Jingle
Jingle for me is a downtown Chicago recording studio. There’s C-, he’s teaching us how to make a living as musicians. It’s his cause this year. We are his cause this year. He’s made a fortune with his advertising jingles and now the world is his playground and he’s a very talented boy, preparing our orchestra for world famous conductors and trying his hand at serious modern music composition, like his ex, composer in residence at the Symphony.
Fifteen years later, I now see that he wanted some of this glitter to rub off on us. He strung us with tinsel as we sat and played, wrote me a sparkling letter of recommendation. The trouble was that there were hundreds of us, thousands by now – each trying to make our way, hang in there with gigs and lessons, no health insurance, toothaches, few material possessions and fair weather friends.
Today I’m reliving this situation on a smaller scale. I know what to do, how to make a living and how to let others have my back, but I’ve been away so long. I’m not sure if I am really up for repeating scenarios, repeating emotions like a record on a record player now so relegated to the past – or coming back into style?
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