Don’t get me wrong. It’s a fun thing to run a wee band and to perform a few times each year in the heart of London’s particularly fashionable but vehicularly inaccessible West End.
To that end, for 10 years I’ve been purveying my particular brand of jazz-melodic-groovebased-fusion-crazy-sounds for the audience to dig. Yet I still find myself driving home with the familiar sense of frustration that my personal performance level sits at a deflating 85-90% of where I’d really like it to be.