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Fussin’ and fightin’

Fussin’ and fightin’ with the guitar. Some days it won’t sound like it did the day before. Some days it feels like butter, and others the hot knife that cuts through it. Some days I want to caress it gently, and other days I want to do a Townshend on it. Most days I simply wish I played piano instead. More expressive maybe, unless you suck at it that is. Always that possibility.

I’m confused is what I am.

I know what kind of record I want to make, but some of the songs aren’t cooperating. A song is like a child. You can try to put some controls on it, but it’s gonna grow up and be what it wants to be.

So there. I feel lousy. Must call upon the ghost of Noel Gallagher.

In a bit…


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