Stepping Out of the Comfort Zone

Every now and again I feel the need to take a step away from the dim, smokey bars and blues musicians with their angst and drinking problems and sorrowful lyrics, to take a step toward the lighter side of song and story.
A community dog wash perhaps, or a dance recital.  Or on this most recent evening, a young man with lavender sunglasses and a synthesizer.  He wore billowy clown pants in psychedelic colors, a purple velveteen jacket and a top hat with an oversized plastic daisy on the brim - I had a momentary flashback to the flower children of the 60's - but despite the costume and the fact that he needed a shave, there was something near seductive about him, something charismatic.  Partly youth and energy, partly wide eyed innocence, partly eccentricity but put all together, undeniably charismatic.  I handed over a $5 cover charge without a second thought.

 He spun.
He rapped. 
He pranced.
He jumped.

He twirled a fluorescent hula hoop and handed out homemade musical instruments wrapped like birthday presents.  And midway through, he dropped his clown pants, stepped out of his shoes, and continued on in metallic bronze boxer shorts and slightly dingy socks.

I was startled. 
I was taken.
I was charmed.

His lyrics were about fast food, about saving the planet, about having and using a social conscience, about the rhythm and beat of neighborhoods and community.  Some made sense, others were addictingly repetitive and silly.  All were pretty much irresistible.  The audience listened, cheered, were captivated.  Fingers drummed, toes tapped, heads nodded. 

Later that night, before I began editing photos, I did a little research and learned that he is considered an explorer, that his music is described as experimental and electronic.  I would simply say that it can't be described and must be experienced.

The thing about a comfort zone, I find myself thinking, is that it's not too far from a rut.