Musician’s village
You could throw a rock and hit a musician in this town, and I guess that is what makes it great to play music in this city and not (it’s hard to get paid when there are so many of you). I’ve seen no other profession struggle to make a living more than a musician except if you compare them to a grade school teacher. Lofty work but low down pay. I was looking around for a singer to sing a song for my mom because I want to honor her with beauty to represent the beauty she was and was given a ton of recommendations by musicians I know – “he sang at so and so’s funeral and it was transformational, she has a voice that is heavenly, he is the one, a top musician,” and in the end was given more names than I need. An embarrassment of riches.
Tonight, with the three quarter moon growing brighter and brighter in the dark grey sky, one of these singers sang me an old negro spiritual on the telephone that brought tears to my eyes – it was Sam Cooke’s version of Any Day Now:
One of these mornings
I’m a-going away
Any day now
I’m going to heaven to stay
I don’t know how soon
maybe morning, night or noon
but I’m going to see the father
and by his side to stand
there’ll be no sorrow no sadness
just only complete gladness
but any day
I know that I am going home
that I’ll shout hallelujah
and give praises to his name
but any day
I know that I am going home