We all dream of basking in the limelight, getting that spotlight tan as the audience hangs on our every word, every note, every riff. We dream of flowers and love and fame and immortality. We take a bow -- and then we wake up. It's easy to love your music when the payoff matches the input, but when you're busting your hump busking for tips on a tiny stage at a barbeque joint on a Tuesday evening, your love gets put to the test.

Singer/songwriter Teagan Ward is a coffee house chanteuse with rock 'n' roll overtones. She sings in a powerful alto and picks in a style that appears simple until you try it. Personally, I don't think I have enough fingers.

And there she was, living the reality at Beale Street Café Tuesday night, playing her heart out for folks who will eventually have to shell out a few clams to see her in a more posh setting. For me, we were the only two in the room as she covered John Prine's "Angel From Montgomery," mixing it in with her own songs of stinging wit and observation. She sounded amazing. Perhaps this is the dream afterall.