Passion or fame?

Stepping into the recording studio, Austin shook his head in confusion. There was something not right about the recording he was planning to do.

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He had been feeling this way for two weeks now and his producer was getting irked about his inability to successfully make a recording. Austin understood quite well what his problem was, it was a war within himself, a battle between his passion, and wish for fame.

His passion burned hot for old blues from the 90s, yet he wanted to be famous, to become a well-known musical artist before his 30s. Music was dynamic, and so was people's taste in music. As the people's tastes evolved, so did the music.

Austin was well known locally, moving quickly up the ranks to be known nationally as well but he wasn't satisfied with that. What he wanted was to be known worldwide, and by all works of life using his love for classical blues, therein lay his most outstanding bulwark yet in achieving his goal, people's taste music wise had evolved with the times.

The era of jazz was long gone, no one cared about blues anymore, disco was dead, pop, afro-pop, and hip-hop were all the rage of the current times, and music was like a tide that flowed ever forward. Earning with music could not be any easier these days. You only had to enter a studio, place an Afrobeat on the track, hit record, and sing to your heart's content and your music would sell like hot cake, no one cared about the lyrics, the beat was all that mattered.

"Haven't you moped about enough? I've been unusually patient with you through this phase of yours. But it's about time it ended..."

"I know Jake, I just need to..."

"Don't interrupt me Austin! Two weeks, no tracks, not even a new single! And you want to be known? To be famous? Who are you kidding?!".

Jake was furious, he hated being interrupted mid-sentence. He initially planned to have an easy conversation with Austin, but he didn't expect to get interrupted mid-sentence making him burst out with such unrelenting fury. He really didn't mean to come off harshly like that, he could see clearly from Austin's balled fist and clenched jaws that he had said more than he should have.

"Look man, you know I've got your best interest at heart, yeah? I just can't stand to see you wasting away your potential. It has been two weeks man, I know you, we could have whipped up something good for sure, you can't falter now, c'mon man".

Jake tried to implore him again, subtly trying to get him to let go of his hesitations and go mainstream, perhaps when he became world-famous, he could follow his passion, time was money after all.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll see you tomorrow"

Austin was unusually subdued as he walked away, banging the door on his way out, clearly, he was pissed. Understandably so, after all, he just got told in fancy words to bury his passion and follow the masses.

Maybe it was because his father, though not an artist, introduced him early to the classical blues of the 90s which served as the equilibrating force, hooking him to the art. It was calming, inspirational, energy-lifting, and enlightening even.

Classical blues had ignited within him a burning passion for music, and as he exited the studio and made his way to the parking lot, he couldn't help but acknowledge once again that times had changed, and music had changed with it.

Record a hit track that gripped the fickle hearts of the masses and released it to them, and you could sit back and rake in funds passively without needing to do much else. Honestly, it was a steal, even if no one would admit it.

Austin opened his Audi A4, and leaned on the backrest, like clockwork, his fingers fiddled with the radio and turned it on, a random afro song streamed from the car's speakers, it was so similar and undifferentiable from any other out there.

"Ugh, could this get any worse?". He murmured to himself as he put the keys into the ignition and rode out of the parking lot, slowly he made his way to the gate and out of the studio vicinity, he didn't exactly have a direction in mind, he simply wanted to clear his head and get away from the absurdity of the life he had found himself enmeshed in.

If only he was born when music was music like his father made him know then he wouldn't be having to struggle with choosing between passion and fame. He would just do the music he loved instead of trying to join the trends...and it would bring him both.