More longer friend see that sky?

He was in quite a predicament.

By all accounts, he was the most successful musician in the world. Album sales were through the roofs, concerts somehow sold out even before the tickets were released, and scarcely a month went by without him on the covers of this or that celebrity gossip rag. By all reasonable standards of measure, he was the thing.

Problem was. He had no idea how to play the instruments he was ostensibly performing. Worse, all attempts to learn were actively discouraged by means of busy scheduling and public imagery. He could not be seen (or worse, heard) practicing at his actual skill levels, and he was at all times surrounded by people whose approval his career needed. The one time he actually found time to practice, he was walked in on by accident, and had to do some fast talking (and startled autograph signage) in order to cover up the whole ordeal. At no point did he actually have an opportunity to learn the things he was supposed to know.

Every month, he received more awards and more notoriety, and every month, he became more and more disconcerted by the whole thing. He contemplated just telling everyone, honesty being a virtue, but his manager had an uncanny knack of reminding him of the positive impact he had on youngsters everywhere. There even was a special pile of letters, from people contemplating suicide but changing their mind after listening to this or that song. It had accumulated to quite a pile.

A predicament it was indeed.