People are walking back and forth in front of the camera pointed at the open guitar case, set up in front of bookshelves at a Phoenix Barnes and Noble. The video is over a decade old, and he looks younger. We all were younger then.
The song is undeniable, a gift. Maybe not a hit, or maybe, hard saying given the uncertain dust storm of gatekeepers and luck that has always whirled around the music business.
Doesn’t matter, though. The song is golden.
I heard the full-band version through the truck speakers yesterday, a forgotten track that had somehow followed my computers and iPhones over the last 10 years until my phone told my truck ‘play this.’ I guess sometimes these phones really are smart.
I don’t know how many times I hit the repeat button. All the way up to Ketchum from the ranch. I know that much. And all the way back home.
And watching this video now, I see me. I played in front of passers-by and bookshelves in a Phoenix Barnes and Noble the same year, before delivering my heart to 4 people at a bar across town, all of whom worked there. I know the sometimes inspiring, often thankless gig.
But what are you going to do? Not walk hand in hand with an elusive dream, shifting shapes between muse and ghost? Not take a chance, not take a risk? Not raise the bar, not increase your threshold, not lay it all out there?
Not deliver your heart?
If you’re not going to deliver your heart, what are you going to do?