Saw a great band last night. Not sure what their name was, or whether they even had a name. Might have just been a bunch guys who jam together a lot and do the occasional gig for beer money and the hell of it. They were a five-piece jazz combo, kicking out the jams at the Greenmount Surf Club and I almost missed them because I had the kids with me and it was getting on for bedtime when they kicked off.

But what the hell. We're supposed to be on holidays this week and although modern children are raised in a cloud of music, with most of them being able to work an iPod like champions by the age of five, other than the occasional Wiggles concert I'm guessing that for the most part their exposure to live music is pretty thin.

A pity. Because live music rocks.

Sure, last night's unexpected show wasn't akin to catching a guerilla gig by Death Cab for Cutie, but damn those old dudes played some tight little numbers. Made me wish I'd had a coupla buckets before heading out for my burger 'n' chips.

The kids loved it. The room was jumping. And it all put me in mind of some awesome gigs I've rolled into over the years, often by accident, and strangely enough most often in Tasmania. Don't know what it is about the apple isle but they do turn out some great pub bands down there.

Made me wonder how it is we come to lose contact with music as we get older. It's not that we fall out of love with music. Nowadays we carry it with us at all times. But of course there comes a day when you realise it's been a year since you made the effort to get out and see a band or, er, whatever it is the kids these days see.

And that's a bummer. Because no matter the style. The era. Whatever. There are some great musicians out there every night, doing their thing for us. If only we had the time to listen.