It was a quiet 20 minutes at Emerald Room last night. Just Spring, the Orca, and the Cooltron Bulldog. I didn’t plan a song, didn’t aim for a riff — just let the notes find me.
The Bulldog — often misunderstood as a rough, loud beast — proved once again that she’s only as wild as I ask her to be. With her, I can draw claws or feathers, fury or grace. She’s not just distortion; she’s discipline. She breathes with me when I play gently, and she roars when I command her to.
Spring sang beautifully through her neck pickup, slow and unhurried leads gliding up and down the fretboard. A wrong note here and there didn’t matter — they belonged, too. That’s the magic of it.
I realised that I don’t play to impress anymore. I play to listen. To feel. To be both the guitarist and the audience.
Because in the end, I am the audience to my own music. 🎶