December is a list-writing month. We read lists and we write lists all month long. List after list after list. Christmas lists, shopping lists, to-do lists and still-left-to-do lists and Oh-My-God-I-have-too-much-to-do lists. It’s a wonder we ever get anything done at Christmas in our refusal to be parted with our precious collection of post-it notes.
A band you love and worship have announced they’re going on tour, and like any crazed fanatic, you are up at the crack of dawn on ticket release day to ensure you and your mates will be there to see it. It’s a stressful procedure; you have a thousand and one tabs open. You’ve prayed more times in one morning than you ever have in your life that your computer can withstand the pressure and won’t inconveniently crash. The refresh button has been pressed so many times that it feels as though your index finger has undergone an intense workout and is starting to ache from all the clicking.
Today I was a bit down in the dumps.
This wasn’t for any particular reason – nothing tragic has happened – but I just really needed cheering up. Those who know me tend to recognise me as the ‘mad happy, smiley person’, but today I was not really feeling my usual smiley self. I needed someone or something to make this mad smile come back.
Setting apart a performer from an artist in the world of music is as pointless as debating which came first, the chicken or the egg. The simple answer is, we don’t know, and never will, because ultimately what makes an artist an artist is completely down to interpretation. However, that shouldn’t prevent us from giving it the consideration it deserves.