The band wanted something skeletal, naive and unrehearsed for the new song. I gave them inept, tortured and hesitant

It is Monday afternoon. I am in a recording studio in London with a few members of the band I’m in, George the engineer and Ben, a trusted collaborator. We’re listening to a bare bones version of a new song, but my mind wanders a little; I have only just arrived after a weekend away, so I was not part of the morning’s work that got us here, and I’m barely part of the present discussion. Mostly, I’m here for moral support.

When the song ends and I return to myself, everyone is looking my way.