Thursday 1 December 2011

Prog Rock Baby

Dear little LHG, at nearly four months old, is going through that time in his life when
he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

He’s alert enough to take an interest in all sorts of things, but not mobile enough to
be able to sit up on his own and join in. Imagine how frustrating it must be to rely on
someone else to prop you up so you can do stuff. He’s just started to have some
hand control, taking a swipe at toys in the hope they do something. Often he’s
rewarded with a squeak, a rattle, the manic neighing of a plastic horse or a twee
voice asking, ‘What’s the weather like?’ On these occasions, his eyes widen and his
mouth opens in surprise.

He loves noise, creating it and just listening to it. And if there’s one thing that can be
(almost) guaranteed to calm him down when he’s ratty and can’t settle to anything,
it’s music. Giovanna only has to put on a track by Beethoven, Mozart or some other
classical composer and he’s instantly quiet.

‘I expect you to be able to play this when you’re three,’ she told a mesmerised LHG
the other day, referring to Rondo alla Turca (the Mozart piece played by Mrs Hurst in
Colin Firth’s Pride and Prejudice, for those of you who are fans - and who isn’t?). A
little ambitious maybe, but his mummy, daddy, aunty and uncles and two great
grandads are (/were) either musicians or musical, so why not?

Of course, while Giovanna wistfully imagines him playing wonderfully complex
classical pieces on the piano, Daddy JW and uncle Peter might have other ideas.
JW is a drummer who teaches youngsters to play. Uncle Peter, a rock guitarist who
also dabbles in electronica, has his nephew earmarked as the next Jimi Hendrix.

And LHG himself is showing early signs of interest in prog rock. In the car, crying fit
to bust at the indignation of being put in the car seat, a burst of Genesis or Yes will
relax him and he’s comatose for the rest of the journey.

For the moment all he can manage is a tiny plastic maraca, and I’m always afraid
he’s going to whack himself in the eye with that. Still, it won’t be long before he can
hit Daddy’s drums with a stick. Then we might all be regretting any musical
ambitions we had for him!