A Night in Barcelona: A Birthday to Remember
It was a few weeks before my birthday in 2024, and the usual ideas of how to celebrate started floating through my mind. A cozy evening with friends and family in a garden sounded lovely. But then I paused and asked myself: When was I the happiest at a celebration? My mind raced back to 2021 in Ukraine, to a night that still feels alive in my heart. I had rented my best friend’s studio and invited what felt like the entire city. The energy, the people, the music—it was magic. A night where everything just clicked. I wanted to feel that magic again.
One day, as if fate was listening, I was invited by a good friend to visit the Guitar Legends Hall in Barcelona. There, I met the museum’s owner, Juanjo. A kind and enthusiastic gentleman, he shared my love for music and live performance. As we talked, an idea began to form. Juanjo extended an unexpected invitation: Why not host a show here? And just like that, the wheels started turning. What better way to celebrate my birthday than by performing on a stage like this?
The plan came together quickly. I gathered a band, teamed up with a few talented local musicians, hired a charismatic hostess, and started sending invitations. We spread the word across the city, building excitement. Sponsors like Blackstar stepped in, adding their weight and resources to the event. Everything seemed set for a night to remember—Barcelona, my first self-made show in the city, and my birthday all wrapped in one.
The night of the show arrived, and the energy in the room was palpable. The sound? Bone-shaking. Blackstar and others ensured that every note thundered through the hall with clarity and power. The crowd? Incredible. People took time out of their lives, their busy schedules, to share this moment with me. That’s what matters most, I reminded myself. This show wasn’t about me; it was about giving the audience a night they would never forget.
But, as in life, not everything went smoothly. Despite daily rehearsals for weeks, a few of the local musicians struggled with some basic parts, and their nerves showed onstage. It was frustrating to witness, especially after all the effort we’d put in. A hired photographer leaked photos of the show to the public and news outlets before we’d even had a chance to review them, a breach of trust that stung deeply. The videographer, who was meant to capture the heart of the performance, seemed to have other ideas—filming everything but the actual concert.
The venue, just ten minutes before showtime, informed us that acoustic instruments and drums were prohibited. We scrambled to go fully electric, routing everything into monitors—a rushed adjustment that didn’t capture the sound we’d envisioned. And then, of course, there was the ego. Someone, who shall remain unnamed, decided to plaster photos of herself across the city as if she were the headline act, despite being just a backing vocalist for the evening.
All these hiccups left me disheartened in the moment. Yet, even amidst the chaos, something beautiful shone through. The audience’s enthusiasm, their energy, and their sheer presence reminded me of why I do this. They didn’t care about electric versus acoustic. They didn’t know about the behind-the-scenes drama or the delayed equipment. They came for the music, for the connection, and for the experience.
As I played, I realized that the show was never about perfection. It was about gratitude. Gratitude for those who showed up. Gratitude for music as a shared language. And gratitude for the chance to give people something memorable, no matter the obstacles.
Looking back now, was I truly happy that night? Not in the way I’d hoped to be. The logistical frustrations and artistic compromises weighed heavy on me. But in a larger sense, yes, it was a good night. A night of lessons. A night that pushed me to grow and recalibrate.
Barcelona taught me a lot. It taught me to adapt when things don’t go as planned. To set clearer boundaries. To surround myself with people who share my vision and my level of commitment. And most importantly, to hold tight to the joy of connecting with an audience.
That night also marked a turning point. I realized that it was time to move forward, to explore new horizons, bigger stages, and greater challenges. The journey as an artist is never linear. Every city has its highs and lows, and this was no exception. But it was a step forward, a night that carved a new chapter in my story.
To those who came that night, to those who stayed till the last note—salut! You are the reason I keep playing.
