A lovely, though exhausting musical day yesterday starting with a sing-along (and guitar-along) in Congleton Library.
Later, the 'Look Out Here Comes The Boss' event which had a large array of performers paying tribute to Bruce Springsteen. Most of the night was musical, people singing Bruce's songs, though there were a few original poems read, including a new one by Deborah about Tom Joad from Grapes of Wrath which included Springsteen lyrics, and two poems from Cherie. I sang the song I wrote for the night, 'My Guitar'. My performance wasn't quite how I'd rehearsed it, it was somehow much better, a little slower and more considered. I rarely play guitar live, I rarely play guitar at all, but this was certainly my best live guitar and singing performance so far. I have a long way to go regarding guitar playing. Are all performers always learning? I, at least, am always learning and striving to improve in all things.
There were many highlights of the evening, and actually every song and performance was very good, yet it was the overall warmness and welcomeness of the evening as a whole, the inclusive nature of John Lindley as host which made this, like all of his evenings, so nice.
We returned home at about 11:30 and I slept until 10:30, feeling somewhat weak and aching everywhere. I just don't seem able to digest enough or rest enough to recover these days.
A busy month is ending; one turbo-charged with admin work on older music, but I can't see an end to the treadmill. Changing distributors is an opportunity to change things, remaster old works, and a good many, 10 albums perhaps, could do with this, and all without really much work per-se. Most of the work is the administration side rather than the technical music work. That is now easier than ever.
Yesterday, between the morning and evening events, I managed to schedule the new Flatspace videos, so those are now ready and that release is now ready too.
My 'new album' is still waiting, and when that's done I must remaster or re-record parts of The Myth Of Sisyphus, which was the next in line. Yet, the summer sun is flying and I've not painted a thing, and my book on painting techniques has stopped at 20,000 words. I barely feel I'm doing anything artistic or new or brilliant. I feel trapped in a quagmire of this older music, and I may feel so for a year or two while I re-order it all. Perhaps this is the inevitable 'shoring-up' of the charging forwards with vocal music, which began in 2020.
What can I do but my best? What can I do but the most I can do? What can I do but obey my nature, to order, perfect, improve, neaten?
Onwards I must roll my rock, towards that nest bend in the road. Towards that next ridge. Towards that iron horizon of twilight.
