Of course, the democratic good offered by the likes of MySpace and the internet's other wondrous (ahem, legal) music-sharing outlets far outweighs the cynical, simply for opening up such opportunities for self-expression as have never been enjoyed so widely before, andzzzzzzzz...
Nah, honestly... My tentative recent steps back into the field of live performance outside the strictly-social bounds of family and friends, brought home just how much MySpace has become de rigeur for the amateur, aspiring-or-otherwise musician. Each time, at G-Lounge in Camden (memorable for its stripjoint-style signage and Scarface artwork), Storm in Leicester Square (with that night's simultaneous, audience-depleting Champions League final, and the happy last ten minutes I managed to catch) and The Dignity in Finchley (that of the frequent name-changes, stayed The Dignity throughout that evening's sets though may well have altered since last Sunday...), my exuberant sense of relief at stepping off the stage has been briefly disrupted by the word "MySpace...", "MySpace!" or, indeed, "MySpace?"
So, despite being too impatient to persevere with layered sound levels, too limited in technical guitar skills, too IT-illiterate to put together some proper-quality recordings, and, finally, too fingertip-worn-down to try out just one more attempt at conjuring a different voice than the annoying one that keeps surprising me from the tape recorder playbacks... - a few hissy, scratchy, scrappy, sloppy demos at least can be found here...
They say virtue is its own reward, but for some people, in this case, curiosity could be its own punishment.
Enjoy.
Or if that proves predictably beyond even the most optimistic listener - endure...
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