Rehearsal Spaces, A Guitar and A Voice

Two hours spent in a basement. Just a guitar and my voice. No microphone. No windows. Not one of those designer rooms.

Empty walls with a few acoustic foam panels. A carpet that's probably never been cleaned. The noise of cars passing by. The solitude. The disgusting but familiar smell.

It's also the way I remember my beginnings. My first band's rehearsal spaces. Same smell. Same taste on your tongue.

The claustrophobic feeling with the feeling that everything is possible.