toward middle age or being in the middle of it means we all just stop listening to punk rock or trance and start building jazz collections. Many of us will still be metal till we die. But there does seem to be a connection. When my mother hit her forties, she didn’t stop listening to the Rolling Stones, but she did start listening to Gregorian chants.

I’m in my early thirties, so I’ve still got a while to go before I’m middle-aged. But I’ve experienced and survived a fair bit of failure, rejection, and loss. I feel more equipped to deal with those things now. I may even have a deeper emotional understanding.

And I’ve developed a newfound appreciation for a more soothing sound on the stereo. And wax strips. Did you know you can use them on your chin?