When people hear that I am a musician, the look they give me is that of “bro, where is your Chrysler?” Top musicians afford to live the flashy life displayed on television and magazine, but struggling musicians also have a life. It is called the life of brokenness. People expect all musicians to be at least in the same class, but life has a way of panning out things differently. Today I give the world what it takes to be a struggling musician, who suffers from an ailment called brokenness.
Anyone who has ever been broke knows exactly how frustrating it is to be in that state. I have the desire to perform music but finances bring me down. The daily meals of a broke musician are at the mercies of what they earn for the day. This can be reduced to one meal a day. It’s frustrating to see musicians who you seem better than them making it big in the industry while you are stuck right at the bottom.
Knocking on doors
Being broke does not equate to being lazy. As a broke musician, I still have to try knocking on the doors of opportunities. I make cheap fliers and distribute them at street corners just to inform fans where my next performance will be and what I do.
Of course, my charges are way lower than what most musicians charge since most people may not know me. Knocking on door means that every day I look for places where auditions have been announced and try to see if I can make it. I walk from studio to studio trying to see if someone can give me a deal.
Try to make money
As a broke musician, you will find me on street corners and subways making music to passersby, who seem not to be interested in what I do. I put this in my schedule to do it every day and evening, and I see it as an opportunity to make something out of my passion. I pick my guitar and take my place. I strum as I sing; I am the lead and the instrumentalist at the same time.
The most important thing is that I follow my passion and get something out of it. The daily life of a broke musician can be summarized into three phrases; knocking on doors, frustrations, and making money that is never enough. Even at the age of 26, I keep going with hope that one day I will put this condition behind me and drive away in my Chrysler. I bear frustration and a heavy heart right now, but I find hope in what I am passionate about now.