Frustrated Musician

Looking over at my yet-to-be-restrung guitar this morning I thought about what it would be like to get paid for playing music.  At a concert I attended last year and then at Justin Currie’s show a couple of weeks ago I kept imagining what it would be like to walk out on stage and perform in front of an audience that knows your songs, likes your style, and feels some sort of connection to the music.  I can’t imagine a better feeling than that.  The frustrated performer in me wishes I could have that experience.

I’ve written rather alot of songs over the years, and now that I’m clumsily playing the guitar and composing some stuff that people much better than me would probably be able to play, I find my mind turning once again to performance.  Years ago I sang adequately at weddings and (very under age) at grungy Liverpool pubs.  Even though the songs were mostly hideous, I hadn’t written any of it, and the people I was singing for wouldn’t remember my name or the sound of my voice five minutes after they left, I found a bit of satisfaction in that.  How much greater would it be, then, to play my *own* stuff for people who actually want to hear it, and to play with others who share that same drive?  I don’t even think I’d mind the travelling and random hotel stays necessary for touring.

Day jobs are great, but I could get used to the musician thing.

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