Buskers and Dilemmas
There was a time, many years ago, when buskers on the tube system were amateur and taking a chance.
In recent times, in the more commercially aware world we now inhabit, buskers may only avoid being moved on by busking at recognised locations marked with a Carling Live sponsorship advertisment on the floor.
I'd like to think the official locations were chosen either to maximise busker revenue opportunities, or because the accoustics were favourable. Sadly I suspect they were chosen to minimise disruption to people-flow, or else to minimise the possible annoyance factor.
Given that buskers on the underground now have to pass an audition panel, it strikes me as churlish when fellow passengers tut and mutter.
To be fair only some passengers do that, I suppose there are at least an equal number that are pleased for the entertainment, and some who even show their appreciation in a pecuniary manner.
All of this is preamble (waffle, more like) to bring me to this morning.
In a memorable flash from the past, as I boarded my train at Kings Cross this morning for the short trip to Farringdon, a chap wielding a guitar jumped on as the doors were closing.
At first glance I concluded he looked as if he had been out late performing last night, got a bit drunk/high and decided to crash round a mates house and was now rushing to get somewhere for his day job.
Moments later he addressed the carriage and said, "I hope you like buskers"
Some fellow passengers groaned audibly, to which he said, "oh... For the rest of you here's a song done originally by David Bowie, and covered many times, although let's not mention the Lulu version..."
He then proceeded to play a very creditable version of the man who stole the world. Even though the track has recently been replaced and the ride is considerably less shaky than it used to be, the job of staying upright whilst playing, singing and not hitting any bum notes must still have been a challenge.
There was no applause at the end, but undeterred he said, "and for those of you who don't know what busking is for, I've got some bills to pay" and he walked through the carriage holding a bag open.
The carriage was generous, and here I come to my dilemma.
In anticipation of the inevitable request for money, I had reached into my pocket to discover I had the sum total of 10p.
Was I to ignore him?
Should I just put the 10p in the bag and hope he didn't notice? (With hindsight probably the best option)
Should I mutter some platitude and be terribly British by apologising for not being able to offer anything further?
I took the last option, and I have a horrible feeling most of the carriage now has me marked as a cheapskate.
So if that was you this morning, I liked your David Bowie rendition, and I enjoyed the quick blast of the Pink Panther TV theme as we came into Farringdon and I would have given you more money, but I'm afraid I have no idea what your concrete blocks thought for the day was all about.
In recent times, in the more commercially aware world we now inhabit, buskers may only avoid being moved on by busking at recognised locations marked with a Carling Live sponsorship advertisment on the floor.
I'd like to think the official locations were chosen either to maximise busker revenue opportunities, or because the accoustics were favourable. Sadly I suspect they were chosen to minimise disruption to people-flow, or else to minimise the possible annoyance factor.
Given that buskers on the underground now have to pass an audition panel, it strikes me as churlish when fellow passengers tut and mutter.
To be fair only some passengers do that, I suppose there are at least an equal number that are pleased for the entertainment, and some who even show their appreciation in a pecuniary manner.
All of this is preamble (waffle, more like) to bring me to this morning.
In a memorable flash from the past, as I boarded my train at Kings Cross this morning for the short trip to Farringdon, a chap wielding a guitar jumped on as the doors were closing.
At first glance I concluded he looked as if he had been out late performing last night, got a bit drunk/high and decided to crash round a mates house and was now rushing to get somewhere for his day job.
Moments later he addressed the carriage and said, "I hope you like buskers"
Some fellow passengers groaned audibly, to which he said, "oh... For the rest of you here's a song done originally by David Bowie, and covered many times, although let's not mention the Lulu version..."
He then proceeded to play a very creditable version of the man who stole the world. Even though the track has recently been replaced and the ride is considerably less shaky than it used to be, the job of staying upright whilst playing, singing and not hitting any bum notes must still have been a challenge.
There was no applause at the end, but undeterred he said, "and for those of you who don't know what busking is for, I've got some bills to pay" and he walked through the carriage holding a bag open.
The carriage was generous, and here I come to my dilemma.
In anticipation of the inevitable request for money, I had reached into my pocket to discover I had the sum total of 10p.
Was I to ignore him?
Should I just put the 10p in the bag and hope he didn't notice? (With hindsight probably the best option)
Should I mutter some platitude and be terribly British by apologising for not being able to offer anything further?
I took the last option, and I have a horrible feeling most of the carriage now has me marked as a cheapskate.
So if that was you this morning, I liked your David Bowie rendition, and I enjoyed the quick blast of the Pink Panther TV theme as we came into Farringdon and I would have given you more money, but I'm afraid I have no idea what your concrete blocks thought for the day was all about.
posted by Furry at 6:06 pm
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