If music be the food of love, I'm buggered! Now, it might have been ok for 16th century playwrights and drippy dukes, but for a 21st century guy music is a minefield. At best I'm seeking a partner with compatible tastes or at least a musical preference that is tolerable. At worst, it's a real deal breaker. How can anyone really consider going out with someone whose idea of makeout music is a toss up between Will Young and the 'Best' of Andrew Lloyd Webber. It's just not fair, no matter how pretty they are.
If I was sensible I would be a chameleon and like whatever is cool at the time, perhaps even getting the associated haircut into the bargain. However, it's just not in me. I tend to find most modern music a bit repetitive, dull or repetitive and dull, being far more at home with Benjamin Britten than Britpop.
My friends recognise an earnest interest in music in me and generally choose to give it a rather wide birth. Despite this, they do use it as a method of matchmaking, saying things like, "you will get on great with her, she loves music".
So off I trotted on a date sold to me by a self-confessed lover of music only to be stumped at the first mention of Robbie Williams, Cold Play and some other miserable James Blunt clone.
I had absolutely nothing to contribute to a discussion on their collective artistic merits. I honestly would rather have been supper-gluing my tongue to a beehive. But, being a gentleman, I smiled and nodded. I heard myself saying things like, "yes, he is a very interesting artist", and "really, he has a new album out, how thrilling". Then I started to imagine Sunday mornings fighting for control of the hi-fi…and depression set in.
All too often I'm on a date when the topic of music arises and things descend into something resembling the closing moments of Titanic. All hell is breaking loose, women and children are heading for the lifeboats (my date included) whilst I stoically conduct the band to one last waltz as the icy water seeps through my spats…(it helps to have an imagine when your single, it really does).
So if music really is the food of love, I had better get a call out to Jillian McKeith as I've had about as many sonic Pot Noodles as my ears can stomached.
First Published in September's Rocks Magazine