The difficulty is that with all the adrenaline buzzing about while I’m performing, it’s all a bit of a blur.  Sometimes when I get off “stage” (whether that’s an actual raised area with a space for a drum kit or a corner of a pub that leaves me standing on my cables), I look down to find that my fingers are bleeding and actually quite sore, with no recollection of any pain during the gig.  Ew.

But to answer the question.  My whole focus is on what’s going down well and how well certain songs are going to work with the audience on that night.  Because audiences are different every gig.  Sometimes they’re deadly quiet, sometimes they’re raucous.  At worst they’re raucous and uninterested and you can’t hear yourself think, let alone sing.  This happened to me one particularly bad time in the basement of a West Cornwall Pasty Company on Kings Road.  Never again.

But if I can hear myself, I’ll try and lose myself in the words, take myself back to the frame of mind that spawned the song.  If it’s a story, I’ll have created a whole scenery in my head.  So while I’m singing Red, I’m seeing the guy in his flat, drinking his beer, listening to the girl outside.  I’m not in the venue.  It’s an amazing place if you can reach it. 

However, I think there’s a strong case for coming back to reality every now and again.  You need to see how people are listening (if they are at all) and to throw in a smile and a mad dance around.  Because the problem with losing yourself in the lyrics too much is that you can wind up looking like a pretentious twat – all eyes closed and forgetting you’ve got a crowd to entertain.  There’s nothing better than catching someone’s eye while you’re playing and sharing a smile.  As long as the song permits. 

But then sometimes, I’ll just be desperately trying to remember what the next fracking chord is.  It’s not all that high minded after all.

This site is going to be a hub of anything creative I fancy sharing with y’all from now on.  So I’ll update it with dates of when you can come hear me sing, serialise a short story that’ll never get published, inflict some poetry on you and maybe even post the odd recipe – or just link to the ones I like.

For starters, the first part of A Wonderfully Quiet Unconscious is up for your delectation (just hover over ‘BLOG’ and click on the link that appears).   More from Liz will follow next week.

Much love.