Always my constant companion, music of all kinds has sustained me when people and life in general have fallen short. Live music, at its best, can be transforming and life affirming but with a child, work, study and other people’s problems to juggle I went without late nights and loud music for way too long – apart from the occasional concert.

Returning at last to the sticky floors and beer fuelled punters of the music pubs of Sydney was like going home and yet, frustrating, as I found that straight and sober and with no crowd of mates along for the night, my older self is more demanding and a lot less easily entertained. Fidgety and easily bored, I now look for something that lifts the night and the band above the average.

Sure, I want my rock harder and funkier, my punk more thrashy, my metal more brutal and melodic, my accoustic more beautiful, my jazz more complex and challenging and my blues dirtier than ever. I want to see people sweating up there, giving me my money’s worth, making it worth leaving home. Ability, talent, originality and a dose of stagecraft and charisma are the minimum requirements (not for success sadly, but that’s another story!)

But there’s more, an elusive X factor somewhere in the equation – something that only some have to offer. It doesn’t always bring stardom, and is to a large extent, very much a subjective reaction. But when I see it, hear it and feel it I’m as happy as when I was 25 and throwing myself around at the front of the Trade Union Club with several drinks and maybe something more illicit in my veins. Back when life was simple and sleep was a waste of time.

I’d been thinking about factor X when I heard someone speak about rock music as a a ‘primary colour’ – to put it simply.. its sex.

And that’s it, the way the bass and drums kick in right in your guts, the delicious tingle that a guitar riff can create on your skin, the way a charismatic singer or beautiful song can draw you in so the two of you are alone in a sea of souls, the resonance of a chord or a melody that makes your heart lift. Its the tribal glee of being as one with 500 strangers singing and shouting together while at the same time you’re alone amongst the noise, conversation impossible, TVs and poker machines blocked out, nothing matters but the moment and the music and the people on the stage. Finally you fall out into the street, sweat soaked and sated, maybe a little bruised.

Great live music is like great sex. Its the type of sex you used to have with a new lover at a time of your life when new lovers were easy to come by and easy to discard. Intense, electric, abandoned and joyous, different every time, every nerve in your body alive and tingling… sex that makes your brain expand.

So, as life is inevitably more predictable, new lovers improbable and chemical thrills unsustainable; as work and ill health and bills create a routine that is unbreakable and the thrill of travel is often out of reach.. can live music be the answer to my mid life crisis?

It means often being the oldest person in the room, starting late in the evening and staying awake and sometimes going out alone. I don’t go every night, or even every week – but when I do, and when its good and the X factor is pumping – I feel energised, renewed and happy for days, weeks even. I’ve made some new friends and rediscovered a couple of old friends, I haven’t had to buy a red sports car, get divorced, find a young lover, shoot up botox or spend a lot of money..

I remember now why I’ve always liked being around musicians, they’re creative, funny, frequently extremely rude and most importantly, passionate about what they do. I’ve also affirmed that twenty somethings today are not all alcopop sizzled, birdbrains. Many are thoughtful, smart, politically and socially engaged and happy to converse about important and unimportant things with someone twice their age.