Finally got myself in to see twin soul Sarah Jones after church yesterday. Man, it was warm and bright and lovely, just like a Sunday afternoon should be. And, just as I was hoping, folk were out and about in droves. Soon as I got off the train I was greeted by the tempting smells of outdoor frying & the sounds of custom reggae mixtapes, resplendent in steel drums and that unmistakable island pulse, which would be met just moments later with a disgruntled Midwestern "Could you please turn that down!" as we all wafted through the cordoned off corridor of pre-summer commerce, but I didn't care. I was head to ankle in my deep royal purple polished cotton 116th Street African finest and was feeling far too pleased to let some tourist bring me down.
As for Sarah Jones: believe the hype. I enjoyed a highly entertaining evening from a truly gifted and visionary woman. While enjoying the hot hip hop pre-show music I had the gentle realization that even as I love and grow my unique and beautiful business -- my day job :) -- I never want to be too far from The Theater. I never want to be too far from the girl who used to sing/perform Lou Rawls "Me and My Shadow" for my mom in the living room with my big sister (with whom I would be "competing" for applause), much less the woman whose own solo performances left formidable heat behind whenever she left the stage just three, four years ago right here on the same delighful isle of Manhattan.
I guess it doesn't take Freud to see why I have been dragging my feet to see the internationally acclaimed Obie winner Sarah Jones till now. But now having seen her, especially right after worship service and the powerful word from a 26 year old guest preaching phenom out of New Jersey whose sermon was all about how God sometimes uses our private frustration to catylize us into miraculous public progress and peace, I realize that there is room for all of us multitalented visonary artists. Not unlike jello (or in my case Junior's pre-show carrot cake cheesecake), there is always room for excellence, skill and vision in the theater. There is always room for that unique voice that intrigues and entertains, doing both with skill and joy.
And, as soon as I get back to Brooklyn and find my musician again, there's room for me.
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