I was quite early at a colleague’s wedding last month, and picked a good spot, directly looking at the live band. And so I got to see the live band play, and it was a good band, versatile, could sing in a few languages (appropriate since my Malay colleague was marrying a Chinese), enjoyable to watch.
About two thirds into the night, the band began to ask for guests to join them on stage to sing. One guest did, performed ok for an amateur; and then another went on stage, and really just stole the show. It was clear that this middle-aged chap was used to performing with a band, and this band all strangers were just another group to jive and make music with. And so he did, improvising a jazzy up-tempo version of some song I’ll remember later, and he did it so joyously, he was so into it, that the band, bland and professional earlier in the night, began to flex and stretch themselves too, and put their energy into it, so that, when the second and last song ended with a flourish and the chap departed the stage to rapturous applause from the band and an audience roused from its postprandial doze, I couldn’t help but think that, if the bride and groom find the sort of happiness this mat rocker did making music with his newfound friends, they would be together for a long time indeed.
I was in Solo, Indonesia last November for work. And was disproportionately joyous when I saw bolsters on my hotel bed.
My pal got me a CD of instrumental renditions of some of 梁文福’s most memorable songs and I love it to bits. My pal got the same CD from her pal, and found that she didn’t like it much. Darned.