Were it only a few years before there would had been no club or spotlight to speak of. The past had nothing remotely musical to offer. Nobody ever said it but really that is why her music was something special. Singing her perseverance, dancing her strength, and projecting her victories by mouthing words of cheap love to a melody. "Rich lungs," her manager says while putting out a cigarette, "she was born with them."
Jazzy rhythms pulse through the crowded club. A glass breaks followed by sarcastic applause of a over-dressed man with a thin mustache at the end of the dim bar. "I hope that was his drink," says the singer, "because that is my applause." He receives the remark sardonically bowing and giving her his half-witted attention.
Swelling and stopping her voice holds captive the moment in time. Beads from her dress tapping at the microphone stand while she masterfully shifts back and forth to the rhythm. Were it simply music the crowd could casually live in yet another night but this night is no longer their own.
