I Ain’t Dead Yet!
Reflections on Billy Bragg’s concert in Singapore — Part 3
It was a hot and humid evening and I was not in a good mood. I’d just finished teaching a full-day seminar in an unfamiliar school. My colleague and I had spent months planning the program and it went off well, but I was exhausted.
I enjoyed the day a great deal, but I pushed myself hard to give a good lesson and was feeling the aftereffects. Being a good teacher requires a mix of topic knowledge, technical abilities and an open, caring heart. My wife always encourages me to relax and take more time for myself, but I tend to find the most joy and validation in assisting others.
I felt irritated because I needed to travel directly from work to make it to the concert on time. I did not have time to run home to wash up and have a nice home cooked dinner with my family. Instead I carried my concert clothes in my backpack so I could change before the show.
When I arrived, the first order of business was to find dinner. Next to the station, there was a whole host of delightful food options, but nothing vegan, so I search for the NUS hospital where I knew I could find vegetarian food in the canteen. I ordered a plate of rice and a few dishes, but the food was horrible. The vegetables and curries looked like they had been out since lunchtime.
After dinner, I went to the public toilet in the hospital to change my clothes and wash my hands, face, and forearms. I felt dismayed because I wanted this night with my son, who was attending his first Bragg concert, to be special and all I felt was exhaustion.
Once I’d freshened up, I looked in the mirror and said “Paul, you’re going to have an amazing night tonight!” and I felt better.
I met my son at the subway exit. He was all dressed up and looking forward to a great night out with me. My heart melted, and all I could think about was showing him a good time.
At night, the National University of Singapore is beautiful. The towering tropical trees and bushes and the warm streetlamps made me feel like we were in a tourist bus traveling through a tropical resort. My son, who plans to attend art school and never considered NUS, was amazed by the campus’s size and beauty. We arrived outside the NUS Arts Theatre and were struck by the beautiful modernist architecture that housed all the campus’s concert venues.
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We walked past a swanky bar and it was filled with well-dressed expatriates smiling, laughing, and sipping tall glasses of ice cold beer. I would have liked to join them, but the concert doors were opening soon and we wanted to get to our seats early to enjoy the atmosphere (air-conditioning) in the venue.
We walked into a large atrium where more expats stood around drinking and laughing with their friends. I figured they were either business people, international school teachers, or British or American embassy staff.
I saw one man standing and drinking beer alone and thought I should go up and talk to him. He was sporting a vintage Bragg concert T-shirt that made me envious and I wanted to trade Bragg stats — “When did you discover him?”, “What is your favorite album?” and “How many Bragg shows have you been to? However, my focus that evening was hanging out with my son.
The concert doors swung open and the smiling Singaporean ushers, zapped the QR codes on our phones and advised us to walk down the hallway into a small theatre. Although it was a tight and intimate space, there was a floor section and two levels of wrap-around balconies. My son and I were seated at the front of the first balcony, because the tickets were cheaper and I surmised that the acoustics would also be better if we were further from the stage. It turned out to be the perfect spot.
My son scanned the audience and it was packed with 40 and 50 year-old Gen X males and remarked in Singlish, I’ve never seen so many ang moh’s (white people) in one place in Singapore. I laughed with him, then I shushed him because I did not want any misunderstanding. I don’t find the expression ang moh offensive, but was concerned that others might.
At 7pm sharp, Bragg walked in with his guitar slung like a rock-and-roll troubadour. I put all the worries and stresses of my day out of my mind and I sat back and enjoyed the evening.
His show was not meant to market his new album, rather he performed a set of his greatest hits. His setlist was a gift because it allowed me to sit back and reflect on my life and all I have been through in the past 35 years.
With each song, more memories flooded back to me and I became emotional. I’d first started listening to Bragg’s Talking to the Taxman about Poetry not long after my brother died in a jaywalking incident.
By the time his album Don’t Try This At Home was released I would be dating a beautiful, intelligent, and loving Singaporean woman. When William Bloke was came out, I was already living in Singapore, a country I never knew existed.
As Billy played all my old favorites, the film of my life passed through my mind. At one point, I started laughing with great joy, because I realised “ Hey, I ain’t dead yet!”
My life has been a circuitous journey, and I’m still alive to tell the tale. “Who would have guessed?
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