Carpe Diem

Right, first off, this isn’t one of my usual posts. It’s not one of my sarcastic/critical/mindless postings, but something that I’ve been thinking about posting for a while as a cautionary tale. It will also contain some details of my life before becoming the Psychotic Monkey and will give a little insight as to how I’ve turned out today.

When I was younger (about 12) I went to a secondary school (as most 12 year olds do). Whilst there in Year 1(Year 7 they call it nowadays), everyone was offered the chance to take extra-curricular music lessons in an instrument of their choice. Lots of us signed up across various different instruments, everything from the flute to the drums. Me, I went for the drums (as they sounded fun and a bit more practical than a wind or brass instrument).

I was assigned to a teacher named Kel Dennis. A name I knew well as my brother had been taught by Kel’s father. Kel was an incredible teacher. He could play just about anything, but loved being behind a drumkit, and therefore I always saw him at his most passionate about music. One of the trade-offs for being taught an instrument (for free) was that you played in a local Campus/Concert band. These were great organisations where all of these people came together and played music, generally developed their musical and social skills, played concerts, and generally had a blast.

I joined one such band in my local area and was immediately thrown in with some superb musicians and percussionists (people who have since gone on to have their own bands in some of London’s more well known Jazz and Swing venues). It was such an eye-opening experience that these people who had so much more experience than me, and that were technically so much more gifted, were more than happy to share techniques with you, and to listen and comment when you learnt something new – even if they already knew it themselves.

The sense of community was incredible and the 7 years I spent in the band were fantastic times that I’ll never forget. Then it came time for me to move away from home and go to University. I was put into Halls of Residence and had nowhere to store my drumkit, so it was time to sell it. It wasn’t something I did lightly, but it was necessary at the time. And so my drumming ended (or paused as I believed at the time). I never managed to go back to it, and often wish I could, but I now have very little time to be able to return to it.

One thing I do miss is the community spirit of being amongst that size group of like-minded individuals. And this also went across the taste in music. I learnt so much about music while I was there that it staggers me now when I think about it. I listen to music in a whole different way now. Over the past few years I’ve considered finding out when the band are playing a concert and going back to see them, just to see how good they are (in our day we were good – we had awards to prove it and won competitions) and to thank Kel for the inspiration he gave me and for the musical enlightenment that it brought.

Unfortunately I’ll never get the chance to do that as Kel died 2 years ago from cancer. His death sent shockwaves through the musical world in my hometown and is something that I doubt the music scene there will ever recover from. He was an incredible man with such a passion for his music, and he managed to instil this sense of passion in everyone he taught.

So why Carpe Diem as the title? Well now that I can’t, I want to thank him more than anything. I had so many opportunities to do just that and yet I didn’t take a single on of them, and that’s something that saddens me so much it hurts. I have dreams of going to see the band again and being to chat to him about music, and waking up brings me back to the reality that I’ll never be able to do it.

I missed Kel’s funeral, at which an estimated 600 people turned up. He was a legend and he is very sadly missed. As a tribute to him, a road on a new housing estate has just been named after him. Ironically this road is a stones throw away from where the band used to meet every Monday evening. If it means that someone who lives there in a few years time asks who he is, does some digging and discovers the joy that he brought to so many people, then that can only be a good thing…