This was published 7 months ago
‘Nobody noticed me until puberty’: This musician’s memorable summer
By Jane Rocca
Bruno Major is a musician who is best known for his debut album, A Song for Every Moon. The 36-year-old shares the song he wrote dedicated to his grandma, his mum’s advice for success, and how his first girlfriend helped shape his career path.
My maternal grandmother, Elfriede, lived with us for a few years before she passed when I was 22. She actually lived in the house next door to where I grew up in Northampton, but spent most of her days at our house. Mum was the one who stepped up and really took care of her in the final stages of her life.
I wrote a song, Tears in Rain (For Granny), about my paternal grandmother, Peggy. The last time I had a proper conversation with her was when I visited to make her a cup of tea. She sat in the chair she always sat in and recalled dating in her youth and what her life was like when she was younger. I realised in that moment I was talking to her for the last time.
My mother, Frankie, is a wonderfully smart woman, a genius with languages. I get my ability to use words from my mum and my musicality from my dad, Ashley. I have a deep ability to love – that comes from Mum, who got that from her mother.
Mum speaks six languages. She recently took up Italian and can already speak it fluently. She ran her own business successfully but became a full-time stay-at-home mum when she had me and my brother. She went back to university later in life and is now a French teacher.
Mum always said, “If you do anything in life, make sure you’re the best at it.” Whether I was learning to play guitar or become a songwriter, seeing Mum succeed as a mature-age student, working so hard to run a household and still committing to her computer at night, was really inspiring.
My first guitar teacher, Sue Williams, was a huge inspiration. I started playing when I was seven and she made everything fun. She was also incredibly talented; I used to marvel at her because she would play me something, and I’d be like, “Wow, I want to be able to do that.”
Girls didn’t pay much attention to me at school. I didn’t hit puberty until I turned 16. Nobody noticed me to that point. I grew a foot over the summer break and my voice broke and suddenly, I had girls talking to me. I didn’t know what to do with the attention. I used to hide in the music block and play the piano instead.
Some crazy things happened when I was 16. A family friend died by suicide and then his brother died shortly afterward as well. It was around this time I was diagnosed with a heart condition [Major had two operations – the first aged 16, the second at 21], moved schools and went through puberty. Girls weren’t really front and centre, to be honest.
My first girlfriend was a singer who taught me my first jazz chords and shaped my career path. She explained the bare bones of harmony and is the reason I went to study jazz at Leeds Conservatoire.
I remember trying to work out what I would do after school, and Mum and Dad would tell me to do what makes me happy. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be a journalist or a musician. I learnt from an early age about mortality and the preciousness of life and the idea you might not be here tomorrow. It forced me to live in the moment.
I dated a girl for three years while I was at university and have been in and out of a long-term relationship with the love of my life for five years. My music career is pretty intense right now, and while I would love to settle and become a dad, that sort of lifestyle isn’t compatible with what I do as a musician.
Bruno Major’s album Columbo is out now.
Lifeline: 13 11 14.
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