The sounds of P4, from the compilation tape assembled by Chris, accompanied my packing. Chris left here at nearly one this morning. Any audient planning on visiting a P4 performance please come bearing goodwill and open ears; carry your expectations lightly. If you have no idea of what you'll hear, you will be only marginally less informed than me.
The past 12 days have been a changing point, although in what / which particular way I don't know. But the future is closer. Personally, I flew in very tired; I had clear plans, suggestions, music to present. None of this worked, the plans were dropped, despair and doubt embraced, the Great Divide traversed, and - on the other side, something. What the "something" is I don't know. This is encouraging: if I knew it, the "it" would only be in terms of what has gone before. In other words, not creative in its essence. A creative future can never be forecast, although it's quite possible to have an intimation, or sense, of a creative future approaching. I have that now. But to allow this future to embrace us, we have to drop our demands on what that future holds.
Perhaps this creative future has no place for me as a guitar player or working musician; perhaps DGM is where the muse would prefer me to put my energies; perhaps King Crimson has honorably done the work which it had to do, and should cease to exist; perhaps Guitar Craft needs my attention.
But look! all of these possibilities are cast in terms of history! The creative moment is utterly novel: it has not been here before. It is impossible to describe its content beforehand. In the moment the "click" happens, and the connection is made, that future seen - then, everything changes. In the world where the "creative" is "normal", a future is instantaneous. In our world, that instantaneous moment unfolds in time and is discovered as it unfolds. But in the creative world, it has already happened. So, our experience is of moving towards a future which has already, creatively, taken place.
Perhaps the patient Web visitor's patience has run out with these pratty reveries and, snappily, suggests: "Isn't it easier to stop typing and just play?". Sure - but first you make the 'phone calls, plan the tour, book the flights, arrange rehearsal rooms and ship piles of stuff.
"Being a slob is hard labour."
