Musical Dreams By Rich Mills

I wish I could play an instrument. It's not that I haven't tried. As a child I had classical guitar lessons, but soon dropped them as I just couldn't get my small fingers across the wide neck of even the ¾ size classical guitar that my grandmother had bought me. Later as I hit my teens I tried again, joining a guitar class at the YPI on George Street. Once again it was a non-starter. I just couldn't play the guitar, I had to accept that. So I thought about other instruments.

I toyed with a keyboard for a while, but couldn't even get my head around chop-sticks. No Bobby Crush was I going to be. Drums were a definite no-go area, my mother made that clear. So I went next for a harmonica, an instrument I've tried a couple of times since. When the Saints Come Marching In was just about recognisable. The problem with playing the harmonica is other people. They don't seem to appreciate my lack of musical talent. Which resulted in every harmonica I ever bought, disappearing and no-one admitting to the theft!

I have tried a Jews Harp, as I thought no-one can get that wrong. I did, often causing my teeth serious damage as I bit down too hard, and the twangy-bit would smash into them. Now I just settle for the fact that I have no musical talent; my talents lie elsewhere. So I console myself with a small bongo and a quiet moment when no-one is around to hear my lack of rhythm. I don't care, it's a release, of some kind!

There are times when it sounds almost okay to me, anyway. I do wish I had been musical though, I always wanted to be in a world famous rock band. But then again doesn't everyone?

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