Where there’s smoke there’s fire

It started to pour about halfway through dinner last night. This would not have been noteworthy save for the fact that my friend and I were dining in the middle of Union Square.

But as luck would have it a table with an umbrella was a few feet away. We relocated, ordered dessert and another round, and waited out the downpour.

When the rain cleared the air took on a hazy quality.

“See that?” I asked my companion.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never seen that after a storm.”

“It’s strange.”

A few minutes later we heard the screech of fire engines. Then we smelled smoke. We realized it was coming from directly behind the restaurant on the north side of the square.

Not so hazy after all.

We paid the bill and left before finding out what exactly was going up in smoke. But the whole idea of having to put out a fire made me think about our dinner conversation.

The friend I was dining with is a rock ‘n roller and a record producer. He has made records, been on TV, played everywhere, and dealt extensively with the music industry and its many faces.

“Business is down,” he said over calamari, “Business is down.”

Things certainly are on a downswing in music land. Consumers’ ability to download tunes for free is dealing an axe-like blow to all those whose livelihoods depend on record sales.

And, as with our post dinner surprise, where there’s smoke there’s fire. The industry needs to call in a brigade ASAP.

But how?

Drumroll, please.

What if the sole way to buy tickets for a live show was by using a numerical code only to be found on the inside of the artist's record?

This would take maneuvering. This would require serious math on seats, consumers, and concerts. But so what? We live in an age of algorithms.

When there's a surprise rain shower you can either choose to wait it out under cover or get wet and change.

We got soaked on the walk home.