This week, I introduced my Princess to the glory that is INXS. I announced to her of this great privilege and childhood rite that she was about to undergo and with appreciation and anticipation, she queried of me, "what's an INXS, Mama?".
Do you remember the first time you heard the bands name? Did you giggle as you figured out it's meaning, or like me, did you try to say Inkxs?
How impatiently I would wait for each new video to be played on Countdown and later Rage, to admire, with abject adoration and some intimidated hesitancy, the marvel that was Micheal Hutchence? I mean the man could even pull off a 80's hair.
I began her softly, gently, considerately with "Suicide Blonde" at full volume.
For the first listen through, I didn't even sing along. Just to be nice. And allow her the joy of hearing their music without my wailing cacophony destroying the intricate blending of sax, guitar and vocals.
I may have raved about how awesome this song is (for each track on X).
I may have rambled on about my memories of dancing to Suicide Blonde in 1990 at the friend's house to whom the record I am playing actually belongs too - beware anyone who is thinking of lending me ANYTHING.
I may even have explained to her that I sing Suicide Blonde every time the peroxide and I go for another attempt.
She is used to it. Used to her eccentric Mama.
She loves the one on one time and the dancing. Is all good.
She learnt that houses with floor boards are not suitable for energetic dancing at the same time as playing one of Mama's precious record collection. (I am seriously OCD about Vinyl - Hubby is still not allowed to touch them as he does NOT have the intense enough level of Vinyl respect)
I thought this a very good lesson in house structure. Plus we tested the floor boards for the place that disrupts the gentle balance between diamond stylus and immacuate vinyl. The corner by the window won out as the least interactive with the record player, with the bonus of all the neighbours being able to get a giggle from our silliness.
She liked the drums, (the drums, the drums!) The pretty guitar twangs. The awesomeness of the Sax. My Princess was singing along by the end of the second replay.
I have her permission to play INXS at any time. It will be on for the sleepover tonight. I may even try out "Kick" on them. Though, "Need you tonight" is almost aural seduction. Maybe "The Swing" instead?
One important note though...
My Princess is 11. She has noticed the other girls noticing boys. She thinks this is a bit gross. (YES!)
If I ever show her the album covers, will the images of one of Australia's sexiest, wickedest and possibly most indulgently decadent men send her straight into puberty? Does he still hold that power, deceased and a generation on?
Or will her adored David Tennant continue to hold her heartstrings safely, with his wild and yet gentlemanly style?