Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Memoirs of a busker - Episode 3
The 2nd day
I occupied the same spot at the tunnel and played my usual blues stuff (what else?). The day seemed rather uneventful except for the high volume of chicks per unit human traffic flow. The only interesting thing to happen was that while I was playing I was approached by this portly middle-aged guy who worked for an events company. He asked if I did this for a living (!) and of course I let on that I was a student at NUS. Turned out that his company was going to organize some event involving buskers and he was wondering if I’d like to be a part of it. Not wanting to miss out on such an opportunity (and source of income) I agreed and we exchanged phone numbers and a few more pleasantries before he went his way.
At that time I figured this could more than make up for my lack of income that day ($10) in terms of the potential to earn more from a decent gig. Turned out later that I never heard from him since then. Wonder who else he got to play that function, if it happened at all.
After playing for 45 mins and getting only $10 I decided to break for lunch and return to try my luck again. However, when I came back I found my spot occupied by some nerdy looking dweeb who played classical flute while reading the score on his lap. In the empty ice cream tub he used to collect money he displayed something that caught my eye:
NATIONAL ARTS COUNCIL LICENSE
Guess he could be bothered with all that bureaucratic red tape. Good for him. At this time I noticed that his ice cream tub already had a substantial number of $2 notes which probably added up to more than my takings for the day. And I’d only been gone for half an hour. I waited for another half an hour at Borders before returning and I still saw him there, except that his tub by now was overflowing with notes of up to $10.
Shucks. I guess playing a classical instrument, classical repertoire and having a license gave him much more earning power. I slung my guitar over my shoulder and headed back home.
The 3rd Day
This time when I got to the tunnel that danged flute player was there again. One thing which caught me by surprise was that he played the same song that he played the last time I saw him! Perhaps it’s coincidence, I told myself. Content to wait for my turn, I went into Wheelock Place, sat down on the bench next to the escalator and took out a book to read. Incidentally this book is called The Mastery Of Music by Barry Green, which describes the personality traits observed in players of certain instruments within an orchestral context. For example, he describes trumpet players and percussionists as being people with confidence, viola players as tolerant people who serve best as mediators and so on and so forth (Wonder what he’d have to say about flute players). A very interesting read even for the non-classical amateur musician like myself, perhaps even for the non-musician. Do have a look at it if you see it at the bookstore.
Within 2 minutes of sitting there and hearing that flute player, I realised that he was playing the introduction of some classical song (you know, the kind that everyone knows the tune to but no one remembers the title) every time someone walked past and when they were out of earshot he simply stopped playing! He carried on doing this for a good 50 minutes and by then I’d probably heard the first few bars of that song about a thousand times. “What an ABSOLUTE FRAUD!” I thought to myself. My way was that I’d just play on even if there wasn’t anyone because chances are someone could be coming down the escalator from where I can’t see and besides, it’s about the music and the song. On top of that, my personal belief (which applies outside of music as well) is that if you start something you should finish it too.
Along comes this slacker who pulls a top class money-wrangling act with his totally deplorable methods, playing the same notes to death only for the sake of playing when people are around without sparing a thought for musicality. While of course it may seem as though I’m adopting a “holier-than-thou” attitude, I can at least safely say that when I play, I do it mainly for the music and the enjoyment of it, not just for the opportunity to profit. Not that I would mind getting any cash, mind you, but I’d prefer to stay true to my personal convictions while I’m doing it.
Enough ranting. Once that flute blower (note the change of term) buggered off I occupied the spot and did my usual thing. This time round I was getting noticeably increased audience interest. A pair of Indian girls dropped off a $2 note each and stood around to listen till I ended the song with a bemused smile on their faces, probably wondering who on earth would make such weird, curious noises on a guitar. As I finished off the song I looked up and returned the smile, and they carried on towards Wheelock.
A while later I noticed a group of teenage girls of varying racial mix crowding around at the escalator end of the tunnel, consisting of a few blondes and brunettes. They were there for a about 1 minute or so and after that, they sent one representative over to drop a $2 note. Fortunately for me it seems they picked the best-looking of the lot, a fair Eurasian brunette. Things were really looking good for the day, but there was more to come.
To be continued...
I occupied the same spot at the tunnel and played my usual blues stuff (what else?). The day seemed rather uneventful except for the high volume of chicks per unit human traffic flow. The only interesting thing to happen was that while I was playing I was approached by this portly middle-aged guy who worked for an events company. He asked if I did this for a living (!) and of course I let on that I was a student at NUS. Turned out that his company was going to organize some event involving buskers and he was wondering if I’d like to be a part of it. Not wanting to miss out on such an opportunity (and source of income) I agreed and we exchanged phone numbers and a few more pleasantries before he went his way.
At that time I figured this could more than make up for my lack of income that day ($10) in terms of the potential to earn more from a decent gig. Turned out later that I never heard from him since then. Wonder who else he got to play that function, if it happened at all.
After playing for 45 mins and getting only $10 I decided to break for lunch and return to try my luck again. However, when I came back I found my spot occupied by some nerdy looking dweeb who played classical flute while reading the score on his lap. In the empty ice cream tub he used to collect money he displayed something that caught my eye:
NATIONAL ARTS COUNCIL LICENSE
Guess he could be bothered with all that bureaucratic red tape. Good for him. At this time I noticed that his ice cream tub already had a substantial number of $2 notes which probably added up to more than my takings for the day. And I’d only been gone for half an hour. I waited for another half an hour at Borders before returning and I still saw him there, except that his tub by now was overflowing with notes of up to $10.
Shucks. I guess playing a classical instrument, classical repertoire and having a license gave him much more earning power. I slung my guitar over my shoulder and headed back home.
The 3rd Day
This time when I got to the tunnel that danged flute player was there again. One thing which caught me by surprise was that he played the same song that he played the last time I saw him! Perhaps it’s coincidence, I told myself. Content to wait for my turn, I went into Wheelock Place, sat down on the bench next to the escalator and took out a book to read. Incidentally this book is called The Mastery Of Music by Barry Green, which describes the personality traits observed in players of certain instruments within an orchestral context. For example, he describes trumpet players and percussionists as being people with confidence, viola players as tolerant people who serve best as mediators and so on and so forth (Wonder what he’d have to say about flute players). A very interesting read even for the non-classical amateur musician like myself, perhaps even for the non-musician. Do have a look at it if you see it at the bookstore.
Within 2 minutes of sitting there and hearing that flute player, I realised that he was playing the introduction of some classical song (you know, the kind that everyone knows the tune to but no one remembers the title) every time someone walked past and when they were out of earshot he simply stopped playing! He carried on doing this for a good 50 minutes and by then I’d probably heard the first few bars of that song about a thousand times. “What an ABSOLUTE FRAUD!” I thought to myself. My way was that I’d just play on even if there wasn’t anyone because chances are someone could be coming down the escalator from where I can’t see and besides, it’s about the music and the song. On top of that, my personal belief (which applies outside of music as well) is that if you start something you should finish it too.
Along comes this slacker who pulls a top class money-wrangling act with his totally deplorable methods, playing the same notes to death only for the sake of playing when people are around without sparing a thought for musicality. While of course it may seem as though I’m adopting a “holier-than-thou” attitude, I can at least safely say that when I play, I do it mainly for the music and the enjoyment of it, not just for the opportunity to profit. Not that I would mind getting any cash, mind you, but I’d prefer to stay true to my personal convictions while I’m doing it.
Enough ranting. Once that flute blower (note the change of term) buggered off I occupied the spot and did my usual thing. This time round I was getting noticeably increased audience interest. A pair of Indian girls dropped off a $2 note each and stood around to listen till I ended the song with a bemused smile on their faces, probably wondering who on earth would make such weird, curious noises on a guitar. As I finished off the song I looked up and returned the smile, and they carried on towards Wheelock.
A while later I noticed a group of teenage girls of varying racial mix crowding around at the escalator end of the tunnel, consisting of a few blondes and brunettes. They were there for a about 1 minute or so and after that, they sent one representative over to drop a $2 note. Fortunately for me it seems they picked the best-looking of the lot, a fair Eurasian brunette. Things were really looking good for the day, but there was more to come.
To be continued...
# posted by BloozeGit @ 12:57 am 
