From the instant I stepped into The Open Jar Studio in the blazing heart of Times Square, it felt less like entering a venue and more like crossing a threshold into another frequency entirely. The lights, the hum of anticipation, the whisper of possibility hovering above the crowd—it all hit at once, a wave of energy that wrapped itself around the room with almost supernatural warmth. In an industry that can so often lean cold, competitive, and transactional, this night felt like a rare place where generosity had its own gravity.
The stage became a kind of altar, and one by one the artists stepped into its glow: Dallas Forte radiant with quiet power, Nell Simmons-Bradley’s voice blooming like velvet smoke, Alanna Lynise with her incandescent presence, Lauren Byrd casting spells with a single note, Shanta Fuentes trembling the room with her electric charge, Diane Malloy’s elegance, Shandaria Massey’s soul-soaked delivery, Leroy Thomas commanding with effortless charisma, Deon Robertson’s smooth fire, Chelsey Trullie’s hypnotic calm, Deanna Li’s crystalline emotion, Monique Nikkole’s unmistakable star-power, Nate Hicks’ emotional precision, Jonea Patton’s soaring strength, Leyvonna’s magnetic truth, Tina Nelms’ purity of tone, Rielle Gouse’s rich colors, Ritchea Hodge’s stunning depth, and Tenille Ja’Nae shining like a comet.
Every artist felt singular. Every performance felt like an explosion of its own universe. Gospel melted into R&B, slipped into pop, brushed up against Broadway, then stretched into something entirely new. There were no weak links; every voice, every story, every note carved its mark into the night.
What Steven Byrd of Byrd Dove MGMT and executive producer Norman Cole of NCS Company created was not just a showcase—it was a masterclass in what happens when curation meets soul. The production was seamless, elegant, and alive. The room was packed with luminaries—Ronnie Holman, the playwright and President of Pure Productions; Nina Nelms, powerhouse owner of Nelms Music Planet Records; John Betancourt of BMP; Lori Nebo; DJ Ms. Moyah from Massachusetts radio; Donald Padgett, CEO of VNET Radio; and others who move the industry from behind the curtain.
And then, a hush swept over the space when special guest Marva Queen King—of Diary of a Mad Black Housewife, known for singing with Prince and a constellation of legends—took the floor. Her words about women in the music industry carried an undercurrent of fire, truth, and battle-won wisdom. The room leaned in. You could feel people listening not just with their ears, but with history.
But the most cinematic moment was not a single song or speech—it was the atmosphere of unity. Artists cheering for other artists. No side-eye, no insecurity, no quiet sabotage—just pure, unfiltered support. Every time someone stepped up to the mic, the others became their echoing choir of belief. It felt almost radical in its sincerity.
As the final notes drifted into the night and Times Square glittered outside like a restless galaxy, one truth remained clear: this wasn’t merely a festival. It was a movement—an unapologetic celebration of talent, humanity, kindness, and possibility. It was the reminder that music doesn’t just entertain us… it heals us, unites us, and lifts us higher than we expect to go.
And on this night in New York City, it absolutely did.