Why I didn't congratulate you

I like to think I've got an open mind and at least average hearing. When you walked on the stage to open for one of my favorite bands last night, I was ready to listen. But when I realized that, only 6 feet in front of you, I was only catching about 25% of your lyrics, I started to get annoyed. You're an adult, man. I've heard your name on the circuit. I write songs with meaning, and I suspect that you're trying to do that, too. The percentage went up to 75% by the end of the set, and that fact, plus the occasional interesting image and character, and the fact that you kept to the 25 minutes allotted to you, almost got me back on your side.

Almost, but not quite. There was a roomful of people there who had paid for tickets, and you were asking more energy from them than you were giving them. I know that engineers have been telling you for years they can fix it in the mix, and producers have been telling you that your lyrics can go up on the web. But all you had last night was the moment, and you blew that with me and with my wife. I suspect that you blew it with most of the audience as well, and they, like us, were open to listening to you.

Songs are such tiny artifacts that, in a well-written song, they need and use every word they've got. If you don't show respect each one of those words, how do you expect your audience to do more? Hard to do in a bar where folks have a variety of agendas, I know. But that's not where you were last night.