Anyone seen August Rush?

I think the most surprising aspect of the city is the way it sounds. Outside of our hotel room a chorus of car horns, revving engines, and voices rises up from the street. I have never heard so much music in my life. Walking down the streets in Brooklyn was like walking right through a Putumayo compilation. The countless ballads of Brooklyn oozed from open apartment windows and passing cars.

Early Sunday morning I stepped off of the subway and right past a Baptist church, which was really just a small room in-between the corner deli and a Chinese take out restaurant. The power of the music flowing out of the open door into the street vibrating the walls and nearly knocked you back a few steps. The organ was a wall of sound, and the only way to describe the vocalist voice was deeply deeply soulful.

Heading back toward the city, I began to notice a lot of people carrying instrument bags. Some I recognized - guitars, a stand-up bass, a banjo, violin. Still others were more intriguing built into shapes I had never seen before. While waiting for my first subway to emerge from the tunnel I stood and listened to a Chinese man playing an instrument I had never seen before. It was played like a cello, but was skinny and had a huge resonator at the bottom. I have no idea what it is called, but it sounded like the soundtrack to every movie you have ever seen that takes place in an Asian country.

Across the tracks on another train, I caught a crowd gathered around a man feverishly drumming on a set of ten-gallon buckets. The intensity and intricacy of his drumming reminded me of Justin. The crowd was really into it, and so was I for that matter, but the 6 train came and cut me off from the spectacle. I could still hear his steady heartbeat over the roar of tracks.

In the park where August Rush played, street performers had set up all over the place. The first act I caught was a six-piece reggae ensemble. It was a strange combination of reggae, rock, rap, ska, and had a violin player. It was - alright. Later in the same spot I would catch these guys:

As I headed out and back to Brooklyn for one last time that night the diversity of the city really struck me for the first time. Sitting there on the subway, I saw more different types of people in one spot than I had seen in a long time. My train was a, at the risk of sounding cliche, melting pot of races, sexualities, economic status, nationalities, ages and cultures. The sounds of the train hissing through the tunnel and the steady clacking of the tracks were joined by the myriad of languages being spoken on that particular car. I closed my eyes and let the sound of it all wash over me.