I’m feeling a slight flush of confidence, having just watched a clip of me trying out
some new material at last Thursday’s Mostly.
If you think that
sounds arrogant, then you don’t know me well. In reality, I’m my own worst
critic (however much Steve Bennett would like to steal my crown). Nothing I do
is ever good enough. When something goes well, I still manage to find what I
perceive to be the least successful aspect, and fixate on it. If I’m in a particularly
destructive mood, I’ll sabotage my performance from the inside, by deciding
it’s going awfully and making it known.
(“Give us a gig.”)
The irony is that
no-one seems to notice. Even my most disparaging reviews tend to say I look
confident. Maybe my lack of faith in my ability is normal and I’m just giving
myself a hard time. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I wish I could take on board
that I’m not always as bad as I think I am and that, maybe fleetingly, I might
occasionally be good.
(Nearly giving
myself a compliment has made me feel sick.)
I’m certainly
happiest onstage when I’m working with Glyn. It’s like slipping on a comfy pair
of shoes. We know how each other will respond to a situation and feel secure in
each other’s company. That’s what a decade of being a double act does for you.
On my own, I’m
still learning. I’ve always distracted away from myself in the past by playing
the guitar, or by pointing at slides with Glyn (in a projected and not a
playground sense). If I continue to work at it, I should eventually feel more
content in my ability. Or maybe I won’t. Either way, I want to be better. I’d
also like to not start writing blog posts so late in the day.