Peaks and troughs.

Playing music, doing it live, is my bread and butter. I wouldn't like to guess how many gigs I've played, but I've been doing it since I was sixteen. Barely a week has gone by without a single gig since then, so I'm guessing it's a lot. Certainly hundreds, perhaps thousands, feels like millions. Not all of them are memorable, fuck, not all of them are even fun. But there's something to learn from all of them.

When it's good, it's great. Some nights it's the most beautiful experience imaginable, when all the stars align and everything is wonderful. Some nights it's just farcical enough to be hilarious. Some nights it's work. Hard, sweaty, unrewarding work. I know this: playing the night of an England football match is a surefire way to get the latter. On Wednesday I was subjected to a new heckle, or a new one on me at least. "Play some Neil Diamond you ginger cunt". I've heard plenty of memorable ones, but that's a new favourite. I can't imagine what it was about my act that made him think I would, but I'm sure there was logic in his brain.

But mostly, it's a great thing. Touching people without actually touching them, opening their eyes to something new, a song they've never heard, maybe even a sound they've never heard...it's a hard way to get rich, but I wouldn't trade it.

Viva La Songs,

Tom.