Reimagining flights

Notes on how music can transform wine

Commercial flights are a privilege. If fortunate enough, they allow us to travel from country to country. Yet they are restrictive. Baggage allowances and 100ml liquid rules. A lack of space means that vacuum-packed travellers must jostle for elbow room just to be able to eat a dish of reconstituted dog food from a tin foil trough. We become wedged in our seats for hours, trying to find room to stretch our legs — a feat more difficult than squeezing into a child’s nursery swing post-Christmas dinner. So I’ve heard.

There is something especially cruel about flying economy. The journey to the cheap seats serves as a ‘have a look at what you could’ve won!’. The flight attendant wraps a consolidatory arm around your shoulder as they usher you away from the top prize. You want the caravan but instead will have to settle for the set of darts and bendy Bully. And so, just like on a quiz show, the curtains are drawn.

It’s not only space that is limited on a long-haul flight. The wine options too are often found wanting. ‘White’ or ‘Red’ reads the menu. Sometimes there’s a ‘Sparkling’ option if you’re lucky. In 2022, British Airways appointed Master of Wine, Tim Jackson MW, in order to ‘elevate the premium experience for its customers’. Good news for travellers in First who can now quench their thirst with a glass of Dog Point Sauvignon Blanc or Château Haut-Batailley. Not so much for the hoi polloi out back still sipping on antifreeze from a paper cup. Beggars can’t be choosers.

There is one saving grace however. Music. Unless you’ve neglected to download several hours of playlists and albums, music can always be counted on to elevate any experience. The simple act of listening to music increases blood flow to the limbic system, a group of structures in our brain that regulate our emotions. With the right music too, certain flavours can be enhanced. Previously ‘simple’ wines can be reimagined, their characteristics amplified and embellished. Hidden aromas emerge, and a new wine is born.

Knowing the power of music, it’s therefore always important to keep an open mind when served a flight of wines eight miles high. Here are my notes from overground.

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Wine 1: Sparkling (probably Crémant)

Not all that sparkles is Champagne. This cup of Crémant de Neewhere is a rabid dog, a foaming snarl of a sparkling wine. Best kept at arm’s length. If only I had the luxury of such space to do so. Let’s press play in a bid for placation.

The growl fades. The dog’s jagged canines are filed down by the bassline. The wine’s bubbles play a relentless four-to-the-floor on my tongue, mirrored in the kick drum on the opening track. The rolling toms like rocks tumbling downslope. Fresh green apple. A haywire guitar solo streaks through the song like an impatient moped rider in a traffic jam. Lemon curd. Slick’s call to prayer brings out a sweetness in the wine. Brioche loaf.

The hostile opening sip has finally found peace. A nervous energy replaced by a feeling of excitement. A buzz. I’m flying high as a kite.  

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Wine 2: White (something Spanish?)

I spy with my little eye something beginning with ‘iceberg in my Blanco’. Brrr. Did someone open a window in here? The fuselage has been turned inside out like a discarded sock. My hand is beginning to burn from the cold paper cup. Shards of ice have become beached on my bottom lip. Perhaps I’ll be able to smell something as we make our descent. Ten hours from now. Time to phone a friend.

Hints of citrus fruit emerge. The cornerstone of any white wine worth its weight in pale lemon. The anaesthetised patient is slowly coming round, showing some signs of life. Lemon zest, orange rind. An undertone of grapefruit. The cup warms a little in my paw. A syncopated guitar brings fresh tarragon, Bootsy’s bass a juicy honeydew melon. I have to check the flight’s tracker to make sure we’re still only flying at 30,000ft. 

Looking down, the wine has turned into the surface of Venus. Tumbled citrine. A minimoog plays hopscotch across the Milky Way. A taste of salted honeycomb. Tingling. Taut. A sweetness kept alive by the jittering horns and elastic sax. Next stop, Neptune.

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Wine 3: Red (Merlot, no doubt)

Red wines are normally a safe bet, whatever the quality level. They’re softer, juicier, the acidity significantly lower than in sparkling and white wines. Still, I know we can do better than this. Let me clear my throat!

Drop. The beats rain down hard in great dollops of strawberry jam. Thunderous guitar riffs come like clotted cream. A trio of voices enter, interweaved, a career built on shouting from the rooftops. Enraged, but full of intent. The plane goes into spasm. The blood from my nose has pooled in the cup below. Ferrous, sticky, and sweet. That’s not turbulence, that’s the Beastie Boys. Hic! 

With each record scratch a new flavour is introduced in the wine. A factory reset for my taste buds. Frrrippp. Black plum. Pppbthh. Vanilla. Skreekch. Chocolate. The tannins, once flimsy and lightweight, are tender and chewy like the inside of my cheek. More iron.

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Through their albums’ artwork, each of these three artists have reimagined aviation in some way: a World War I-era triplane with the body of a San Francisco townhouse; a flashy Cadillac replaced by a spaceship; a Boeing 727 with a snuffed out marijuana joint for its nose.

Music allows us to perceive things in a slightly different way than normal. It adds colour to the experience and revamps the mundane. With the help of music, not only can it drown out the drone of aircrafts, but it can transform a simple line-up of sparkling, white, and red wines into a flight to remember.