ABBA fan

Just became an ABBA fan. A generation or so behind perhaps but I never claimed to be into cutting edge stuff. I am not the kind of fan who starts screaming with joy when their music comes on. An appreciator might be a more clinically accurate term. I certainly have NOT contemplated purchasing any albums or bothered to download anything. Mrs C’s stash of ABBA is sufficient. But I have to confess that I like the sound of their music and the words.

Perhaps this cataclysmic event might have happened earlier in life if I had bothered to listen to the music. ABBA songs was always in the background when I was growing up. My parents used to playing their favourite LPs of the same few ABBA songs whenever they had the chance. I had very little idea what the songs meant. Not sure what the specific songs were since they are all blurred in with the absurdities of bell bottoms and safari suits. As an adult I just went along with the general aversion to the seventies and its cultural radiation.

The insane cold that has floored me for the last few days has opened a few sluice gate of cultural awareness. In-between bouts of 3am coughing and slugs of assorted medicinal brews, I have had the time to soak in the ABBA. Actually been able to listen to the lyrics. Which from the few that I have listened to – are quite positive and affirming. A refreshing contrast to all gloom and doom that is the news.

I am certainly no music critic and a clumsy attempt at ABBA analysis here would be futile. Suffice it to say that being married to an ABBA fan has made me into one. A departure from my usual musical preferences. More amazing since I had given up listening to music (other than whatever flows out of YFM on the chariot’s radio) in the last few months. But that’s another post.

Thank you for the music (and for reading)