Climate Change

The other day a friend emailed me a copy of an article written about the musical with Clay Aiken as the centerpiece that’s now playing off-Broadway, and asked what I thought about it all.

So, seeing as she actually wanted my opinion, I did what I always do when someone expects me to exercise a part of me that doesn’t see much activity: I stared out the window for awhile.

I watched the heat waves shimmering off the hood of a car that had just parked across the street, and wondered why it was so hot. You see, where I live it does not get particularly warm at all. Nor very cold. We live in a moderate climate, the mountains to the back of us protecting us from the harsh winds of winter in Canada and trapping the warm breezes off the Pacific in summer. If you happen to be Canadian, as I am, this is the perfect place to reside. Near idyllic temperatures year round. Never too hot. Never too cold. Pretty much perfect, if you don’t mind that it never stops raining. Except for the past few years. It’s been cold when it should have been warm. It’s been dry when it should have rained. It is now hot in a way I don’t remember it ever being before.

So I stared out the window and listened to the silence brought on by the heat - people were laying low, as was I - and thought of this strange weather we’ve been experiencing, and how the rest of North America seemed to be affected as well in various ways. I wiped the perspiration off my brow, and pulled a sticking blouse away from my chest and went to get my 20th glass of water so far today out of the fridge. I stood with the fridge door open allowing the coolness to wash over me and thought how the climate is changing.

The world is changing. Nothing seems to be the way I have learned to expect. Something is stirring.

The musical is but a small blip on the weather map.

When, in the past, would someone have expected to make money out of a show about a singer who isn’t on top of the game? I admit I know little of New York and what sort of shows are successful there. But I imagine that a producer many have only two choices. Either come up with something using an internationally known star or perhaps a best selling novel as a premise, or come up with a unique slant. A musical using Clay Aiken as the unique slant? How could it work?

He’s not an internationally known star. He hasn’t sold millions upon millions of CDs and played to sold out audiences across the world. He doesn’t even always fill every concert hall in his home country when he goes on tour. His own label had so little faith that they made sure he didn’t win American Idol when all indications were that he should have. They don’t know what to do with him to this day. According to them he should be back home in Raleigh teaching school, having had his 15 minutes.

Yet he’s still out there, and somebody has put together a musical with him as the draw. And what is really strange - the media is giving it - and by extension, Mr. Aiken - their full attention. A virtual flood of it.

Someone questioned Clay Aiken’s sexuality and the blizzards raged for months.

Clay Aiken falls asleep on a plane and it hits the media like a tornado.

Clay Aiken loses his passport and it hits the media like a thunderstorm.

Clay Aiken does a spot on American Idol - what was it? 3 minutes? 2 &1/2? 4? And completely overshadows a mega star like Prince. He wasn’t even introduced. He just walked on stage and the winds blew for a week.

Clay Aiken hasn’t even had a mega hit record yet. On the weather map plotted by Clive Davis to guide his money making stars through the eddy currents of public desire, Aiken’s route probably isn’t even considered. Yet all Clay has to do is stick his head out his window in the morning, and the weather inexplicably changes.

Four years ago only a handful of boards lauded the talents of a certain Mr. Aiken. The media actively ignored him.

Yes, the climate is changing, I thought as I poured the cool, satisfying water into a glass and drank it.