On the Anniversary of My Coming to America

This Blog in Croatian.

TWO Continents, TWO Careers, ONE Me on My ONE Life’s Journey

It was one of those foggy Zagreb days in early winter and my Dad was driving me to a meeting. I was quiet and worried. I had already announced to my producer, my manager and the entire “Tajci” team that I was leaving Croatia.  It didn’t go well. I was afraid that, as the result of my decision, I would never be allowed to sing in my homeland.

The heaviness in my heart was seeping into the air when my Dad finally broke the silence.

“It’s nonsense. No one can take the music from you. No one has the power to stop you from singing. If that’s what you really want to do, you will always find a way,” he said. He slowed the car down and parked. I got out without responding.

My status as a superstar had already taken away “our” songs – I wasn’t able to join my Dad’s band at his gigs to sing with him as I had done for years. I felt the sting of irony my fame had brought to me: instead of freedom, resources and abundance of creativity, I seemed to had only gained limitations, isolation and fear.  My Dad’s words were the confirmation I needed in order to follow through with my plan and leave.

A few weeks after that drive, on January 5^th I was sitting at the airport in Zurich waiting for my flight to New York City and feeling a bit confused by the absence of fear.

On January 12^th, I sang through my audition at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy confident that I had nothing to loose – the music would be there even if I wouldn’t be admitted.

At my first New York job as a coat check girl at an upscale restaurant next to the Lincoln Center I kept my jazz charts in the wardrobe hidden behind the coats.  I waited for opportunity to approach the trio and let them know that I was a singer and that I ‘happened’ to have my charts with me. They let me sit in and soon I became the restaurant’s best kept secret.

I produced plays and musicals when I didn’t get the parts I auditioned for. Nothing could stop me from singing. Yes, there were times when I wanted the jobs I auditioned for and didn’t get, producers that were way out of my budgets, and those I turned down because I didn’t like their motivations.

When I visited Croatia, I sang with my Dad but kept a low-profile, trying to stay away from the media. I had walked away from my status as a superstar and had no intention of going back to claim it. At times I felt like Simba singing my Hakuna Matata song – hiding behind my “new identity.”

In the USA, I was able to wander free, to grow and learn, to succeed and fail without the pressure of critics’ reviews. There was no competition to win, charts to climb, market to please. I was making a living with my music, and as an artist I found the deepest reward in a chance to write a song of hope for a school in danger of being closed down; in writing one for my friend who believed in healing till the last moment of her life; and in knowing that my music helped many to experience Hope, Peace and Love, perhaps even make a step closer to God.

It seemed to me that I would forever stay the girl who had two identities: the Croatian one in the orange dress and a big smile on her face and the one in the long silver coat who can move a human heart to tears.  The two would never cross paths again.

When my Dad passed away, I became aware of how silly I had been to have allowed all these labels to define me.  For many years I was content to let my status of a ‘pop icon’ rest in peace in order not to disturb the memory.  But what good is a memory if it prevents us from living in the present? What good is status if it prevents me from singing in Croatia and be the same artist, unafraid, authentic and honest as I am in America?

So, last year, in honor of my twenty-years of journeying I set out across the Ocean and 1.) sang my own songs in a Kareoke bar in Zagreb; 2.) crashed a few weddings and sang for the brides (who all gushed I was their favorite singer in the whole world when they were 4 years old!); 3.) threw an impromptu performance with a band in a tiny bar on the Croatian coast; and 4.) sang at the Christmas Gala Concert in Croatia – the first major performance since I left. Each time, I was sincerely and thoroughly happy. Each time, the crowd was as confused as they were entertained. Each time there were screams and tears of those who claimed I had made their dreams come true (and it didn’t take a million dollars.)

I also got to work with Bryan Lenox and Chris Gero of Yamaha Entertainment Group who produced one of my favorite hits “Dvije zvijezdice” (a song that was once almost taken away from me), which only assured me that everything is possible (even with a few roadblocks on the way.)

“No one can take the music from you. No one has the power to stop you from singing. If that’s what you really want to do, you will always find a way,”

Still, the best confirmation of my Dad’s words are 875+ amazing concerts my husband Matthew had produced in the past 12 years, without a backer, music label, a corporate sponsor, or a steep performing fee; and the most recent, and most unusual Christmas gift he had for me – a KickStart project initiated with an invitation: “If Tajci has gifted you with her music, would you like to ‘gift’ her with music”. I have already received over 120% of the ‘wished’ goal – of the funds available to me to record whichever songs I choose to record – freely, authentically, without fear and just because they might reach someone out there and provide a bit of Hope, Peace and Love.

It took me a long time to finally have confidence that ONE me and my ONE life’s journey is enough to bring the TWO careers on TWO continents together without labels, limitations or fear.