Human endeavour is a curious thing. A lot of what we do is little more than instinct. Watch any wildlife program and you see exactly the same behaviour patterns that human beings have always displayed. It's just that we like to kid ourselves that we're somehow superior when in private we like being as animal as possible... What? The same goes for war. It's just an extension of one herd against another in competition for something. Most animal species have learned to ritualise such behaviour to minimise casualties and indeed so have we. It's called sport. So a little hint to moslem fundamentalists - practice your soccer skills guys - it's just as effective in making your point as blowing up the enemy team.

But is there more than simple instinctual responses? Is there something deeper? As a spiritualist I have to say yes, though I do point out that latent quality is present in all living things, and that usually our four legged friends have better things to do. Like eating, sleeping, and making baby animals (after headbutting each other for a couple of hours).

The reason I ask this is a conversation I had back at the programme centre. We were sat around chatting, constructively of course, and in the midst of the chatter the subject of my musical career came up. It turned out that one of the guys at the centre was also a drummer in his glory days, but that like me, for various reasons he didn't play anymore. He added that he'd recently felt an urge to get back behind the kit and do something.

I understand exactly what he means. Despite all commonsense, experience of failure, and general lack of talent, the urge to bash the heck out of a drum kit is insidious. That chap described it precisely as a 'little acorn' that grows and festers away until your revitalised hobby causes a divorce - as indeed he suffered not too long ago. The real point is where this urge to play music comes from. You could argue it's simply part of what we are biologically. I might argue it's our spiritual side impinging on our decision making process. What? You want an argument over it? Okay buddy, put 'em up....

The Need To Practice

Now that I'm working on my new album (the first in twenty years - you can sort of tell the royalties have run out) I've rediscovered how pigging difficult playing a musical instrument well can be. Of course I can still play. it's like riding a bike - you never really forget, just fall over a few times until you remember how to balance yourself on it).

For me the worst thing is actually finding the time to do anything, and that's despite my absence from the workplace in recent times. When you're young, idealistic, and full of enthusiasm it all sort of takes over your life and playing music is pretty much all you do, and the urgings of the older generation to get your hair cut and find a job go unheard. Now of course I'm older. Which means growing my hair is a sign of anti-social nostalgia for my lost youth and that playing an instrument no longer makes you immediately popular with your mates.

That little acorn is still there, nonetheless. Egging me on, making me look over my shoulder whistfully at that dusty Marshall stack and wondering if the neighbours deserved a rendition of a heavy metal guitar riff I last played a quarter of a century ago. That is of course a blind alley, one just as insidious as the need to play in the first place, as simply repeating the same old riffs over and over is not entirely a creative process, and isn't the creation of something new and unique the entire basis of art?

Looks like I'm going to have to practise....