So, one of the frustrating aspects of playing my stuff with a group is that the songs are pretty much fully realized in my head, but I'm obviously the only one who's hearing that version in my head, and if what we play comes out conflicting with that, I get pretty frustrated. I don't want to tell them what to do -- Christ, they're not machines -- but it's frustrating when they take my songs and make them into something else. I don't want to step on toes, I don't want to tell them it's wrong, but it's not like what I had in mind. And since I typically never write anything down, I sometimes don't know how to explain what I want. If I attempt to explain it in Lindsey terms ("You don't want to blow your wad too soon on this one"), I'm usually met with laughter.
But this morning, as Bill was leaving the house and I was going back upstairs with my tea, he stopped me and told me -- out of nowhere -- that I shouldn't hesitate to tell the group what I was looking for. "If you ever step on my toes, you'll know," he said. "You have a vision," he said, "you know what you want it to sound like, and you need to make that clear to everyone else."
You have a vision. I don't think anyone's ever said those words to me before. WOW!