Jon Curtis_

A LITTLE OVER TWO YEARS AGO I STEPPED OFF A PLANE AT LONDON HEATHROW AIRPORT WITH ALL MY BELONGINGS IN THE WORLD. A few clothes and treasured items, and a five-track demo CD finished at the last moment, tainted by the producer’s prejudices. I had no idea where I would live or how I would keep body and soul together. Looking beyond the next few days in a hostel was like looking into dense fog for miles and miles. I simply had no idea. To have gotten here was enough.

If I could not keep in mind that I now lived in the greatest city in the world, coming from playing stadium gigs to 50,000 people with some of the greatest international acts, to chasing after an open mic in front of ten unknown people in a smoky bar in Farringdon would surely be demoralizing, to say the least.

And so it went. London is huge. Not the concrete jungle of New York or even Paris for that matter, but one mammoth village, roughly the size of Trinidad, the country of my birth, and my former demi-god status. The one-man industry – artist/manager/roadie/fan club/critic – took these five little songs to the people. Most small gigs in London are not paid; the promoter takes no losses. Your take depends on who comes to see you. Since I knew exactly nobody in the city, most times there was no money to be had. For a year I never looked above the bottom shelf in the supermarket, where the food consists of 80 per cent cardboard. “Sainsbury’s Basic” is a phrase that will stay with me to my grave.

I had to write some new songs quickly, as I developed serious antipathy towards the original five, not to mention being a front man for so long deprived me of anything but a basic instrumental skill. I had to write something I could also play. There was no shortage of material, thanks to my displacement and other new dilemmas.

I found a friendly hole in Chelsea – that home of royalty and stars - a world away from the dirty East End streets of my Squatters-ville size flat. Here was a regular crowd of bohemians who easily accepted me into their close community. The Bosun’s gave an easy testing ground for new material. We all (the artists) became quite close and boldly supported each other through the most atrocious of performances, even if secret and not so secret jealousies existed. The insecurity of artists is understood and accepted by other artists. We also had an appreciative audience, about half of whom were extremely attentive and the other half who never listened to a note but applauded heartily anyway after every song. All good, take it in stride. We have most of us moved on now, though I have Myspace contact with most of the other artists and do check up on them from time to time.

As much as my sheltered, Caribbean upbringing allowed, and them some more, I strived to take advantage of every avenue of possible advancement in this fast paced environment.  However, for an outsider who cannot take advantage of all the facilities available to EU citizens, barriers are thrown up like landmines in a video game. For the strong and persistent though, these barriers are or become signposts on the road to success; keeping you on the straight and narrow and building strength and resolve. I’ve no doubt that hard work, persistence and talent has the overwhelmingly best chance of success right here in London, the capital of the world.

People come and people go, and say a lot of things in between. A lot of them have good intentions and a lot of them never call back. A very few do, however. Finally obtaining my busker’s licence gave me a shot at buying a bottle of wine every now and then. It allowed me to stand and be ignored by thousands of people every day, be the target of abuse ever so often. But it also gave me a chance to make a decent living with support from the vast minority of passers-by in the London Underground. I play for coins and pretty smiles. For the warmth of human acknowledgment. For the soul-to-soul recognition of common struggle. For the knowledge that I am, I exist and I make a difference. It’s daunting and it’s exhilarating.

In the tunnels, people come and people go, and say a lot in between. I have been approached by big names and small names. I’m still waiting on some of them. Most of them will never call. A lot of them have good intentions but they become busy and cannot fulfil the hopes that they have raised. Some of them have allowed the iron to cool, and have become too accustomed to the once new and exciting prospects, and now doubt their own judgement.

Some of them are made impotent by the corporate machine. Some of them allude to things they have no power to accomplish in the first place. Some of them decide that I’m not their cup of tea, on second thought. No matter. I must work harder.

Myspace is one of the greatest phenomenons of this age. Through it, my visibility has increased beyond measure. I decided to work with one of the small but growing Independent record labels that approached me through Myspace. Humble though this offering may be, it is a solid foundation. Tangible evidence of progress. An incremental level in the video game.

I am indeed in the land of opportunity. I still have debts, and I cannot go out for dinner, but it makes my head spin, the candy store of possibilities that surround me right now. It’s almost too much. Which shall I choose, before closing time!

You need a road map to navigate the aisles. Amazingly, that is also available. The people who have gone before have written books for everything. It remains only for the ambitious to pick up his cup, and drink.

And I am, and I will. And maybe I can leave something valuable too, when I become one of the people who have gone before. A tad bit slower than I would like, but nothing can stop this tidal wave. I’m on my way to becoming one of the great singer/songwriters of my time.