Never Give Up

There were more of us on the stage tonight than there were in the room,

which is a joke I've been telling since before some of you were born.

The piano's half a tone out and the barman's counting up,

and I have played to worse, and I have played worse, and I'm still here.

Now, I gave up the record. I gave that up at about thirty-four.

Gave up the band, gave up the city, gave up the flat with the bad heating.

Gave up the year I said I'd have it by. Gave that up twice, actually —

I moved it once and then I let it go, and that was a good day.

Never give up.

Well — give up plenty. I did. I gave up nearly all of it.

Give up the plan, give up the deadline, give up the shape it was meant to be,

give up the version of yourself somebody sold you at nineteen.

Never give up —

just not on the next go.

That's the only one on the list.

Never give up on the next go.

A young lad asked me after, very kindly, if I ever thought of packing it in.

And I laughed at him, and he was quite offended, and I apologised.

'Cause I have packed it in about eleven times, properly, with a speech.

I've just never managed to still be packed in the following month.

Here's what nobody says about it, and I wish they would:

quitting is a skill. It's a good one. You want to be able to do it.

You cannot pick a better thing up with both hands full of the last one,

and I have watched good players hold on to a bad plan until it took their hands.

So it was never "don't let go." Nobody survives "don't let go."

It's: let go of the whole lot, and then be back in the room.

Not fixed. Not certain. Not with a better plan than last time.

Just back in the room, with the thing you can actually do.

Never give up.

Give up everything else — honestly, give up loads.

Give up the deal, give up the shape, give up the age you'd have it by,

give up being the one they were going to write about.

Never give up —

just not on the next go.

It's the smallest instruction anybody's ever handed you,

and it's the only one that's ever worked.

And I'm on again on the first of next month.

Same room. Same piano. Same joke.

Still here.