Edel Coffey: As Kate Bush reached number one, I felt the urge to play my guitar again

Edel Coffey. Photo: Ray Ryan

So Kate Bush is number one again at the age of 63 with her 1985 hit ‘Running Up That Hill’. The song has hit the top of the charts 37 years after its release thanks to being featured in the Netflix hit show Stranger Things.

I wouldn’t ordinarily think the age of an artist is relevant to their achievements, but in this instance, Bush has broken a record. She is now officially the oldest female artist ever to have had a number one hit in Britain. The title was previously held by Cher who was the grand old age of 52 when her song ‘Believe’ topped the charts back in 1998. Cher tweeted to congratulate Kate, saying: “Remember back in the day when women had short sell-by dates we had to fight our way through the testosterone curtain and we did it so the girls who came after us could sing as long as they want to.”

Arresting and all as the image of a testosterone curtain is, the thing that really surprised me was how unusual it still was to see older representatives in pop music. It’s always been an art form associated with youth, but it’s still surprising to me that many of us stop doing the things we loved doing when we were young.

The Slits singer, Viv Albertine, in her marvellous memoir Clothes, Clothes, Clothes, Music, Music, Music, Boys, Boys, Boys wrote about how at a certain point in her life and her career as one of the most influential artists in punk-rock music, she felt too old for it all. Seeing just how remarkable it is for an older woman to have a number-one hit got me thinking about the fact that sometimes it can feel like we are expected to give up our youthful pursuits after a certain age, and just how counterproductive that is to leading a joyful life. When we’re trying to find a hobby, the advice is to think about what you loved doing as a child, because as children, we choose to do only things that we truly enjoy.

So why would we stop doing those things as adults? I suppose life and responsibilities can get in the way, but we can be our own worst enemies too, feeling self-conscious about doing certain things beyond a certain age. For example, I used to play guitar and sing in bands and got a lot of pleasure out of music. I spent my 20s and most of my 30s doing this. We did it properly too — gigs, tours, and a CD (this was pre-streaming and mercifully pre-social media too). I played my last gig at the age of 37, when I was seven months pregnant with my first daughter, my electric guitar perched side-saddle on my conspicuous baby bump. I stopped playing after that. A voice in my head suggested I was “a bit old for that now”.

Last year, I came across a middle-aged skateboarder called Tony Hawk. He’s still skateboarding at the age of 54. He can’t do all of the tricks and skills he used to do, but he still skateboards. Why? Because he loves it. Nobody tells him he’s pathetic or too old or that he should do something more age-appropriate. We don’t tell artists or writers they’re too old to do the thing they love doing but music, particularly rock and pop, seem to have a cut-off point. I wondered might it be time to go back to the things I had jettisoned, the pleasures I had set aside as “childish things”. 

One of my favourite quotes is by the author and holocaust survivor, Edith Eger. She tells a story about prevaricating over whether or not to apply for a PhD. She realised she would be 50 by the time she got her doctorate if she did do it. Fifty! What a ridiculous age to achieve something. So old! And yet, when she spoke with a clearly very wise friend about her reservations he simply told her “You’ll be 50 anyway”. It’s not like ageing gracefully stops us ageing, so why wouldn’t we age disgracefully, or whichever way we want to? Telling yourself you’re too old to do the things you enjoy is courting anhedonia.

I have no desire to play guitar on a stage ever again, but playing for fun at home is a form of meditation, it feels like what people refer to as ‘flow’, art for art’s sake, craft for craft’s sake, doing something for the pure joy of it, not with a view to publication or performance, not with a view to exposure or critique, just you, in your room, doing your thing.

Recently I felt the urge to play my guitar again. This time I listened to it. I went out and bought a little amp for myself, some new leads, and new strings for my very old guitar. I dusted it all down and plugged it in. Boy was I rusty, but it still felt great (even if it didn’t sound great). As the strings rattled and reverberated, I might have been mistaken, but I think I felt maybe not young but… ageless. Thankfully doing the things we love has no age limit.