I have recordings of myself, mostly improvisation, going back thirty-five years. The quality of the recording is pretty horrible because tapes deteriorate and I couldn't afford decent equipment then. Every so often, if I'm in the mood, I grab a tape at random from the pile and hear what's on it.
One interesting thing is that ideas I had thought came to me only recently turn up on forgotten old tapes in embryonic form. In other cases I am overwhelmed by my playing when young and start to worry that I have deteriorated both physically and mentally. But then I realise that some of the ideas I have now would have been quite beyond me in my twenties and I am reassured.
I certainly do not reject my younger playing; it's too full of the life force for that. Rather I tend to see time as a dimension and experience a desire to synthesise, to view everything as a compact musical manifold in time. What I was then is part of what I am now and vice-versa. I frequently use the tapes to return to old emotional, intellectual and musical impulses.
But I suppose that is a reflection of my general philosophy; the conscious formation of a oneness has always been natural to me. Nothing I ever think about is ever really in isolation in the time dimension. So called "primitive" peoples have a word for this - "the long body" I think. In our haste to move, progress and achieve within deadlines we Westerners are becoming prone to ignoring our past, dreading the future and snatching as much as possible of the material present before the final trip to the cemetery.
Therefore, utterly strange as it seems, Old Ted can learn much from Young Ted through listening to his recordings, at least that's how I see it. Mind you this is from the point of view of a creator; I cannot say how an interpreter feels when listening to old recordings except that I play the same pieces better now. There would be something the matter with me if I didn't though, after all that practice.