I exited the Circle Line tube station with Cornish pasty in hand. Under my arms hung a box of cds and a pedal board, journeying with me to gig number two of our London leg. My iPod shuffled its way from Turnpike Lane thirteen stops to South Kensington and waited with me the six or seven minutes I stood in the cold awaiting my train. We had reached our pinnacle point; intellectually I leapt from the hurried tunnel out into the busied light of day. High Street Kensington was bustling: lanes of scurrying traffic, double decker buses pushing their right of way through; sidewalks of shoppers and well-to-doers; store fronts aglow with earnest yearning; and finally, me. And my iPod. Oscar Peterson’s “Fly Me To The Moon” began. The perfect serenade to the beginning of a lovely day. Despite the rush around me – the honking horns, the foot steps and the chatter – I found peace. My hands were full, my feet sore and tired, hunger pangs begging me to eat the pasty, and yet I was serene. I had a soundtrack. My life was larger than simply because I was being accompanied. My heart was full of song indeed, as were my ears. Perhaps they’re one in the same. I am in London to create music. I could not ask for a better life.
*Video from Sundance 2010