Gawd. My recording chops are rusty as hell. Performing, the little clams might as well have happened a hundred years ago after thirty seconds. And I’m all about leaving on the rough edges, but not if I have to live with them hanging over me. It’s totally psychological, you play little games with yourself, and I haven’t played this particular game in too long.
I can’t get through half a song I wrote. It’s a challenging piece for me, but I can get through it live convincingly enough. Maybe I should start with an easier one? Suuure…and i should tune the piano. He who waits to do something perfectly will never do anything, and a beautiful thing is never perfect.
It’s a ritual, really. If I nailed a take today, the tuning woulda haunted me. So consider it practice. God, I’ve practiced that piece, the arrangement, left hand, right hand. Argh.
I’ll tune the piano. Then maybe some more bungled takes. “The lighting isn’t right,” I think as the sun goes down and I’m too obsessed to turn on a freaking light. Hungry now. Diane is making taquitos and guacamole.
How can I take a break when I haven’t done anything? Will I get back to it tonight? Maybe I should get some beers. The piano isn’t holding a tune, should I try tuning it at night? Maybe tuning out during the day, it’s slipping when the temperature changes at night?
I’ll never finish another album. This has to be The One. I have a bunch of great material, I can’t fuck it up like I always do with shitty filler. Maybe another EP-length, who even listens to albums anymore?