Mary Cutrefello

I'm sitting in my favorite neighborhood pub tonight with friends and my boss, who looks up and announces as a somewhat striking figure walks by, "That was Mary Cutrufello." I'm slow. I give Hallmark a puzzled look. He elaborates, "The woman from the liner notes on Millican. She's awesome."

We go upstairs to take in her show at Rudyards. She's relegated to opening act. Hallmark's wrong. He undersold her. She's not just awesome. She's f@cking awesome. I can see why she would take a liking to RK. They are kindred spirits -- passionate about their craft. She plays an amazing show. Fills the stage with dreadlocks, defiant figure, guitar, and soulful voice. I'm thinking, "Why do most clowns need a band?"

We approached her before her opening set to get her autograph on our Millican liner notes. She looked a little scared. She said, "I've never signed that before" or something along those lines. I felt a little bad that I didn't know her well enough to have something of hers to sign. I was glad that I live close enough to Rudz to run home and get my Millican liner anyway.

I feel even worse after Mary's opening act. She shouldn't be opening for anyone. Too good for that. Great lyrics. Penetrating voice. Talented guitarist. Soul. Passion. The woman has incredibly bright eyes. Her perceptive eyes didn't seem to notice the b!tch at the table beside us who talked loudly through Mary's best goddamn song. My ears did. Our table gave a standing ovation. An attempt at justice. Screw the rude b!tch at the other table.

Lesson: look for and respect passionate artists wherever you (and they) may be. You'll be surprised at the talent that could be right there at your local bar.

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