On Stage

I don't patronize bars, but my last job required I attend lots of conferences, and since everyone gravitated to the hotel bar to socialize, so did I. One evening the live music was provided by a young, clean-cut man who sang and played keyboards. He wasn't a prodigy. He wasn't going to be the next Elton John. He was a local boy who got a gig in a local hotel bar. But he was competent and enthusiastic and I loved his choice of songs. I told an employee sitting next to me how much I enjoyed the music.

"He's sometimes off key," she said. "And his range is limited. His voice is low-weight. It lacks distinctive timbre. Without timbre he'll go nowhere." She flicked her hand at him dismissively.

Turns out she had once worked as a background vocalist for a recording label. There were hundreds of women vying for her job, she told me. She left because the rewards didn't justify the effort. Her dream was to be a famous singer, not a background flunky. Now she worked for me, answering phones, greeting visitors, filing forms.

"He's not vocalizing," she complained. "He doesn't project from the chest. He just sits there and sings."

That he did. He sat there, he sang. I couldn't help noticing he was on stage, not she.