I have been assuming that over the past couple of years that my guitar technique was in terminal decline simply due to advancing years. (I remember my middle age crisis with nostalgic fondness.) I mean, my fingers feel stiffer in the morning (…would that”¦ oh, never mind…) and it takes them longer to get into the stride of negotiating a fingerboard. Also, subjectively, I seem to be making more fluffs – sometimes to the extent of missing a string – or even the damn’ guitar – entirely. I was accepting this all with a philosophical grace rooted in the existential reality of my increasing decrepitude.
Anyway, as a prelude to unplugging and packing my studio in preparation for a house move, I thought I’d transfer some old CD-ROMs of stuff I’d recorded a few years ago to my hard-drive via Cubase. I was looking forward to listening again to those silky skills that I possessed of yore. But do you know what I discovered? You guessed it.
I was just as crap then.