Thursday, August 18, 2005
Memoirs of a busker - Final Episode
The 3rd Day – Part 2
A voice interrupted me; “ Hello brother, can you play Let It Be?” When I looked up I saw a slightly balding guy who was probably in his 50s, his coarse, leathery skin tanned by many hours in the sun and the lines on his face looked as though each one had a story to tell. He was dressed simply in a T-shirt with some brand of petrol on it, trousers and a well-worn pair of shoes. Thinking that he was probably a retiree hoping to hear a familiar song and not wanting to turn him down too directly, I offered an excuse; “Sorry ah uncle I can play lah but I cannot sing.” (which is more of a fact than an excuse really.)
“Nevermind lah I sing!” and without waiting for my reply he put down his traveling bag and sat down right beside me. A little surprised, I thought it would be rather rude to refuse now so I duly obliged and tuned my guitar back to standard tuning. I strummed a chord to indicate the starting key and off we went.
The song itself started rather shakily, thanks to the fact that I don’t play these songs all that often and was desperately trying to figure out the chords for the song as I went along. His erratic sense of timing didn’t help much. Still, he gamely went along with the song and closed his eyes as he belted out the words in a strained, gravelly baritone.
And when the broken-hearted people
Living in this world agree
There will be an answer
Let it be
As I got into the groove of the song somehow my shyness and reservations disappeared and ignoring all notions about my singing ability, I started singing along at the chorus.
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be,
There will be an answer
Let it be
It all happened so fast I could barely comprehend it. The moment I started singing I felt as though my already-high spirits were being lifted up even higher and as I sang, every word got louder and louder. The resulting cacophony was almost like two mad dogs howling in an elevator but I really didn’t care if anyone stared at us like we were crazy. All my worries about my love life, studies, hall crap suddenly disappeared as I felt as though I were being elevated to a higher level. Level of what I don’t know, but all of a sudden these things just appeared to be so trivial. It was as though they were really that way all along and I never realised it until it suddenly dawned upon me. It felt really good.
At that moment nothing short of a battalion-level full-frontal assault could stop the two of us and by the time the song was over, I felt as though I’d just undergone a sort of initiation into the life of busking. Of singing and playing like there was no yesterday and no tomorrow, just living for today. Before I could fully comprehend what had just happened, the old guy turned to me and muttered “Country Roads, the John Denver one.”
Without hesitation I started playing that song and we did the same thing, he singing the verse and I joining in at the chorus. Now that I think about it, it must have been a very comical sight. One old-timer and one young guy sitting on the floor, both shabbily dressed, crooning like horny bullfrogs and one of them pounding out chords on a beat-up, slightly out of tune guitar.
In between verses, he nudged me with his elbow and gestured somewhere, flashing a happy toothless grin. I glanced towards where he was motioning and saw a well-dressed, middle-aged tai-tai looking at us with a mixture of amusement and pity. She must have thought it was comical too. She dug around in her purse and produced a $10 note, which she then handed to the old guy. He received it with both hands and a very grateful “Thank you”, after which he turned to me with that same but more delighted toothless grin.
After we were done with the song we introduced ourselves. His name was Costello and he played harmonica around the Orchard Road area too. He used to sell tissue but found it unprofitable so he switched to busking. I didn’t tell him too much about myself other than that I was doing this for fun.
He held up the note and said “This one, you 5 dollar, I 5 dollar ok?”
I gestured towards my guitar case and replied “It’s ok I have quite a bit here already. You keep lah.”
He didn’t argue with me on that. After putting the note in his pocket he said; “Eh you can play quite ok one…next time you come here you bring your guitar we busk together lah. Like that can earn more money!”
I took him up on his offer and agreed to do so if we met the next time I go busking, which hopefully won’t be too far away. I bade him farewell, packed up my stuff and made my way home with a renewed determination not to let the silly little things in life (such as pesky flute blowers) bother me too much ever again. Afterall, all I have to do is howl like a mad dog to get rid of my woes, right?
A voice interrupted me; “ Hello brother, can you play Let It Be?” When I looked up I saw a slightly balding guy who was probably in his 50s, his coarse, leathery skin tanned by many hours in the sun and the lines on his face looked as though each one had a story to tell. He was dressed simply in a T-shirt with some brand of petrol on it, trousers and a well-worn pair of shoes. Thinking that he was probably a retiree hoping to hear a familiar song and not wanting to turn him down too directly, I offered an excuse; “Sorry ah uncle I can play lah but I cannot sing.” (which is more of a fact than an excuse really.)
“Nevermind lah I sing!” and without waiting for my reply he put down his traveling bag and sat down right beside me. A little surprised, I thought it would be rather rude to refuse now so I duly obliged and tuned my guitar back to standard tuning. I strummed a chord to indicate the starting key and off we went.
The song itself started rather shakily, thanks to the fact that I don’t play these songs all that often and was desperately trying to figure out the chords for the song as I went along. His erratic sense of timing didn’t help much. Still, he gamely went along with the song and closed his eyes as he belted out the words in a strained, gravelly baritone.
And when the broken-hearted people
Living in this world agree
There will be an answer
Let it be
As I got into the groove of the song somehow my shyness and reservations disappeared and ignoring all notions about my singing ability, I started singing along at the chorus.
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be,
There will be an answer
Let it be
It all happened so fast I could barely comprehend it. The moment I started singing I felt as though my already-high spirits were being lifted up even higher and as I sang, every word got louder and louder. The resulting cacophony was almost like two mad dogs howling in an elevator but I really didn’t care if anyone stared at us like we were crazy. All my worries about my love life, studies, hall crap suddenly disappeared as I felt as though I were being elevated to a higher level. Level of what I don’t know, but all of a sudden these things just appeared to be so trivial. It was as though they were really that way all along and I never realised it until it suddenly dawned upon me. It felt really good.
At that moment nothing short of a battalion-level full-frontal assault could stop the two of us and by the time the song was over, I felt as though I’d just undergone a sort of initiation into the life of busking. Of singing and playing like there was no yesterday and no tomorrow, just living for today. Before I could fully comprehend what had just happened, the old guy turned to me and muttered “Country Roads, the John Denver one.”
Without hesitation I started playing that song and we did the same thing, he singing the verse and I joining in at the chorus. Now that I think about it, it must have been a very comical sight. One old-timer and one young guy sitting on the floor, both shabbily dressed, crooning like horny bullfrogs and one of them pounding out chords on a beat-up, slightly out of tune guitar.
In between verses, he nudged me with his elbow and gestured somewhere, flashing a happy toothless grin. I glanced towards where he was motioning and saw a well-dressed, middle-aged tai-tai looking at us with a mixture of amusement and pity. She must have thought it was comical too. She dug around in her purse and produced a $10 note, which she then handed to the old guy. He received it with both hands and a very grateful “Thank you”, after which he turned to me with that same but more delighted toothless grin.
After we were done with the song we introduced ourselves. His name was Costello and he played harmonica around the Orchard Road area too. He used to sell tissue but found it unprofitable so he switched to busking. I didn’t tell him too much about myself other than that I was doing this for fun.
He held up the note and said “This one, you 5 dollar, I 5 dollar ok?”
I gestured towards my guitar case and replied “It’s ok I have quite a bit here already. You keep lah.”
He didn’t argue with me on that. After putting the note in his pocket he said; “Eh you can play quite ok one…next time you come here you bring your guitar we busk together lah. Like that can earn more money!”
I took him up on his offer and agreed to do so if we met the next time I go busking, which hopefully won’t be too far away. I bade him farewell, packed up my stuff and made my way home with a renewed determination not to let the silly little things in life (such as pesky flute blowers) bother me too much ever again. Afterall, all I have to do is howl like a mad dog to get rid of my woes, right?
# posted by BloozeGit @ 6:07 pm 
