It’s always frightening to be reminded of the strata of our world. The amazing musicians who could be big… if only they were prettier. The strangeness of speaking to a white face behind a fast food counter… and the shame that follows that realization. Beyond that, wondering what a such beautiful woman is doing behind the counter at a KFC – and then realizing she’s just too young to be getting huge tips behind the bar at a high end tavern. Listening and watching as the world is divided into races and ages and standards of beauty. Thinking that beautiful girl will soon triple her income, and be treated like meat by every patronizing patron. And the more she acts like she likes it, themore she’ll make.
I hate seeing it and I hope I’m wrong. The world can be such a beautiful place when I’m wrong.
We’ve just crossed the Ohio lane Eastbound, listening to Queen, dodging the cast-off clouds of 18-wheelers and gazing across drowning farmland. The weather’s been doing its damndest to derail us and what had started in silver has glowered to grey, overhanging, promising and delivering. For a moment we were treated to thunderstorms stalking last night, but they died away before they could shift from sudden retinal trauma to prolonged violence. Now it’s just rain, and rain, and rain.
Last night we played in Indianapolis. I’m afraid that that town will simply never be a destination for us. It’ll always be a place we’re passing through. We’ve been playing there for 6 years and the only familiar faces are people we’ve drawn up from Columbus, an hour south.
Talking to other musicians I hear similar frustrations. If there’s some magic formula for getting that area interested in ilyAIMY, we still haven’t found it.
On the opposite end of the spectrum … well… perhaps I won’t talk about tonight’s show yet lest I jinx it.