It Takes Time

When I was 20, I sent a video of me singing to a boy whom I liked. He said: "Why don’t you just play the guitar? It would sound better.” "My mother always told me that I had “no voice" to sing. At that time, I had uploaded one of my first Youtube videos, and I received a lot of criticism. "You're extremely out of tune." And so on. I undertook an audition for a conservatory. Actually, I did not. I got frozen in the first verse. When I arrived in Montreal, I participated in many open mics. I used to come out crying. Telling myself I would never-ever-sing-live-again. Okay, I'm good at drama. It used to last no more than a few hours. But it was hard hours.

One of the first songs that I performed in of those open mics here, if not the first one, was the "House of the Rising Sun" by "The Animals". And it was awful. Terrible. I ended up giving it up. 6 months after, when I finally started structuring my repertoire, I decided to give it one more chance. It was one of my biggest challenges. Until very little time before to start playing it live, I wondered if I could handle this song. I risked it. Today, it's one of my best songs. I mean, people always stop when I am playing it. And give me money and compliments. it's one of the rescue moments for me. Not only for overcoming it, but it is one of that moment that I know that people are not giving me tips for pity.

When I started with the tambourine on my foot, I could not hold the rhythm. I remember one of the times that I played "Poison Heart" in the subway, a guy passed by and started to do the rhythm with the hands, "teaching me", correcting me. Wow, what a shame I felt. On this last Saturday, I was playing Poison Heart on the street, with the tambourine on my foot, as always. A guy passed by, took a drumstick from his backpack and started to accompany me, and also said: “Amazing rhythm!”. I got very happy.

One of my times playing at Saint-Denni, a very bohemian street, behind me a lady sat down. And she stayed there for a long time. In the end, she gave me 20 dollars and said: Your voice is stunning!

I don’t know if you can understand, but it's difficult, difficult to judge ourselves. It's hard to hear ourselves. With accuracy. When someone tells me: you're good. I believe in myself. I don’t know exactly if it should be like this. But it is.

Playing on the street is tough. Too much. I never know where I can play. If I’ll be allowed to play in a certain spot, The place might be already occupied by another musician. Someone might complain about me. I never know if I will be able to make enough money. And today, I sustain myself doing it. It's difficult. It brings out an unbelievable level of anxiety. In these last days, I got very down because of it all. I also played in a bar last week and I was not paid neither received assistance or whatever. The other day a policeman stopped me on the street trying to give me a fine. I had to quickly argue and so he considered in doublechecking if I was wrong at all. And I was not. It was my right to play there. The other day, an addicted argued with me, wanting to kick me out. Yesterday, another addicted started breaking a store’s door in front of me. It is chaotic most of the time. And it is always alarming. Always difficult.

And there are a lot of criticisms too. "Very sad songs you play!". "If you are Brazilian, why are not you singing in Portuguese?", "Why covers? A real musician plays originals. " "Why do not you sing in French?" "Why do not you speak French?!"

Some days are barely bearable.

But there is the old lady sitting behind me with all the serenity of the world listening to my music. The guy with the drumstick accompanying my tambourine. The child dancing with the mother in front of me. There is the magic going on in the middle of the chaos. That feeling that I am something to that place. And that I am capable of doing it. Capable to sing, to play; to make music.

Every kind of job has its negative side. Every skill will take a long time to be developed. Those are rules of life. Either we accept it or we give it up.

Before leaving home, I close my eyes, almost praying. And so, I go.