If you're going to name yourself Carlos Guitarlos, you'd better make sure you're a damned good guitarist. So good, in fact, that you can play anywhere, out on the streets or in a fancy concert hall, with the uncanny ability to pull from memory just about any blues-rock classic and, on top of that, play it in a style that's uniquely your own.
And then, somehow, you should also be so good that you can write and sing dozens of your own originals, in all manner of genres, from bewitchingly sad ballads and deft Beatles-like pop structures to ragingly dirty blues and Latin soul.
You'd better be so good that you can become a waste case midway through your long career and piss off all of your remaining friends and end up living on the street, and — when you finally stagger back to your feet like a punch-drunk boxer — still play like a mother and earn the plaudits of a new generation of loyal fans. —Falling James