Tonight I watched a BBC documentary about The Everly Brothers. It didn't tell me anything I didn't already know but those sweet voices got under my skin. There is something about brotherly voices, a baritone and a tenor singing one third apart on the scale, something in the DNA ensures a perfect blend.
It was the entrance to a wormhole from which I have only emerged two hours later. After the documentary I delved into distant parts of my music archive to seek more harmony. A big dose of Buddy Holly, a dash of The Beatles, and I'm wallowing in half a century of nostalgia. What's this dad? The girls were curious. Resisting calls for Taylor Swift I persevered with a medley of The Beach Boys' Californian genius. Remarkable that bitter in-fighting and drug-fueled arguments should produce such enduring melodies. Then Barbara Ann got all our feet tapping.
After a while I realised I had been singing loudly for longer than I can recently remember. I hope the neighbours shared my enthusiasm. After a further brief run through Blondie's hits and a detour via Cockney Rebel and Squeeze I decided our time in 50's 60's and 70's harmony was up. The spell was broken. But it can (and will) be cast again.