Who is Lizzo? WHAT?

 Talking to a colleague today, we got onto the subject of flutes. 

My colleague said he played one. 

Strangely, so did I, once upon a time when God was a boy. 

So, we did a "you show me yours and I'll show you mine" thing. 

My colleague, who's a part time musician, brought out a "flute" which is played in the Middle East. It has a reed not unlike that of an oboe. 

Me, from the back of my cupboard, I dragged out my flute. It's been sitting out of sight for years. I've owned it since I was 12.

I like talking music with my colleague. That I could remember that the oboe has a double reed, and the hole was known as an aperture was a testament to the retention of useless facts in my brain. 

That I can still play a tune on my flute - even stranger. I went through a set of scales this afternoon - it seems that your fingers remember the position of F# when you're playing a D Major scale without thinking. 

But I haven't played since high school. Yes, I was that girl with the flute case... like many other adolescent girls of the day who carted around a flute (or clarinet) case to school. At least they were portable - if not a little nerdy. 

Then again, the flute has always been a nerdy instrument. It was the instrument your Nana listen to on the car radio with her James Galway tapes. 

But now we have a new flute hero. 

Lizzo!

I mentioned this to my colleague, and he promptly asked, "Who is Lizzo?" (Surely, my colleague being under the age of forty must have hear of Lizzo). 

WHO IS LIZZO?

So, I told him about Lizzo. A feminist, body positive American R&B/Rapper/soul/funk recording artist, who also happens to play the flute very well. (She's classically trained) She was all over the news this week for playing a 200-year-old flute crystal in the Library of Congress - whilst twerking - her trademark. 

Lizzo is giving the flute some street cred. 

I say good on her.

But of course, there are a lot of very fragile, entitled, middle aged, white, conservative commentators who are losing their rag over this - for how dare a confident black woman trounce on something of such historical value.... How dare she, indeed. (Wankers).

For me, it was just a testament to muscle memory. And after a few scale runs I dug out my silver cloth and gave the flute a rub down, before putting it away, back in the cupboard again. Part of me says sell the bloody thing on. The other part of me says keep it, because you never know when you might go back and get lessons and learn how to play it again. 

Part of me knows it's just a memory from my childhood that I don't mind thinking about. 

Today's song: