EVERYTHING’S COMING UP ROSE’S
I was approached last night by a mother who introduced herself with this bit of sparkling rhetorical conviction:
“Do you know what you need? A singer. A beautiful, blonde girl who can sing.”
The daughter in question wasn’t there. But I was informed that she was studying opera, and as a soprano, could sing anything. I would only have to tell her what, and when to sing.
She continued to interrupt the set several more times, only to mention that the song I had just played would be perfect for her child who was going away to college next year to study voice. And also, to ask when it would be a good night for us to start performing together regularly.
On my break, bladder bursting, dying to take a literal and figurative piss, I was cornered with a Facebook video post, played full volume on a iPad, of the girl singing a very forgettable showtune.
And the very final persuasive argument that since the regular accompanist had played at Carnegie Hall countless times, this should be a much easier gig.
It made me think.
If everything is going to come up roses, I sure hope how I pray and what I pray for doesn’t come off sounding like that.