Prince playing "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" with Tom Petty, Steve Winwood, and Jeff Lynne at George Harrison's induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2004.

To shred or not to shred? Sometimes a little restraint to serve a melody can shine brighter than scorching a solo.

A cop pulls a drunk over and demands that he get out of his car.

The cop says, "Obviously, you've been drinking. I need you to perform a sobriety test."

The drunk, swaying back and forth, answers with a smug slur: "Oh, really? You think I'm drunk, huh? Would a drunk be able to do this?"

The drunk then violently swings his arms above his head as he does a fast, deep knee bend. He then lets out a howl, craps his pants, and falls over in a stinking, moaning heap.

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Every time I play guitar in public, my internal critic is performing a coup on my self-esteem.

Pretty much every time I play music in front of people, the sound of what I play will at some point be drowned out by the imaginary criticism of everyone within earshot. I'll be having a great time making music, then hit a note I don't like, and it all changes. From then on, all I hear are the collective thoughts of the other musicians, audience, and engineers. Their unified minds join together in unanimous, silent chant: "You suck. You do not belong here." All are united by their disdain toward me … rightfully so.

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