Busking

*Editorial Note: While the post to follow does indeed sound rather bitter and rant-like, the reader can be assured that it has been exaggerated for the sake of its literary merit, if it does indeed possess some. Pancho likes playing on the street more than doing many other things. In fact, Pancho loves playing on the street.



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I went out busking again today, this time with Laura, one of the vioinists in sirius.B. As usual, the experience was a lesson in many ways. Just a few of those lessons were:

1. Life is fickle, as is the business of busking.
2. Some people are cheap and uanppreciative, and I must learn to accept that.
3. Some people are incredibly scared of so much around them.

Allow me to expand upon these lessons:

1. Life is fickle, as is the business of busking.

I have been trying to turn this busking thing into a science. Perhaps all that I need is more time, more experience, more information on which to base my conclusions. Nonetheless, I have decided at this point (though my opinion may change) that so much of busking is based on luck. There are, of course, many factors that can make one day lucrative and another day a waste of time (in an economic sense). The time of day is important to consider, as is the day itself. The weather is of course always an issue as well. Location is obviously key as well.

Still, even with all of these issues factored into the equation, it seems to me that some days luck smiles down on buskers, and some days she laughts maliciously. (Speaking of which, check out this article about Hillary's laugh.)

In case you have not guessed, Laura and I did not make much money today. In one and a half hours, we managed to pull in a whopping six dollars.

2. People are cheap and scared

I'll take these together. First, regarding the fear of some people, I am amazed at how suspicious people are of anyone doing anything for money on any street. I chuckle each time an old lady tourist walks by, clutching her purse to her chest, smiling nervously in my direction. It is amazing--I am fairly well dressed and washed. I have all of my teeth, and I am playing music for a few bucks. If I wanted to steal someone's purse, would I make the getaway so difficult?

Can you imagine the theft? I rip the purse off of the fragile arm of the oldish tourist lady. I run back to my guitar case frantically, putting aside the compact discs and random accoutrements littering the inside. I carefully pack up my beautiful guitar, unleash my dog from the nearby tree, grab my open bag of kazoos, harmonica holders, mailing lists and water. And then, I run off, never to be seen again.

Unbelievable.

As for people's cheapness, I will limit myself to a mere few points about people passing street musicians.

1. Many people pretend not to listen and walk by rather quickly. I understand this, as it is often my own personal way of dealing with street performers when I am not in the mood to pay them. This does not bother me. Nor does a quick smile as someone walks by.

2. I'm not sure if it is worse or better to watch people smile, look, listen as they walk by, going so far as to give me a cheesy thumbs up or a sign of approval, and still not pay. Part of me is incredibly annoyed by such behavior, as I think, "Well damn! If you enjoyed the tunes that much, couldn't you show me your appreciation in the form of a buck?"

The less bitter part of me (this part still reigns, dear readers) thinks that I'd rather have someone show appreciation for my music. I'd rather brighten someone's day with a tune than not brighten their day, of course, even if the person whose day I'm brightening is a tightwad.

3. The worst of all: Dear Readers, as a public service announcement, I present the following idea to you: It is not okay to take photographs of street performers without paying a small amount of money. Even if you hide across the street, you are noticed. I see you there, just as I saw the woman the other day for who I composed a song on the spot. The lyrics included such lines as:

Hey lady, I'm not here just for kicks
I'm here for money too
Hey lady, I'm not just some monkey
In your Asheville zoo.

It truly is a strange feeling, as I know that most of the picture takers are thinking in terms of the story they will tell their friends back at home, something like, "Oh, look at this picture! Asheville is so quaint and quirky. There are street performers everywhere, outdoor cafes, galleries...Its really nice."

And I ain't no monkey.

Anyway, as I said above, I'm not really bitter about any of this, though I am on occasion momentarily annoyed with people. In all though, I can imagine few things I'd rather be doing than playing music outside on a fresh October day. And the people that truly do enjoy, that show their appreciation, that stop and talk (and give me money) make it all worthwhile.

Usually.