Songwriters, I encourage you to document everything. Record it, notate it, etch it into hieroglyphics, really whatever.

It might feel like a waste of time, spending four hours banging your head against the wall, tearfully pleading to whatever higher power will listen to please, PLEASE give you a “Let It Be.” But oh no my friends. Because the day will come, like it did for me today, when you get to use a riff you wrote fifteen freaking years ago in a brand new song that’s actually two songs, written five years apart, stitched together, and you’ll perform a happy dance that’s entirely improvised and, mercifully, not captured on any video you’re aware of.  

And you’ll play that song for and with friends, and they’ll like it, and you’ll resist the temptation to tranq dart the one who reaches for the accordion, initially out of respect for their having brought Chick-fil-A to the session, and later because said accordion actually sounds pretty damn good.  

And you’ll listen to the voice memo on your drive home, marveling at how you can’t imagine your life without something that didn’t exist just a few hours prior.