The Leader of the Pack

As Becky's silent partner (not silent enough, she says), I have many roles. Carrying stuff, mostly. Driving, too. But from my seat at the back of the room, or at home from the other end of the sofa, I'm uniquely placed to observe her special brand of manic genius. I'm there when the ideas come, and I see how much work goes into shaping them long before they get to the singers.

I like to think I know a bit about songs, too. My CV includes stints as a radio presenter and a music journalist, and I won't let the fact that these days I can barely hear my own farts stop me from offering the benefit of my expertise. And I know how much she values that input; she tells me so every time, before she uniformly ignores it.

A classic example of this occurred very recently, when she unveiled the 60s girl group medley. I read through the lyrics, listened intently to her recordings, and suggested that the spoken word intro to Leader of the Pack should probably be cut. Appropriately, given the song, I thought it had "car crash" written all over it. And yes, I know it's about a motorcycle, but you get the picture (yes, we see).

As is Becky's wont, she dismissed my concerns. She has faith in her singers, and she trusts her instincts. Above all, she seems to have no concept of just how bad her American accent is. And so at this week's rehearsal we went through the song, while I waited to see the wreckage like a rubbernecker on the A1.

I treasure the times I'm right, because they come along so infrequently. The sound of 65 "American" accents every bit as bad as Becky's, rarely in rhythm with the track or each other, was hilarious. The laughter started, as it often does, on the stage with our fearless leader, and quickly flooded the room. And it was glorious! Then it was back to work. Everyone stuck to the task, and by the end of the session it still wasn't perfect but it was much much better. Maybe I wasn't right after all...

Sometimes I sit at the back of the room and the harmonies I hear give me goosebumps, but sometimes there's just as much pleasure in the shared experience of things going wrong. We don't have to be perfect. We just have to wring every drop of joy out of our time together. I love the music, but it's the people that keep me coming back every week. That and Becky's steadfast refusal to get an Uber.