Crimbus, Barcelona.
Construction work underway near my hotel room this morning. The Crimbus lurched away from the hotel at 11.11.
Lurch lurch.
A grey day.
12.10 Bump bump bump bump.
Friday Night - Saturday Monring 4-5th. July, 2003; 01.13
Crimbus Outside Venue, Barcelona.
Another fucking spoiled evening.
My playing has suffered in response to the constant photography. Or maybe I'm just not playing well. The flashes tonight carried a different intent to usual: tonight many were deliberate spoiling moves. There was a vindictiveness behind the flashes. And they succeeded. They had an effect that will carry beyond this evening. So, I should begin to plan an alternative future to one based on live performance.
I asked John to reposition my rig tomorrow, to put the Lunar Module at 90 degrees to the front of stage. This faces me away from the audience more than usual, more than ever. It marks a qualitative shift in my performance mode, to exclude the audience from my focus to an extent that substantially invalidates my being onstage.
I am not playing well, and that disturbs me.
"When a musician believes that music is a commodity, music dies in them."
