I spent this weekend in coastal Maine, a small town by the ocean with lighthouses, art galleries and roadside lobster restaurants. I walked into a local clothing store blaring teen bopper music. It wasn’t half bad. The owner of the store, an affable gentleman with a thin mustache and effeminate mannerisms, told me that we were listening to his eight year old daughter sign. Seconds later she appeared, humming to her own song.

She wants to be a star, or her father wants her to be one. Twice a week, the eight year old takes singing listens with one of the best coaches in New York. The coaching session occurs over Skype. Even in this small town in Maine, an eight year old girl is connected to her dream brought to her by voice over ip.

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