I was rehearsing for tour and meant to capture a bit of me playing an old song for you, but then I started thinking about the world and war and what people do to each other versus what people are supposed to do for each other, and my voice trailed off because it felt, in that narrow moment, extremely stupid to be playing a song. I stopped my guitar and was taken by an inexplicable, frantic urge to loosen all my tuning pegs. I just kept turning and turning counter-clock wise, hopping from one peg to another. Then I slid the guitar down onto my lap because it absolutely felt like too much to keep holding it up.
Typically at this point I’d allow the darkness to win out and let the guitar slide all the way down to rest on the floor while I got up with nowhere to go, but I just kept poking around on the neck because the instant and tactile gratification of applied pressure and resultant sound was a much better distraction than anything else I could think of.
And that is how some songs get started.