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I guess its a common feeling among creative artists; the occasional wave of ennui that creeps over one to take root in that part of the brain where doubts lie sleeping; the insidious feeling that it all amounts to nothing or at least, very little.

I had a dream that I was in a black bird suit, sitting in my garden in one of those Victorian iron gazebos. The dreaming me had memories of being able to fly but in this dream I chose to remain grounded, imprisoned, looking out and up towards the sky. I think there was a fear of failure, a shrinking away from anything astonishing; a feeling that perhaps I didn’t deserve such happiness and freedom.

This feeling is the opposite of how it is to improvise, which involves sudden decision-making and bold steps. Interesting how our musical selves can be so unlike our out-in-the-world personas and yet during this improvisation there are moments when I am in the crow suit, not quite daring to take that extra leap in case it all goes tits up. Still, I’ve heard it a few times now and I do think I’ll be nicking bits of it in the future.

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