Sunday, August 14, 2005
Memoirs of a Busker - Episode 2
The First Day – Part 2
I headed down towards Orchard Rd with zero income but increased resolve, knowing that surely no one would hassle me at the Wheelock Place underpass. Afterall there were a few buskers there from time to time. I’d just wait till there’s no one then I’ll start doing my thing.
As I walked towards my location I passed by several buskers. There was the usual blind fellow near the MRT station playing the keyboards this time, an old fellow playing er-hu near Wisma and some weird mime artist whose act consisted of staying stationary in some white feather outfit next to a plastic skeleton cradling a baby. Didn’t read his sign too closely but it seemed to be something about world peace. Oh well, to each his own.
Seeing these guys a thought entered my mind; “Am I depriving these guys of a living? Me, a lucky chap from a middle-income family studying in NUS competing with these guys for loose change?” Apart from that weirdo with the skeleton I suddenly felt a tinge of guilt. I then decided that I would share some of whatever fortune I amassed that day with the rest of the buskers. After all, I was in this just for the kicks. Yeah man, just for the kicks.
As luck would have it my intended spot was vacant. Not wasting any time I sat down on the floor and started playing my usual slide stuff. Upon playing my first few notes the acoustic quality of the place struck me. All of a sudden my guitar sounded so much livelier in this relatively large but enclosed area. Human traffic was minimal so it didn’t affect the sound much. Inspired by the circumstances, I dived into my first tune with gusto.
Response was non-existent at first. A whole lot of Orchard Roadies passed me by without so much as a glance to see where the noise was coming from. Some of them were jabbering on their handphones so I lowered my volume when they passed by to avoid being a nuisance. The first 10 minutes or so saw my guitar case being as empty as it was at the beginning till a nice old lady probably took pity on this guy playing an old beat-up guitar as though his life depended on it. She dropped a 50 cent coin and in between licks I looked up and thanked her. Apparently she didn’t think much of it and thus didn’t respond. Well she’d been gracious enough to spare that coin anyway and I was grateful enough, thrilled at my first income for the day.
The next few minutes that followed just happened in a flurry. All of a sudden a $2 note appeared courtesy of an angmor mother with her kids, and a few more of those followed, with some coins in between. I didn’t really do a demographic survey but most of them seemed to be expats, tourists or nice old ladies. And exactly one Jap-looking chick. I thought to myself “Man, this is starting to look real good!” Plus, lots and lots of eye candy were walking through the tunnel and while my hands were busy making the music, my eyes were busy making merry. “Yeah this is the life man…I’m having fun playing guitar, spreading my music, get to see lots of chicks, and getting money for it. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” No one stopped to listen or anything like that but I still enjoyed myself.
It was in this process that I discovered the use of the hat. I felt obliged to look back at everyone who looked at me and somehow the hat afforded me some degree of comfort in that respect. While of course I would have liked to establish eye contact with everyone who took an interest in what I was doing, it still felt awkward just sitting there and looking at people. It is only now after I sat down to write this that I realised I shouldn’t have worn the hat because I feel it somehow reduces the audience connection with the performer. Or something like that. Plus, I could be missing out on some real fine chicks. Sure, taking away the hat reduces the cool factor somewhat but weighed against the abovementioned reasons, it’s not a big deal really. Ok next time round (next holiday when I decide to go busking again I mean) I’ll leave the hat at home.
By the time I’d finally decided I was done for the day I’d accumulated $17 in my case, in all denominations lower than $2. Not much by usual busking standards but not bad still for 45-50 mins work. Much better money than working as some crummy sales promoter and it’s a lot more fun. In fact, I wasn’t really expecting to get much more than $4 in loose coins. Then once more I reminded myself why I was doing this. Yeap you guessed it. Just for the kicks.
Not wanting to break my promise to myself I gave some to the buskers I saw on my way back to the station. I then decided to come back next week on the same day.
To be continued.....
I headed down towards Orchard Rd with zero income but increased resolve, knowing that surely no one would hassle me at the Wheelock Place underpass. Afterall there were a few buskers there from time to time. I’d just wait till there’s no one then I’ll start doing my thing.
As I walked towards my location I passed by several buskers. There was the usual blind fellow near the MRT station playing the keyboards this time, an old fellow playing er-hu near Wisma and some weird mime artist whose act consisted of staying stationary in some white feather outfit next to a plastic skeleton cradling a baby. Didn’t read his sign too closely but it seemed to be something about world peace. Oh well, to each his own.
Seeing these guys a thought entered my mind; “Am I depriving these guys of a living? Me, a lucky chap from a middle-income family studying in NUS competing with these guys for loose change?” Apart from that weirdo with the skeleton I suddenly felt a tinge of guilt. I then decided that I would share some of whatever fortune I amassed that day with the rest of the buskers. After all, I was in this just for the kicks. Yeah man, just for the kicks.
As luck would have it my intended spot was vacant. Not wasting any time I sat down on the floor and started playing my usual slide stuff. Upon playing my first few notes the acoustic quality of the place struck me. All of a sudden my guitar sounded so much livelier in this relatively large but enclosed area. Human traffic was minimal so it didn’t affect the sound much. Inspired by the circumstances, I dived into my first tune with gusto.
Response was non-existent at first. A whole lot of Orchard Roadies passed me by without so much as a glance to see where the noise was coming from. Some of them were jabbering on their handphones so I lowered my volume when they passed by to avoid being a nuisance. The first 10 minutes or so saw my guitar case being as empty as it was at the beginning till a nice old lady probably took pity on this guy playing an old beat-up guitar as though his life depended on it. She dropped a 50 cent coin and in between licks I looked up and thanked her. Apparently she didn’t think much of it and thus didn’t respond. Well she’d been gracious enough to spare that coin anyway and I was grateful enough, thrilled at my first income for the day.
The next few minutes that followed just happened in a flurry. All of a sudden a $2 note appeared courtesy of an angmor mother with her kids, and a few more of those followed, with some coins in between. I didn’t really do a demographic survey but most of them seemed to be expats, tourists or nice old ladies. And exactly one Jap-looking chick. I thought to myself “Man, this is starting to look real good!” Plus, lots and lots of eye candy were walking through the tunnel and while my hands were busy making the music, my eyes were busy making merry. “Yeah this is the life man…I’m having fun playing guitar, spreading my music, get to see lots of chicks, and getting money for it. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” No one stopped to listen or anything like that but I still enjoyed myself.
It was in this process that I discovered the use of the hat. I felt obliged to look back at everyone who looked at me and somehow the hat afforded me some degree of comfort in that respect. While of course I would have liked to establish eye contact with everyone who took an interest in what I was doing, it still felt awkward just sitting there and looking at people. It is only now after I sat down to write this that I realised I shouldn’t have worn the hat because I feel it somehow reduces the audience connection with the performer. Or something like that. Plus, I could be missing out on some real fine chicks. Sure, taking away the hat reduces the cool factor somewhat but weighed against the abovementioned reasons, it’s not a big deal really. Ok next time round (next holiday when I decide to go busking again I mean) I’ll leave the hat at home.
By the time I’d finally decided I was done for the day I’d accumulated $17 in my case, in all denominations lower than $2. Not much by usual busking standards but not bad still for 45-50 mins work. Much better money than working as some crummy sales promoter and it’s a lot more fun. In fact, I wasn’t really expecting to get much more than $4 in loose coins. Then once more I reminded myself why I was doing this. Yeap you guessed it. Just for the kicks.
Not wanting to break my promise to myself I gave some to the buskers I saw on my way back to the station. I then decided to come back next week on the same day.
To be continued.....
# posted by BloozeGit @ 1:13 am 
