Last night I went to see a friend perform a few songs in an old bar in an equally old hotel on the corner of a quiet street.
I arrived on time without much fanfare and was immediately greeted by my friend's boyfriend and the doorman. One said hello and embraced me with a hug, while the other promptly asked for $8.
I watched all three acts that night in a cramped little room that reminded me of the many black box theaters I once performed in, nestled between nondescript bars and corner markets in the East Village.
Each musician was unique, talented, and a real joy to listen to. I was glad I'd made the trek even if it was 8:00 pm on a Sunday night.
During one of the performances, it dawned on me that at a certain point there's little distinction between many of those who supposedly "make it," in the entertainment industry.
I would have had no qualms about stumbling across any one of their songs on the radio, or playing in a coffee shop. They were great.
Still, these musicians would likely argue they hadn't yet reached the success they hoped for.
I suppose once can take great solace in knowing that talent in this world is not in short supply.
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