Playing live: why bother? Because it's the best way to see the world; it's the most direct way of communicating your ideas to an audience; it gives you a buzz, not just the audience; it ensures you keep your ability up and keeps you on your toes; it's the best fucking feeling in the world!

If this cross-section of replies to one of the questions in MTease is anything to go by; it seems that most musicians are still drawn to the idea, and seldom abandon it completely - even though for many of them, the logistics of exporting their music to the stage would take on nightmare proportions.

In fact, the word 'nightmare' regularly crops up when considering live performance by hi-tech bands: the prospect of hauling fragile computer equipment around in a van, relying on temperamental disk drives to load data between songs or working on the same stage as spike-inducing lighting systems is enough to send the average hi-tech musician scurrying back to the sanctuary of the studio. So, again, why bother?

I think it has something to do with a musician's idea of the 'audience' when sitting down to write a piece of music or practising with a band. I really can't believe anyone visualises potential listeners sat in some bedsit quietly foot-tapping as they idly flick through a magazine, or on a train, listening to the music through a cheap Walkman. However, much as this may be the reality of the situation, for most people the image of an audience is of an excited, cheering throng clustered 'round the front of a stage totally immersed in the music - and providing an instant reaction to it. They either like it or they don't, you only have one chance to get it right.

In many ways, it's the knowledge that a performance might well be greeted by a thumbs down that provides the adrenalin surge which is so much a part of the attraction of playing live. Knowing the consequences of things going seriously wrong is also the reason most people tend to shy away from relying totally on hi-tech gear and opt for the use of backing tapes - or worse, put together bands to go out on the road. It seems to me there's room here for some enterprising manufacturer to address the problem of playing live by designing equipment more suited to stage use. Of course, they would probably argue that it simply isn't worth it, given the number of bands playing live these days. Of course, they'd be wrong. One only has to look at the revitalisation of the cinema in this country to realise that after years of entertaining themselves at home, people have once again discovered the value of entertainment that requires a certain amount of effort. And with a number of huge multimedia events already being announced for this summer, and organisations like Megadog putting together a series of truly memorable shows, live performance looks set to flourish once again.

Should you worry about things going wrong on stage? Well, long before the days when computers were small enough to take onstage, I was playing in a band (OK, it was the drums, if you must know - but I grew out it); we were supporting a major band at a 1500-seater hall. It was the most prestigious gig of our career and we had every reason to believe that we were being watched by a number of people with the money/influence to do us some good.

The gig had gone well and I had just launched into the drum intro of our penultimate song - the point at which we really had to get the crowd to its feet. Lashing out with my right hand to hit the crash cymbal, somehow my drum stick ended up underneath it and, it being short of the requisite wing nut to keep it in place, whisked it into the air like a deranged frisbee. Realising it lacked the aerodynamic shape necessary to keep it airborne for more than a couple of seconds, the cymbal suddenly fell to earth - edge first - neatly severing the bass guitarist's lead and rendering his entry into the song void. Gesticulating wildly to the roadie waiting in the wings, I watched him smile at me and continue tapping his foot; by the time I'd made him understand, it was too late, the song was finished. Had the audience noticed anything amiss? Actually, no...