We report today, not in the news pages but in the cacophonous heart of times2, on an organist from Ealing who hired a four-piece rock band for his wedding. The musicians sat demurely round the altar for most of the service, accompanying some of the hymns but by no means making full use of their amps or wah-wah pedals. Then, for the recessional, they let rip with the theme to Mission Impossible.

It is not widely known that two people about to get hitched in a church do not have to choose church music, nor even optimistic music. Most do - the man from Ealing was a brave exception - and most are happy with choices that strike priests as well as pop critics as surprisingly conservative. To wit: Wagner and Pachelbel to coax the protagonists up the aisle, Handel to sweep them back down it and, almost inevitably, a spot of Dexy's Midnight Runners later on to make them wonder who the devil Eileen was.

And why not? A rite is not a rite without an element of sameness. There is nothing like the sound of two terrified people uttering desperately earnest promises against a stirringly familiar soundtrack to put lumps in throats and swell the meanest chest. Mem'ries are made of this.

But even more vivid memories are made when people find the courage to express a little of themselves through their playlists. Let us therefore salute, for their defiant eccentricity, the voters in Classic FM's poll of brides' choices who went for Chopin's Funeral March and Berlioz' March to the Scaffold. And, for their auspicious sense of fair play, the couple who hired a harpist to play the theme to Match of the Day.