There are two types of people in this world. One type listen to a tune on the radio, from a CD, or on the television, tap their feet to that tune, get up and dance to the rhythm or simple turn it off, whether it is for the purpose of not liking it, or in need of a moment’s silence; then there are people who listen to that tune. People who listen to the changes in the tempo, changes to the key and melody, chords, bass lines, people who try to discern the instruments being played, how there are being played and in what style, ultimately playing that tune themselves. They practise hours on end, refining their technique, learning scales, breaking reeds and guitar strings, tormenting themselves by going to the local music shop to play hand-made instruments worth thousands. They keep endless amounts of notebooks, containing lyrical ideas and riffs for songs, as well as thousands of pages of sheet music which would make an environmentalist freak out and cry in a corner. They spend almost a dollar a minute, often more, on private lessons, learning from their mentors how to improve, trying new things, getting pushed to, and often, over the limit. They have hopes and dreams ranging from wanting to play at the local pub to head-lining an international show in front of hundreds, thousands, millions. Welcome to the madness, the madness that is the life of a musician.