Friendships feed our creativity — but some last only in memory
It's a strange trait of our communities that we can talk so openly about the ending of romantic relationships, but less so about friendships – yet both are equally as important
As the skies have turned greyer and the temperature cooler, I’ve sought comfort the tele. It’s the first time in my adult life that I’ve owned a TV, and I can’t tell you the pleasure of watching a film on something that is not my laptop screen amid the tens of other open tabs. I began – perhaps embarrassingly – watching the Disney show Only Murders in the Building and am now up to date after binging over three series in less than two weeks. But we’ve all been there, right?
It’s a silly series with Selena Gomez, of all people, solving murders in the fancy building she lives in New York with unlikely friends Steve Martin and Martin Short. I’m not particularly drawn to any of these actors, but I’ve found myself spending hours with them over the past weeks, becoming more and more invested in their friendship and stories.
I wondered if my mild obsession was more out of having a TV for the first time. But really, I think I’m drawn to the kind of friendship they represent. It is one that is unusual, that spans what we conventionally think a friendship should be, and it’s one that develops into a love and respect that can really only exist when people meet at the right time and place at a crossroads in their lives.
Like all of us, I’ve fallen in and out of love with many friends over the years, and only as I’ve gotten older have I been able to really acknowledge and grieve the loss of some of these relationships. It’s a strange trait of our communities that we can talk so openly about the ending of romantic relationships, but less so about friendships – yet both are equally as important. It seems we don’t have the language to understand and process these losses. Nor do we seem to let ourselves see when a friendship is sour, or when we rely too much on another, or them on us.
Relationships inevitably change as we age, and as we ourselves change. Often, a friendship might end where neither party is to blame. Simply, friendships are malleable and they can change shape just as frequently as our lives can. Of course, things can end badly, and we can only try to learn from the mistakes we made.
I remember a few years ago my dad reconnected with his best friend from childhood. He would tell stories with a nostalgic fondness of this friend of his and the way they’d play outdoors together as young kids. They were best of friends, but eventually went to different schools and lost touch as mates often do.
All my dad knew about this boy, now 70-plus-year-old man, was that he became editor of a railway magazine. My mum did some googling and found him online, sent him an email, and arranged for my dad and him to meet.
I’d hoped, and perhaps my dad did too, that this would be a beautiful reunion. That even after 60 years the ember of their best friendship would flame again. But in some ways this reunion was anti-climactic: they had a nice dinner and spent a couple of hours sharing memories and giving a short synopsis of their lives. They never met up again.
I first felt a sense of sadness for my dad, and for my own childhood friendships that have since passed. But he didn’t feel this way, he instead felt contentment – content that he had been able to meet the man who his young best friend grew into. Not everyone gets that chance. He’d accepted that they were friends at a specific time in their lives, and though that context is no longer there to connect them, at least they have the memories they shared together. They are no longer friends, but the love they had for each other all those decades ago will always be there, even if just in memory.
Amid the inevitable loss of friendships like these, there is so much to be cherished and protected. I’ve seen friendships grow to be incredibly close after starting out with distance. I’ve built loving friendships with people who live thousands of miles away and with whom for much of the year, we only communicate via voice notes. I have friendships that have an over 40-year age gap, and others with an age-gap of mere days. I’ve always made music from friendship and hope it continues to be that way. Friendships feed our creativity and our existence — whether you have a handful or many.
Blue notes
Speaking of friendship, we’re opening for Patiño on 10 October at Folklore in Hoxton. Hope to see you there!
There’s a new Dory Previn documentary coming out this month and I’ve kindly been invited to cover one of her songs at the after party.
As always, thank you for subscribing and reading!