I had another very successful day around the Noe Valley farmer's market this morning. I didn't plan for it, usually I go to bed Friday night knowing I'll be getting up to my alarm to play there, and thus resent it (since it involves an alarm). This time I didn't plan for it, since I've neglected my routine of late due to rain, tourism, and friends visiting. The Saturday morning show didn't follow a Friday night of playing, like usual, which also make it less daunting. Despite waking up early, on previous Saturdays I didn't start playing until around 11:00. I woke up naturally today at 10:00 and saw a note from Andrea requesting that I pick up some of our favorite baby broccoli at the Farmer's Market. That reminded me of the event, and I was at my corner with my squeezebox strapped on by 10:47.
This was a seriously fun day, because of the kids. So many kids paraded by on their way to and from the market, and most parents were willing to stop. In a nice diversion from the usual hits of "The Wheels on the Bus" and "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," some kids requested "I've Been Working on the Railroad" and "Puff the Magic Dragon." It's always nice to mix things up. One boy did ask for Twinkle. Then he asked for Baa Baa Black Sheep. Then he asked for ABC. After years of studying music, I've learned that these three songs have the exact same tune. The kid didn't seem to notice that I played the same thing three times in a row. It's interesting to follow parents' leads with these songs, as the only distinguishing features are the syllables. Sometimes I'll start playing the melody, see which lyrics the parents start singing, then alter the syllables to match. Same goes for verses of Wheels on the Bus; the parents usually do them out of order (Uh, where I come from the doors have to go open and shut before the driver says "Move on Back!") so I see what they do and go with it. That song usually only lasts two verses anyway.
Most kids were really shy, not having any role in my musical and financial interactions with them. Most "Say thank you!"s and "Say bye-bye!"s were followed by silence. This made it really special when a tiny girl came up and put money in my box. I said thank you and she looked up, made eye contact, smiled, and said, "You're welcome." I also learned today that twins make for extra income. Usually when there are multiple kids, the youngest is granted the responsibility of depositing money in my box. In the case of twins the parents can't just choose one, so I get double the money. There were tons of twins out today (I saw at least five sets), so this phenomenon became apparent to me.
Today reminded me that I love playing for kids. In Provincetown there were kids, in Boston there were some kids (who were more into the elf costume than the music), and best of all, Northampton First Night was full of kids. San Francisco's been lacking in that regard, so my instinct is to appeal to the grown-ups in music and appearance. In anticipation of today's crowd I left behind my sexy boots in favor of my Bert and Ernie earrings. I felt great playing in a wholesome environment of Saturday morning Farmer's Market shoppers and latte sippers who are eager to contribute both to music and to education (my student loans sign). I get more questions about my studies here than anywhere (and fewer questions about my plans that evening), which is refreshing. I didn't play the ^%$#*(&ing Lady Gaga medley once. The songs that are my favorites to play were the ones worth playing: Fly Me To the Moon, Beyond the Sea, and the Amelie songs.
In addition to the professional and emotional fulfillment I received this morning, I also made BANK. I haven't counted yet, but the money was coming in. This was just what I needed after discouraging Tuesday.
But it was hella (as we say here) cold. I had to wear my accordion gloves, which never help my playing.
The end.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Those Damn Girl Scouts
In line with the usual schedule, I headed to the Ferry Building on Tuesday morning. Everything was in line for a perfect day of playing: it was sunny out, I got the good spot in the crosswalk, it had just stopped raining so folks were out, and nothing was radically different in the appearance of my setup or the quality of my playing. But for whatever reason, I did very poorly on Tuesday. I didn't bother counting but I watched each donation come in and the were very few and very far between.
The only thing setting this Tuesday apart from others was the presence of the Girl Scouts. Soon after I set up, two girl scouts, a mother, and a wagon full of cookies showed up. I didn't think it would affect business; if anything I thought it would help since each cookie box is $4. Thus patrons present a $5 bill, get a single in change, and immediately turn around and drop it in my box. I didn't see them as competition really, since we had much different wares. Anyway I don't think it was the Scouts' fault, since they weren't doing much business ever. After I threw in the towel I decided that I might as well spend my meager earnings on some Samoas.
One strange thing did happen: a drummer came with all his equipment and set up quite near me. In this space is it obvious that two musicians can't both play, and it perplexed me that he didn't come talk to me before setting up, which took him a very long time. This concerned me, because what if he refused to listen to reason and just played over me? I imagined the conversation we would have when he started playing. I feared that it would go something like this:
Sophie: Hi! I'm playing here at the moment.
Andrew: Well I'm going to play too, dollface.
Sophie: I'm afraid you're too close to me, so that won't work.
Andrew: And what are you going to do about it?
Sophie: Uhh...
This is where I was stumped. He had no legal obligation to leave me alone. The beauty of this crosswalk area is that there are no permit laws, leaving it a free for all. Every musician for zirself. The only possible comeback I could think of was a complex plan involving a sign that I would magically write out informing passersby of the difficulty I was having playing over the drummer who refused to wait his turn. So there.
Finally he did start playing, and as I had rehearsed I politely asked a Girl Scout to watch my stuff while I went to talk to him. This was my first street musician confrontation, and I was nervous. The actual conversation went something like this:
Sophie: Huhh [ahem] hi. [Over drums] HI.
Andrew: Oh hello!
Sophie: So I'm uh kind of playing right now.
A: Yeah, well it takes me forever to set up all this stuff, since you have an accordion I thought you could just move somewhere else. I can't move now that I'm set up.
S: Well that's why I expected you would come talk to me before setting up. I'll be here for at least another hour.
A: Well I can sit tight for another couple of minutes, but that's it. You might want to move since I'll drown you out.
S: Sorry, you really have to get here early if you want to get this spot.
A [Total change in attitude]: Oh, do you always play here on Tuesdays?
S: Yes I do!
A: Okay, this is my first time trying this spot, now that I know it's yours I'll stay away!
S: Oh you don't have to do that! If you get here before me sometime it's all yours!
A: Oh, no, I don't want to steal your territory! I'm Andrew.
S: Nice to meet you, Andrew, I'm Sophie. I'll pack it up a little early today.
A: Okay, thanks! I'll sit tight for a bit.
Well done, Andrew. You started out with pure gypsy trickery, then when that didn't work nicely segued into the "we're all in this together" Street Musician Negotiation approach. I packed up soon after that because it truly was a waste of time, and it's not like Andrew was going to steal my patrons. He was off the beaten path of the crosswalk-users, and thus someone would have had to really really dig his act to go over and donate. I should have just caught him as he was setting up to tell him that folks weren't biting.
I did have a photojournalism student hanging around who took some cool photos. I'm waiting for them to show up on FB, then I'll post them here. All in all, this was a discouraging day. Working for tips in this fashion is annoying: as a waitress on a slow day you make less money but you work less; you avoid rushes and stress and bodily exertion. As a street musician on a slow day you work just as hard but don't make money. I accept making less money on days when I take lots of breaks or don't play for very long, but it's frustrating when I play hard for a long period of time and don't make money. I might take a break from the Ferry Building.
The only thing setting this Tuesday apart from others was the presence of the Girl Scouts. Soon after I set up, two girl scouts, a mother, and a wagon full of cookies showed up. I didn't think it would affect business; if anything I thought it would help since each cookie box is $4. Thus patrons present a $5 bill, get a single in change, and immediately turn around and drop it in my box. I didn't see them as competition really, since we had much different wares. Anyway I don't think it was the Scouts' fault, since they weren't doing much business ever. After I threw in the towel I decided that I might as well spend my meager earnings on some Samoas.
One strange thing did happen: a drummer came with all his equipment and set up quite near me. In this space is it obvious that two musicians can't both play, and it perplexed me that he didn't come talk to me before setting up, which took him a very long time. This concerned me, because what if he refused to listen to reason and just played over me? I imagined the conversation we would have when he started playing. I feared that it would go something like this:
Sophie: Hi! I'm playing here at the moment.
Andrew: Well I'm going to play too, dollface.
Sophie: I'm afraid you're too close to me, so that won't work.
Andrew: And what are you going to do about it?
Sophie: Uhh...
This is where I was stumped. He had no legal obligation to leave me alone. The beauty of this crosswalk area is that there are no permit laws, leaving it a free for all. Every musician for zirself. The only possible comeback I could think of was a complex plan involving a sign that I would magically write out informing passersby of the difficulty I was having playing over the drummer who refused to wait his turn. So there.
Finally he did start playing, and as I had rehearsed I politely asked a Girl Scout to watch my stuff while I went to talk to him. This was my first street musician confrontation, and I was nervous. The actual conversation went something like this:
Sophie: Huhh [ahem] hi. [Over drums] HI.
Andrew: Oh hello!
Sophie: So I'm uh kind of playing right now.
A: Yeah, well it takes me forever to set up all this stuff, since you have an accordion I thought you could just move somewhere else. I can't move now that I'm set up.
S: Well that's why I expected you would come talk to me before setting up. I'll be here for at least another hour.
A: Well I can sit tight for another couple of minutes, but that's it. You might want to move since I'll drown you out.
S: Sorry, you really have to get here early if you want to get this spot.
A [Total change in attitude]: Oh, do you always play here on Tuesdays?
S: Yes I do!
A: Okay, this is my first time trying this spot, now that I know it's yours I'll stay away!
S: Oh you don't have to do that! If you get here before me sometime it's all yours!
A: Oh, no, I don't want to steal your territory! I'm Andrew.
S: Nice to meet you, Andrew, I'm Sophie. I'll pack it up a little early today.
A: Okay, thanks! I'll sit tight for a bit.
Well done, Andrew. You started out with pure gypsy trickery, then when that didn't work nicely segued into the "we're all in this together" Street Musician Negotiation approach. I packed up soon after that because it truly was a waste of time, and it's not like Andrew was going to steal my patrons. He was off the beaten path of the crosswalk-users, and thus someone would have had to really really dig his act to go over and donate. I should have just caught him as he was setting up to tell him that folks weren't biting.
I did have a photojournalism student hanging around who took some cool photos. I'm waiting for them to show up on FB, then I'll post them here. All in all, this was a discouraging day. Working for tips in this fashion is annoying: as a waitress on a slow day you make less money but you work less; you avoid rushes and stress and bodily exertion. As a street musician on a slow day you work just as hard but don't make money. I accept making less money on days when I take lots of breaks or don't play for very long, but it's frustrating when I play hard for a long period of time and don't make money. I might take a break from the Ferry Building.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Rain Rain Go Away
So last week it rained and rained. I planned a big Valentine's Day production, but alas could not work due to precipitation. I did take advantage of the weather by learning a new Yann Tiersen song from "Amelie," "La Noyée" and properly arranging "La Vie En Rose."
Finally the heavens closed up on Sunday, so I headed out. I set up near the Ferry Building and played for about an hour and a half. Nothing eventful really happened. I smiled when a little girl dressed all in pink walked by with her new toys: a beautiful, sparkly, flower-covered pink pink pink garland tiara thing, and, in line with the color scheme, a pink whoopie cushion. Good choices, sweetie. Unfortunately my arms hurt a lot. It turns out it's not the playing every day that bothers them, it's NOT playing for a few days then playing song after song that bothers them. Ow. I quit early both because of that and because I had decided to play a second set that evening since the following day was a holiday so folks wouldn't be going to work.
My box got some attention on the bus when a little dog smelled the dog biscuits that Tiger put in my box in Northampton (they're long gone, but I assume they're why dogs always smell it). The dog's owner inquired about the contents, taking the playful nature of the painting to mean the box contained toys or children's books. He offered me condolences for Ruby's death (oh, how did that come up?).
After a burrito break, I headed to the Castro to play for the evening. Unfortunately someone (my rival, nonetheless) had the good spot, so I set up elsewhere. It wasn't going well. This guy did invite me to play at his party, saying that no one would pay any attention to me, that I would be completely ignored. Hey, I'm used to that. After a woman spent a while taking pictures/video and went on her way without a donation, I packed up and decided to try my new spot, 16th and Valencia.
Before I finished setting up, it was clear that this move was a good choice. Two guys came over and asked what I was going to do. I showed them my accordion, and one guy said something like "That deserves $5!" and gave me a bill before I even produced a note. They asked if they could request a song. Before they could think of one they saw my set list and chose songs from there. They settled for Brown Eyed Girl, Fly Me To The Moon and something Irish. Good picks. One of them spotted one of the two $2 I leave in my box as "feed money" (the pre-planted bills to lure in money). He wanted to buy it off me, which I permitted. Having one in there is cool but two was unnecessary. I got them both as donations, and I hope that another received this one in a similar fashion (these guys were doing a night of drinking, so I'm hoping a bartender went home with this bill).
While I was playing "Don't Stop Me Now," a guy stopped walking and started loosely conducting. He said, "Beatles!" I said, "Queen!" He said, "No it's the Beatles, 'Let it Be.'" It wasn't. So I started playing Let It Be and he sang along then said, "See? Beatles." Fine, you win.
It was cold, and I called it an early night. I'll ease back into this, there's more rain coming anyway.
Check my youtube channel for a video taken last night of "Morir Soñando:"
Finally the heavens closed up on Sunday, so I headed out. I set up near the Ferry Building and played for about an hour and a half. Nothing eventful really happened. I smiled when a little girl dressed all in pink walked by with her new toys: a beautiful, sparkly, flower-covered pink pink pink garland tiara thing, and, in line with the color scheme, a pink whoopie cushion. Good choices, sweetie. Unfortunately my arms hurt a lot. It turns out it's not the playing every day that bothers them, it's NOT playing for a few days then playing song after song that bothers them. Ow. I quit early both because of that and because I had decided to play a second set that evening since the following day was a holiday so folks wouldn't be going to work.
My box got some attention on the bus when a little dog smelled the dog biscuits that Tiger put in my box in Northampton (they're long gone, but I assume they're why dogs always smell it). The dog's owner inquired about the contents, taking the playful nature of the painting to mean the box contained toys or children's books. He offered me condolences for Ruby's death (oh, how did that come up?).
After a burrito break, I headed to the Castro to play for the evening. Unfortunately someone (my rival, nonetheless) had the good spot, so I set up elsewhere. It wasn't going well. This guy did invite me to play at his party, saying that no one would pay any attention to me, that I would be completely ignored. Hey, I'm used to that. After a woman spent a while taking pictures/video and went on her way without a donation, I packed up and decided to try my new spot, 16th and Valencia.
Before I finished setting up, it was clear that this move was a good choice. Two guys came over and asked what I was going to do. I showed them my accordion, and one guy said something like "That deserves $5!" and gave me a bill before I even produced a note. They asked if they could request a song. Before they could think of one they saw my set list and chose songs from there. They settled for Brown Eyed Girl, Fly Me To The Moon and something Irish. Good picks. One of them spotted one of the two $2 I leave in my box as "feed money" (the pre-planted bills to lure in money). He wanted to buy it off me, which I permitted. Having one in there is cool but two was unnecessary. I got them both as donations, and I hope that another received this one in a similar fashion (these guys were doing a night of drinking, so I'm hoping a bartender went home with this bill).
While I was playing "Don't Stop Me Now," a guy stopped walking and started loosely conducting. He said, "Beatles!" I said, "Queen!" He said, "No it's the Beatles, 'Let it Be.'" It wasn't. So I started playing Let It Be and he sang along then said, "See? Beatles." Fine, you win.
It was cold, and I called it an early night. I'll ease back into this, there's more rain coming anyway.
Check my youtube channel for a video taken last night of "Morir Soñando:"
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Mission
Last night was ridiculous.
I will preface this by saying that I was really down on busking last week. I had a negative interaction with a fellow street musician and I wonder if that affected me more than I acknowledged, because I really didn't feel like playing. Weekdays are hard anyway. I was just really sick of my songs, of my bungee cords, of smiling nonstop. Sick of being alone while looking for spots, playing, and going home. I was having doubts about my current occupation for the first time, and wondering where I could go from here. I know I'm not good enough at the accordion to seek or accept gigs, but if I keep playing just well enough to make money on the streets I'm going to get bored, I reckon. I can attribute a couple of things to these negative feelings. One was staying up late watching youtube videos of George Watsky, San Francisco-born slam poet and good friend of my friends Jackson, Jenna, and Kush. Youtube him.
He is a perfect model of what to do with one's talent. He started performing in SF as a teen (my friends have heard of him and seen him perform!), went to college for it, has performed all over the country, and has been on Ellen (my overarching goal). He has merchandise. It's not that I resent him for his success, but quite the opposite. I am a huge fan of his, but realize that I'm SO not there yet. What we have in common is the initiative: to maintain an active youtube channel, to record our work, to make t-shirts, to travel the world doing our craft, etc. What he has that I don't is virtuosity. Now, I'm content just being a street musician, nothing more, which doesn't require virtuosity. But there is so much pressure to take it to the next level and get gigs and play for an audience. The idea of an audience for my accordion playing scares me (although I love it for singing and stuff), because my brain has to be involved. One of my favorite things to talk about is motor memory, which fascinates me. I used to think hard about my songs and be amazed when my hand got there before my brain. Now, though, I count on it. When I learn hard songs, I know there's no point in my brain memorizing it because my hands will. "Beyond the Sea" is a classic example: it's one of my prettier songs because it has a complicated right hand. I just played it over and over until my right hand knew it. The same goes for my new Jackson 5 song: I bought sheet music with a complicated right hand, I can play it when I look at the music, but I'm just waiting for my right hand to get it so I can play it on the street. Anyway, this is relevant because on the streets, my hands do the playing, and my brain does the street stuff: remembering to smile, acknowledging and thanking patrons and passersby, noticing drivers who roll down their windows, walkers who pause their iPods, etc. My brain's in charge of stereotyping the groups that will soon be walking by so I can choose between "Lady of Spain," "Lady Gaga," and "Old MacDonald Had A Farm." Half the time I don't know what song I'm playing. In a concert/audience setting, my brain wouldn't have the stuff it's used to, so it would no doubt try to backseat drive my hands and screw everything up. Once I start thinking about a song I get off and once I'm off I usually can't get back on. (Is this why people drink before performing?) The music is more important in a concert setting, as people hear the entire songs. I'm used to most people hearing a five-second snippet, so I can abort a song if I don't actually want to play it, skip verses, add verses, or meld into a new song. This is why the idea of gigs doesn't appeal to me. Since I'm not striving for gigs, people wonder why I play. I got to wondering this myself this week, wondering why I'm planning a tour, why I don't be obnoxious and go to tourist areas and get in people's faces.
But last night I did my thing and it was really uplifting. People told me that it's really brave what I'm doing, and that they wished they could quit their jobs and do what I'm doing. Although I hear that a lot, it really stays with me each time. I do need reminding of that. Last night I was truly proud of what I do again, and was able to assess my work outside of a concert-track. My "playing back student loans" sign was a hit last night, with folks telling me they're also working on theirs, or they just finished theirs, or that they're just waiting for the system to crash (one guy. Wouldn't that be nice?) I just put the sign up to make more money, but I got to thinking about the true meaning of it while my hands went off on "Don't Stop Me Now" (HA, I picked a random song but that's probably the best one I could have chosen for this post). I play to make money (among other reasons), but I don't think about what I do with that money. I just put it in my bank account, and my student loans come out of that account. However, it's much more uplifting to think that those specific wadded up dollars and sticky nickels are the ones going to the DOE in a reused manila envelope to pay off my loans. I make more than enough a month just playing to pay these, which means I could actually make enough busking in the next ten years so that every cent of my loans is paid just through music. That in it's own would give my busking purpose.
Alternatively, I have dreams of writing my memoir. (Check out Dreamtime Alice. It's a memoir of a young female busker that I read over Christmas, and it's quite inspirational both for busking and writing.) What will make my memoir a best-seller one day (aw, shucks!) is the crazy stuff that happens on the streets, playing songs badly, perhaps. A book about a group of people sitting quietly and still while I play would not be that interesting. Thus, if nothing else, I am busking to gather material for my book. I'm not trying to make it to the Hall of Fame of accordion players, just the Hall of Fame of buskers. As long as I keep upgrading my act in tangible ways (such as adding ankle percussion and continuing to learn new songs), I will get there.
Lastly, before we get to the fun stuff, I've also been feeling lonely while I play. I've met so many cool little jug bands who perform, and I envy the dynamic they must have. There are so many decisions to be made each day at work: when to play, where to play, what song to start with, when to stop for pizza, whether certain songs are working, etc., and decisions are more fun to make with other people. On the days when no one is stopping to talk (/drunkenly ramble about god knows what), I don't utter a word besides "thanks." I choose to play alone because I don't have to share the money that way (and maybe I don't want to share the fame either?), but I am now open to the opportunity of playing with other musicians, even putting together a band. Okay that's enough philosophizing for one post, on to the crazy shit that happened last night!
Friday, February 11
I chose to try playing on Valencia St. in the Mission district last night instead of in my usual Friday night spot of the Castro. Valencia St. is a bustle of coffee shops, restaurants, bookstores, vintage clothes stores, and bars, so it is obviously the most fun street in the city. I've seen buskers there on accosion (Wow. Ever since I started writing the word "accordion" frequently I can no longer write the word "according." Apparently the word "occasion" has been erased as well.) I've seen buskers there on occasion, but haven't tried yet. I'm worried about not getting a spot in the Castro on Valentine's Day night, since there are many buskers and few spots, so I wanted to try out another spot to maybe play at that night. Also I don't want to run into the douche busker. I set up on the corner of 16th St. and Valencia and played from about 7:00-10:00 pm. It was very busy, and, best of all, people actually stopped to listen. They stayed for entire songs, sometimes even multiple. That was refreshing.
1. Although out of order, I will start with...THE DRUG DEALER!! A big guy dressed all in black came up just blatantly holding his bubbler, reeking of weed. He had a big gun tattooed on his arm, and a gun necklace. He gave me $2 and made a joke about a man in black that I didn't get. He saw my sign and said he's currently risking 25-life trying to pay for school, through the illegal distribution of narcotics. He asked how long I play for, sharing that when he was on a $200-a-day habit he had to work 12-hour days to pay for it. Over the course of the evening (he stayed for a while) he said, "I have $5 that's yours if you can play the Godfather song." Hell yes. I played it, he paid up, and a man who had heard it across the street ran over to chip in. Old men requested it in Provincetown so I learned it, but I don't play it much. That will definitely change. The drug dealer had just watched all three Godfather movies that afternoon so he was into it. Later he offered me an additional $10 if I could play it again and he could record it on his iPhone. Deal. Despite my performance/recording/brain/hand block, I concentrated and played it exceptionally well for the camera. After this one another man ran over to compliment it. Okay, definitely in the starting rotation now. Each time the drug dealer gave me money he took a huge wad out of his pocket that had several hundred dollar bills on the outside. Careful, buddy. He eventually found something else to do for the evening.
2. Two guys walked by on their way home with a case of beer. They put two behind my box, which I enjoyed through the evening. Hey, it was still Friday night. It turns out they live upstairs from where I was playing, so they told me to play happy songs and that they'd be listening.
3. Later in the evening I thought I'd try out "My Heart Will Go On," which I haven't played in a while. Afterwards a guy in full chef garb gave me money and said, bashfully, "You got me!" Alright!
4. A band came by hoping my spot was empty. They took off when they saw it wasn't, but one guy hung around. He was wearing a frog hat, and we talked for a bit. He hung around while I played, and at times added percussion on a metal newspaper dispenser. It actually added a lot. I looked over again and this guy had somehow maneuvered himself into the traffic light. Cool.
5. I had a little crowd, and someone asked for "The Entertainer," which I limped through. Then a man in the crowd proposed Bach instead. I rattled out "Minuet 3" which was actually pretty easy (again, go motor memory. I played it on piano as a kid so my right hand already knew it, deep down in its joints). Classical accordion really is a different sound, and I could definitely fit more into my sets.
6. A drunk man asked if I could play something that sounded like "Casa Choke." He said that I have to play it, that everyone loves it. Negroes, he added, love it. Eek. Does that sound like a song that any of my faithful blog readers know? This guy's speech was quite slurred so who knows what he was saying.
7. I made a friend named Daniel who hung around for a while. While he was there a guy came over with a lot on his mind. He told us that no one gives a shit about the poor, do we think city hall cares about the homeless? You think you have a lot of friends, but when you're down on your luck and need a hand where are your friends? Nowhere to be found. But if you win the lottery you'll have more friends than ever before. America, he said, has turned into a monster. Except he pronounced it "muenster," and it was hard not to giggle through this serious soliloquy. Mmmm muenster.
8. A homeless-appearing woman came up and nicely told me that she wanted to buy a one-dollar beer. Too bad I had already opened my second one, or else I would have given it to her! I gave her a dollar from my box. She came back a few minutes later and said there was sales tax, could I throw in a quarter? I told her to go ahead and grab one. She said, "Oh no, I don't want to touch your money!" so I fished one out. She introduced herself with a long, multi-syllabic, beautiful name that included "angelinica" among a few other syllables, I think, listened to a song, and gave me a hug.
9. A pair of folks my age stopped to listen while I was playing "My Funny Valentine" for like the second time ever, and totally screwing it up. Bad omen for their relationship? I quickly switched to "Love me Tender," which I'm a little more on top of, then the guy asked if he could try my accordion. I let him, happy to take the weight off my shoulders for a few minutes. He balanced it on his knee (the straps were very tight on him) and rocked out an amazing zydeco performance. I'm used to hooligans wanting to try it, and never expect them to actually be accordion players. It turns out he plays in a Zydeco band. I definitely want to go hear them play.
10. Twice I was asked to play Beer Barrel Polka. I love playing it; it has such great energy and is actually quite complicated. The second time the gymnast-man drummed along. Always fun.
11. An old man walked by so I quit playing Lady Gaga in favor of "Lady of Spain," usually the favorite among the older crowd. He stopped and said, "Oh, no! ANYTHING but Lady of Spain!" Oh snap.
12. A guy stood next to me and sang along with "Beyond the Sea." Loved that.
Alas, I can't remember anything else now, although I know there was more to tell. Oh, I got condoms in my box for the first time, as well as a CD and a necklace.
I guess I might as well write about this morning quickly, before I forget:
Saturday
I headed out this morning in full valentine's day garb (heart socks my mom gave me a few years ago, a pink skirt, red earrings, and a headband with two pink pipe-cleaner hearts. My plan was to play at 24th and Sanchez, by the Noe Valley Farmer's Market again, but a saxophone player beat me to it. I found a spot half a block west outside of the former Real Food store that was closed.
Played for a bit, some more people took babysitting flyers. A little girl named Annabelle and her dad stopped, and requested some fine kids' tunes. A man with a mustache waxed to curl, without quite curling, recognized "Hernando's Hideaway" and told me about how controversial Tango was at first. He recommended going to Argentina. They he started singing Lady of Spain so I picked it up and he sang along for the whole thing.
Lots of cute kids. At writing capacity, can't remember more.
Going to this concert tonight! Go accordions!
I will preface this by saying that I was really down on busking last week. I had a negative interaction with a fellow street musician and I wonder if that affected me more than I acknowledged, because I really didn't feel like playing. Weekdays are hard anyway. I was just really sick of my songs, of my bungee cords, of smiling nonstop. Sick of being alone while looking for spots, playing, and going home. I was having doubts about my current occupation for the first time, and wondering where I could go from here. I know I'm not good enough at the accordion to seek or accept gigs, but if I keep playing just well enough to make money on the streets I'm going to get bored, I reckon. I can attribute a couple of things to these negative feelings. One was staying up late watching youtube videos of George Watsky, San Francisco-born slam poet and good friend of my friends Jackson, Jenna, and Kush. Youtube him.
He is a perfect model of what to do with one's talent. He started performing in SF as a teen (my friends have heard of him and seen him perform!), went to college for it, has performed all over the country, and has been on Ellen (my overarching goal). He has merchandise. It's not that I resent him for his success, but quite the opposite. I am a huge fan of his, but realize that I'm SO not there yet. What we have in common is the initiative: to maintain an active youtube channel, to record our work, to make t-shirts, to travel the world doing our craft, etc. What he has that I don't is virtuosity. Now, I'm content just being a street musician, nothing more, which doesn't require virtuosity. But there is so much pressure to take it to the next level and get gigs and play for an audience. The idea of an audience for my accordion playing scares me (although I love it for singing and stuff), because my brain has to be involved. One of my favorite things to talk about is motor memory, which fascinates me. I used to think hard about my songs and be amazed when my hand got there before my brain. Now, though, I count on it. When I learn hard songs, I know there's no point in my brain memorizing it because my hands will. "Beyond the Sea" is a classic example: it's one of my prettier songs because it has a complicated right hand. I just played it over and over until my right hand knew it. The same goes for my new Jackson 5 song: I bought sheet music with a complicated right hand, I can play it when I look at the music, but I'm just waiting for my right hand to get it so I can play it on the street. Anyway, this is relevant because on the streets, my hands do the playing, and my brain does the street stuff: remembering to smile, acknowledging and thanking patrons and passersby, noticing drivers who roll down their windows, walkers who pause their iPods, etc. My brain's in charge of stereotyping the groups that will soon be walking by so I can choose between "Lady of Spain," "Lady Gaga," and "Old MacDonald Had A Farm." Half the time I don't know what song I'm playing. In a concert/audience setting, my brain wouldn't have the stuff it's used to, so it would no doubt try to backseat drive my hands and screw everything up. Once I start thinking about a song I get off and once I'm off I usually can't get back on. (Is this why people drink before performing?) The music is more important in a concert setting, as people hear the entire songs. I'm used to most people hearing a five-second snippet, so I can abort a song if I don't actually want to play it, skip verses, add verses, or meld into a new song. This is why the idea of gigs doesn't appeal to me. Since I'm not striving for gigs, people wonder why I play. I got to wondering this myself this week, wondering why I'm planning a tour, why I don't be obnoxious and go to tourist areas and get in people's faces.
But last night I did my thing and it was really uplifting. People told me that it's really brave what I'm doing, and that they wished they could quit their jobs and do what I'm doing. Although I hear that a lot, it really stays with me each time. I do need reminding of that. Last night I was truly proud of what I do again, and was able to assess my work outside of a concert-track. My "playing back student loans" sign was a hit last night, with folks telling me they're also working on theirs, or they just finished theirs, or that they're just waiting for the system to crash (one guy. Wouldn't that be nice?) I just put the sign up to make more money, but I got to thinking about the true meaning of it while my hands went off on "Don't Stop Me Now" (HA, I picked a random song but that's probably the best one I could have chosen for this post). I play to make money (among other reasons), but I don't think about what I do with that money. I just put it in my bank account, and my student loans come out of that account. However, it's much more uplifting to think that those specific wadded up dollars and sticky nickels are the ones going to the DOE in a reused manila envelope to pay off my loans. I make more than enough a month just playing to pay these, which means I could actually make enough busking in the next ten years so that every cent of my loans is paid just through music. That in it's own would give my busking purpose.
Alternatively, I have dreams of writing my memoir. (Check out Dreamtime Alice. It's a memoir of a young female busker that I read over Christmas, and it's quite inspirational both for busking and writing.) What will make my memoir a best-seller one day (aw, shucks!) is the crazy stuff that happens on the streets, playing songs badly, perhaps. A book about a group of people sitting quietly and still while I play would not be that interesting. Thus, if nothing else, I am busking to gather material for my book. I'm not trying to make it to the Hall of Fame of accordion players, just the Hall of Fame of buskers. As long as I keep upgrading my act in tangible ways (such as adding ankle percussion and continuing to learn new songs), I will get there.
Lastly, before we get to the fun stuff, I've also been feeling lonely while I play. I've met so many cool little jug bands who perform, and I envy the dynamic they must have. There are so many decisions to be made each day at work: when to play, where to play, what song to start with, when to stop for pizza, whether certain songs are working, etc., and decisions are more fun to make with other people. On the days when no one is stopping to talk (/drunkenly ramble about god knows what), I don't utter a word besides "thanks." I choose to play alone because I don't have to share the money that way (and maybe I don't want to share the fame either?), but I am now open to the opportunity of playing with other musicians, even putting together a band. Okay that's enough philosophizing for one post, on to the crazy shit that happened last night!
Friday, February 11
I chose to try playing on Valencia St. in the Mission district last night instead of in my usual Friday night spot of the Castro. Valencia St. is a bustle of coffee shops, restaurants, bookstores, vintage clothes stores, and bars, so it is obviously the most fun street in the city. I've seen buskers there on accosion (Wow. Ever since I started writing the word "accordion" frequently I can no longer write the word "according." Apparently the word "occasion" has been erased as well.) I've seen buskers there on occasion, but haven't tried yet. I'm worried about not getting a spot in the Castro on Valentine's Day night, since there are many buskers and few spots, so I wanted to try out another spot to maybe play at that night. Also I don't want to run into the douche busker. I set up on the corner of 16th St. and Valencia and played from about 7:00-10:00 pm. It was very busy, and, best of all, people actually stopped to listen. They stayed for entire songs, sometimes even multiple. That was refreshing.
1. Although out of order, I will start with...THE DRUG DEALER!! A big guy dressed all in black came up just blatantly holding his bubbler, reeking of weed. He had a big gun tattooed on his arm, and a gun necklace. He gave me $2 and made a joke about a man in black that I didn't get. He saw my sign and said he's currently risking 25-life trying to pay for school, through the illegal distribution of narcotics. He asked how long I play for, sharing that when he was on a $200-a-day habit he had to work 12-hour days to pay for it. Over the course of the evening (he stayed for a while) he said, "I have $5 that's yours if you can play the Godfather song." Hell yes. I played it, he paid up, and a man who had heard it across the street ran over to chip in. Old men requested it in Provincetown so I learned it, but I don't play it much. That will definitely change. The drug dealer had just watched all three Godfather movies that afternoon so he was into it. Later he offered me an additional $10 if I could play it again and he could record it on his iPhone. Deal. Despite my performance/recording/brain/hand block, I concentrated and played it exceptionally well for the camera. After this one another man ran over to compliment it. Okay, definitely in the starting rotation now. Each time the drug dealer gave me money he took a huge wad out of his pocket that had several hundred dollar bills on the outside. Careful, buddy. He eventually found something else to do for the evening.
2. Two guys walked by on their way home with a case of beer. They put two behind my box, which I enjoyed through the evening. Hey, it was still Friday night. It turns out they live upstairs from where I was playing, so they told me to play happy songs and that they'd be listening.
3. Later in the evening I thought I'd try out "My Heart Will Go On," which I haven't played in a while. Afterwards a guy in full chef garb gave me money and said, bashfully, "You got me!" Alright!
4. A band came by hoping my spot was empty. They took off when they saw it wasn't, but one guy hung around. He was wearing a frog hat, and we talked for a bit. He hung around while I played, and at times added percussion on a metal newspaper dispenser. It actually added a lot. I looked over again and this guy had somehow maneuvered himself into the traffic light. Cool.
5. I had a little crowd, and someone asked for "The Entertainer," which I limped through. Then a man in the crowd proposed Bach instead. I rattled out "Minuet 3" which was actually pretty easy (again, go motor memory. I played it on piano as a kid so my right hand already knew it, deep down in its joints). Classical accordion really is a different sound, and I could definitely fit more into my sets.
6. A drunk man asked if I could play something that sounded like "Casa Choke." He said that I have to play it, that everyone loves it. Negroes, he added, love it. Eek. Does that sound like a song that any of my faithful blog readers know? This guy's speech was quite slurred so who knows what he was saying.
7. I made a friend named Daniel who hung around for a while. While he was there a guy came over with a lot on his mind. He told us that no one gives a shit about the poor, do we think city hall cares about the homeless? You think you have a lot of friends, but when you're down on your luck and need a hand where are your friends? Nowhere to be found. But if you win the lottery you'll have more friends than ever before. America, he said, has turned into a monster. Except he pronounced it "muenster," and it was hard not to giggle through this serious soliloquy. Mmmm muenster.
8. A homeless-appearing woman came up and nicely told me that she wanted to buy a one-dollar beer. Too bad I had already opened my second one, or else I would have given it to her! I gave her a dollar from my box. She came back a few minutes later and said there was sales tax, could I throw in a quarter? I told her to go ahead and grab one. She said, "Oh no, I don't want to touch your money!" so I fished one out. She introduced herself with a long, multi-syllabic, beautiful name that included "angelinica" among a few other syllables, I think, listened to a song, and gave me a hug.
9. A pair of folks my age stopped to listen while I was playing "My Funny Valentine" for like the second time ever, and totally screwing it up. Bad omen for their relationship? I quickly switched to "Love me Tender," which I'm a little more on top of, then the guy asked if he could try my accordion. I let him, happy to take the weight off my shoulders for a few minutes. He balanced it on his knee (the straps were very tight on him) and rocked out an amazing zydeco performance. I'm used to hooligans wanting to try it, and never expect them to actually be accordion players. It turns out he plays in a Zydeco band. I definitely want to go hear them play.
10. Twice I was asked to play Beer Barrel Polka. I love playing it; it has such great energy and is actually quite complicated. The second time the gymnast-man drummed along. Always fun.
11. An old man walked by so I quit playing Lady Gaga in favor of "Lady of Spain," usually the favorite among the older crowd. He stopped and said, "Oh, no! ANYTHING but Lady of Spain!" Oh snap.
12. A guy stood next to me and sang along with "Beyond the Sea." Loved that.
Alas, I can't remember anything else now, although I know there was more to tell. Oh, I got condoms in my box for the first time, as well as a CD and a necklace.
I guess I might as well write about this morning quickly, before I forget:
Saturday
I headed out this morning in full valentine's day garb (heart socks my mom gave me a few years ago, a pink skirt, red earrings, and a headband with two pink pipe-cleaner hearts. My plan was to play at 24th and Sanchez, by the Noe Valley Farmer's Market again, but a saxophone player beat me to it. I found a spot half a block west outside of the former Real Food store that was closed.
Played for a bit, some more people took babysitting flyers. A little girl named Annabelle and her dad stopped, and requested some fine kids' tunes. A man with a mustache waxed to curl, without quite curling, recognized "Hernando's Hideaway" and told me about how controversial Tango was at first. He recommended going to Argentina. They he started singing Lady of Spain so I picked it up and he sang along for the whole thing.
Lots of cute kids. At writing capacity, can't remember more.
Going to this concert tonight! Go accordions!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Summer?
So it's been difficult to drag myself out of the gorgeous warm sunny air to write, but it had to happen sometime. I am really not in a writing mood, so I imagine this post will be littered with typos. I'll go back and fix them some other time.
From now on (and maybe I'll go back and edit old posts), my posts will be split into three sections: stuff that happens while playing, creative updates (new songs and such), and personal updates.
I. At Work
Friday
Friday was a really good night. Lots of crazy stuff happened, and I made good money. I went out at 6:00 pm and I was shocked to get my spot. As I learned later from Matteo, he and his friends had just left when I arrived. Aha. Let the retelling commence!
1. I played for the best kids ever. Two little boys and their dad stopped to listen. The younger boy (good thing the other one called him his brother rather than sister, as I did not come to that conclusion) had adorable crazy blond hair and wore rainbow striped leggings. I asked what songs they like, and the dad suggested "Take Me Out to the Ball Game," a favorite. The kids contributed the next selections. I braced myself for the usual "Wheels on the Bus" or Justin Bieber. Instead, the kids asked for "Rocky Raccoon" and "The Big Rock Candy Mountain." Although the former was really hard to figure out, the kids danced around. I was truly pleased that these are the songs they know and love. It gives a nod to good parenting, for sure. I hope I see them again.
2. A guy named Oboe on a bike invited me to play with his Irish rock band on St. Patrik's day. Score!
3. A crazy guy asked me "Colorado?" I replied, "No." He went on about Colorado, and Kofax. Who knows what that was about.
4. I run into a lot of street solicitors, for the Sierra Club, Red Cross, etc. There was a guy working for ACLU on the same block this night. We conversed, and he said something about my job being more fun than his. I suggested he wear a funny hat. He responded, seriously, "The problem with that is that I never know where I'll be assigned. A funny hat would go over well in the Castro, but if I wear one in the Mission..." [thinks of a consequence] "...I'll get shot." Damn, tough crowd.
5. I mentioned I'm playing some songs by the band Beirut. Someone recognized one! I always like when new songs get recognized. He said that people in the Castro aren't artsy enough to recognize Beirut, that I'd have better luck with it in the Haight. The guy he was with reminded me that he was the one who, the previous time I played, said "I hate the accordion but I like your music." Quite the compliment!
6. Next in my notes it says something that looks, in my messy handwriting, like "leg feele off." I wonder what that can mean. I don't recall any of my legs falling off.
7. I had a nice conversation with a middle-aged Down's Syndrome afflicted woman. Her condition wasn't obvious at first, and she stopped to listen and said she has a German accordion at home. I've waited too long writing to remember the details, but she showed me her recent dollar store purchases, the most exciting of which was a yellow power ranger. We agreed that she's a smart shopper. This would be a more interesting tidbit if I remembered the conversation.
8. Oh yeah! My accordion leg fell off, and by leg I mean foot. There are four little rubber feet on the bottom, and one of them has been loose. I felt the spot, and found it missing. I couldn't find it on the sidewalk so I was sad. But luckily it fell off in the box on the walk up, so it is now securely fastened.
9. At this point in the evening, I really wanted pizza. I had come out at 6:00 with no food, which was a poor choice, because I was hungry. I suppose I took receiving pizza for granted after my victory the previous time playing, but it hadn't happened yet and I was sending hardcore vibes to everyone who walked by. A crowd of guys assembled in front of me to discuss their plans for the evening. I loudly suggested, "Why don't you go get pizza and bring me a slice?" [I tried to channel Pee-Wee when he, trying to blend in with a group of hell's angels, suggests, "I think we should let him go!" when members of the aforementioned group are discussing ways to kill him.] My suggestion was more successful than Pee-Wee's, but did not achieve my goal. The captain of this group said, "I'll give you money just for that suggestion!" and put a dollar in my box and corralled the group to a bar. Okay, good, but still not pizza.
10. As luck would have it, my vibe-sending proved successful. A man had just come from his pizza dinner with leftovers, which he gave me. This was wonderful news, not only was I famished but I was cold. Pizza is nice and hot. I didn't bother sneaking bites between songs like last time, but took my accordion off and sat down to enjoy it. Mmm. NOW I can take pizza for granted, since it's happened twice.
11. A man asked if I play any country/western songs. I told him I didn't. He said there's a bar that hosts a country/western open mic the first Wednesday night of every month. He assured me that a month is plenty of time to learn a song for it. Good to know.
12. Street musicians are a strange group. This guy with an out of control unibrow (which made his furrowed brow all the scarier) came up and asked if his friend could have my spot. I said I was going to quit around nine. He informed me that his friend wanted it now. I said "Well maybe I'll stop sooner." A few minutes later he came back with his friend. His friend, as it turns out, is Lily Holbrook, a total busking pro (www.lilyholbrook.com). She has CDs and gigs and equipment and everything. I was surprised that her technique for getting spots was sending a not very charming representative to get exasperated at people, since a pro should know that it's advantageous to be on the best possible terms with one's fellow street musicians. Basically the guy said, "Okay she's ready." I said, "Okay, I'm going to keep playing a bit." He got mad and said, "Well you said she could have it, we wouldn't have gotten to get her stuff otherwise!" What I should have said in response, as I realized later, was "That's why you should never trust a gypsy." Using a line like that informs people that it'll be useless to try to negotiate with you, and you'll thus get away with anything. But you can only use this line if you have a gypsy box and a gypsy sign. Preferably a cat or iguana as well. Lily herself piped up, the pro that she is, saying, "No worries, I'll wait!" It's unclear what role the friend has, since he seems to cause more trouble that is worth. I guess he's just her pack boy. Anyway, Lily knows her stuff and I should keep my gypsy trickery to a minimum with her if I want to get anywhere in this city.
Saturday
On Saturday I finally went through with my plan to play at the Noe Valley farmer's market. In addition to playing for the market crowd, I planned to pass out babysitting mini flyers, since it's a happening place for families, and babysitting in my neighborhood would be nice. I went first to the market itself where there's a bandstand set up, to see if anyone was playing. Lily, the woman from the night before, was actually due to come on soon. The woman asked if I wanted to be on the official performer's schedule, but I declined. Audiences don't appeal to me yet (in my busking life, that is). Instead, I set up a few blocks away on a corner outside a Real Estate office. I expected them to come out and ask me to move, and I planned a gypsy lie involving having been told that past the red markings on the curb was public property. Luckily this wasn't necessary, as the one time the real estate folks came out it was to compliment me. Cool! I stayed there for two hours, during which I had a steady stream of people, mostly pushing strollers. It went perfectly; I made really good money and went home with about six fewer flyers as I had come with. One woman handed it to her son, who looked at the picture I had included on it (me in my elf costume). I told him that I'm an elf sometimes. His mom asked him if he'd like if I watched him sometime. He just looked at me and announced, "You're silly." I take that as a yes. Hope they call!
1. A little boy named Carmelo came up in his dad's arms for a listen. He asked me to play Happy Birthday since his birthday is next week. He'll be two. Cute!
2. Carmelo overlapped with Zali, a 16-month old. His mom suggested Baby Beluga, which Zali and Carmelo both got into. I had forgotten about that song, and I definitely have to put it on the top of the kids songs list. Zali stayed for a long time. Sometimes he'd say "bye-bye" so he and his mom would leave, then he would do the sign language sign for more, so back they'd come. He danced a bit. Unfortunately they didn't take a babysitting flyer. Maybe because I had used the wrong gender pronoun in asking Zali's age. We really need a gender neutral one.
3. A woman named Linda asked if I teach. I might have another student on my hands!
4. I'm not used to playing this early in the day, and in an environment with so many kids (recently, that is). I omitted many songs from my set list (including the Lady Gaga medley, thank God), and played others more often than usual (such as the Wallace and Gromit theme song). As luck would have it, a man recognized it and rushed over to acknowledge it. He brought with him his son Pablo who had just bought a toy harmonica at a tag sale. Pablo played a song with me. Suuuuuper cute. I wish I had a photo of it.
5. A group of kids with their Grandma lamented that they only had a $20, so I gave them permission to take change from my box. While the younger kids counted out singles, an older (maybe 11-year-old) boy saw my student loans sign and asked me what I studied. I loved this, this is an age group that doesn't usually react to my act, so not only stopping but asking me such a grown up question made me happy. I told him, "I studied Psychology!" and he nodded. Maybe he will too, now.
6. I met Athena the parrot! A few weeks ago I saw a woman writing a moped up a hill with a beautiful parrot on her shoulder. They were on the sidewalk when I was walking home. Apparently Athena loves the moped but gets scared of wheelchairs and strollers and such, and my box on wheels fit this category so his mom had to comfort him. I stopped to talk to them and see Athena up close. She's so beautiful, mostly blue. Apparently her owner got her here, she was hatched locally. Finding a parrot in her suitcase after a trip to the Amazon would have been fun, but I guess that makes more sense. Now I know they live nearby so I can see them every day! Maybe Athena will sing with me some days.
That's all for updates!
I'll save the creative and personal sections for next time, I'm sick of writing.
From now on (and maybe I'll go back and edit old posts), my posts will be split into three sections: stuff that happens while playing, creative updates (new songs and such), and personal updates.
I. At Work
Friday
Friday was a really good night. Lots of crazy stuff happened, and I made good money. I went out at 6:00 pm and I was shocked to get my spot. As I learned later from Matteo, he and his friends had just left when I arrived. Aha. Let the retelling commence!
1. I played for the best kids ever. Two little boys and their dad stopped to listen. The younger boy (good thing the other one called him his brother rather than sister, as I did not come to that conclusion) had adorable crazy blond hair and wore rainbow striped leggings. I asked what songs they like, and the dad suggested "Take Me Out to the Ball Game," a favorite. The kids contributed the next selections. I braced myself for the usual "Wheels on the Bus" or Justin Bieber. Instead, the kids asked for "Rocky Raccoon" and "The Big Rock Candy Mountain." Although the former was really hard to figure out, the kids danced around. I was truly pleased that these are the songs they know and love. It gives a nod to good parenting, for sure. I hope I see them again.
2. A guy named Oboe on a bike invited me to play with his Irish rock band on St. Patrik's day. Score!
3. A crazy guy asked me "Colorado?" I replied, "No." He went on about Colorado, and Kofax. Who knows what that was about.
4. I run into a lot of street solicitors, for the Sierra Club, Red Cross, etc. There was a guy working for ACLU on the same block this night. We conversed, and he said something about my job being more fun than his. I suggested he wear a funny hat. He responded, seriously, "The problem with that is that I never know where I'll be assigned. A funny hat would go over well in the Castro, but if I wear one in the Mission..." [thinks of a consequence] "...I'll get shot." Damn, tough crowd.
5. I mentioned I'm playing some songs by the band Beirut. Someone recognized one! I always like when new songs get recognized. He said that people in the Castro aren't artsy enough to recognize Beirut, that I'd have better luck with it in the Haight. The guy he was with reminded me that he was the one who, the previous time I played, said "I hate the accordion but I like your music." Quite the compliment!
6. Next in my notes it says something that looks, in my messy handwriting, like "leg feele off." I wonder what that can mean. I don't recall any of my legs falling off.
7. I had a nice conversation with a middle-aged Down's Syndrome afflicted woman. Her condition wasn't obvious at first, and she stopped to listen and said she has a German accordion at home. I've waited too long writing to remember the details, but she showed me her recent dollar store purchases, the most exciting of which was a yellow power ranger. We agreed that she's a smart shopper. This would be a more interesting tidbit if I remembered the conversation.
8. Oh yeah! My accordion leg fell off, and by leg I mean foot. There are four little rubber feet on the bottom, and one of them has been loose. I felt the spot, and found it missing. I couldn't find it on the sidewalk so I was sad. But luckily it fell off in the box on the walk up, so it is now securely fastened.
9. At this point in the evening, I really wanted pizza. I had come out at 6:00 with no food, which was a poor choice, because I was hungry. I suppose I took receiving pizza for granted after my victory the previous time playing, but it hadn't happened yet and I was sending hardcore vibes to everyone who walked by. A crowd of guys assembled in front of me to discuss their plans for the evening. I loudly suggested, "Why don't you go get pizza and bring me a slice?" [I tried to channel Pee-Wee when he, trying to blend in with a group of hell's angels, suggests, "I think we should let him go!" when members of the aforementioned group are discussing ways to kill him.] My suggestion was more successful than Pee-Wee's, but did not achieve my goal. The captain of this group said, "I'll give you money just for that suggestion!" and put a dollar in my box and corralled the group to a bar. Okay, good, but still not pizza.
10. As luck would have it, my vibe-sending proved successful. A man had just come from his pizza dinner with leftovers, which he gave me. This was wonderful news, not only was I famished but I was cold. Pizza is nice and hot. I didn't bother sneaking bites between songs like last time, but took my accordion off and sat down to enjoy it. Mmm. NOW I can take pizza for granted, since it's happened twice.
11. A man asked if I play any country/western songs. I told him I didn't. He said there's a bar that hosts a country/western open mic the first Wednesday night of every month. He assured me that a month is plenty of time to learn a song for it. Good to know.
12. Street musicians are a strange group. This guy with an out of control unibrow (which made his furrowed brow all the scarier) came up and asked if his friend could have my spot. I said I was going to quit around nine. He informed me that his friend wanted it now. I said "Well maybe I'll stop sooner." A few minutes later he came back with his friend. His friend, as it turns out, is Lily Holbrook, a total busking pro (www.lilyholbrook.com). She has CDs and gigs and equipment and everything. I was surprised that her technique for getting spots was sending a not very charming representative to get exasperated at people, since a pro should know that it's advantageous to be on the best possible terms with one's fellow street musicians. Basically the guy said, "Okay she's ready." I said, "Okay, I'm going to keep playing a bit." He got mad and said, "Well you said she could have it, we wouldn't have gotten to get her stuff otherwise!" What I should have said in response, as I realized later, was "That's why you should never trust a gypsy." Using a line like that informs people that it'll be useless to try to negotiate with you, and you'll thus get away with anything. But you can only use this line if you have a gypsy box and a gypsy sign. Preferably a cat or iguana as well. Lily herself piped up, the pro that she is, saying, "No worries, I'll wait!" It's unclear what role the friend has, since he seems to cause more trouble that is worth. I guess he's just her pack boy. Anyway, Lily knows her stuff and I should keep my gypsy trickery to a minimum with her if I want to get anywhere in this city.
Saturday
On Saturday I finally went through with my plan to play at the Noe Valley farmer's market. In addition to playing for the market crowd, I planned to pass out babysitting mini flyers, since it's a happening place for families, and babysitting in my neighborhood would be nice. I went first to the market itself where there's a bandstand set up, to see if anyone was playing. Lily, the woman from the night before, was actually due to come on soon. The woman asked if I wanted to be on the official performer's schedule, but I declined. Audiences don't appeal to me yet (in my busking life, that is). Instead, I set up a few blocks away on a corner outside a Real Estate office. I expected them to come out and ask me to move, and I planned a gypsy lie involving having been told that past the red markings on the curb was public property. Luckily this wasn't necessary, as the one time the real estate folks came out it was to compliment me. Cool! I stayed there for two hours, during which I had a steady stream of people, mostly pushing strollers. It went perfectly; I made really good money and went home with about six fewer flyers as I had come with. One woman handed it to her son, who looked at the picture I had included on it (me in my elf costume). I told him that I'm an elf sometimes. His mom asked him if he'd like if I watched him sometime. He just looked at me and announced, "You're silly." I take that as a yes. Hope they call!
1. A little boy named Carmelo came up in his dad's arms for a listen. He asked me to play Happy Birthday since his birthday is next week. He'll be two. Cute!
2. Carmelo overlapped with Zali, a 16-month old. His mom suggested Baby Beluga, which Zali and Carmelo both got into. I had forgotten about that song, and I definitely have to put it on the top of the kids songs list. Zali stayed for a long time. Sometimes he'd say "bye-bye" so he and his mom would leave, then he would do the sign language sign for more, so back they'd come. He danced a bit. Unfortunately they didn't take a babysitting flyer. Maybe because I had used the wrong gender pronoun in asking Zali's age. We really need a gender neutral one.
3. A woman named Linda asked if I teach. I might have another student on my hands!
4. I'm not used to playing this early in the day, and in an environment with so many kids (recently, that is). I omitted many songs from my set list (including the Lady Gaga medley, thank God), and played others more often than usual (such as the Wallace and Gromit theme song). As luck would have it, a man recognized it and rushed over to acknowledge it. He brought with him his son Pablo who had just bought a toy harmonica at a tag sale. Pablo played a song with me. Suuuuuper cute. I wish I had a photo of it.
5. A group of kids with their Grandma lamented that they only had a $20, so I gave them permission to take change from my box. While the younger kids counted out singles, an older (maybe 11-year-old) boy saw my student loans sign and asked me what I studied. I loved this, this is an age group that doesn't usually react to my act, so not only stopping but asking me such a grown up question made me happy. I told him, "I studied Psychology!" and he nodded. Maybe he will too, now.
6. I met Athena the parrot! A few weeks ago I saw a woman writing a moped up a hill with a beautiful parrot on her shoulder. They were on the sidewalk when I was walking home. Apparently Athena loves the moped but gets scared of wheelchairs and strollers and such, and my box on wheels fit this category so his mom had to comfort him. I stopped to talk to them and see Athena up close. She's so beautiful, mostly blue. Apparently her owner got her here, she was hatched locally. Finding a parrot in her suitcase after a trip to the Amazon would have been fun, but I guess that makes more sense. Now I know they live nearby so I can see them every day! Maybe Athena will sing with me some days.
That's all for updates!
I'll save the creative and personal sections for next time, I'm sick of writing.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Quick Personal Update
The non-musical news is that I have...wait for it...friends!!!! My friend Emma with whom I went to Clark and Sevilla is a San Francisco native, so it's been great to hang out with her. Unfortunately she's gone (trip to Taiwan the moving to Boston--Go Emma!) but before she left she introduced me to some of her high school friends. They are wicked cool and I proudly call them my friends now. I've mainly been hanging out with Marissa and Dani. They both live nearby, which is nice, and with them I've done an array of activities from going to bars to eating burritos to trying out for Matt Damon movies. (There was a casting call for a Steven Soderbergh film with Matt Damon that we attended but arrived at too late, probably.) Oh and Marissa has a cat :) I like to believe that my new friendships are relevant to Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox because they really have boosted my morale. Previously I spent the evenings (/every other time of day) home alone, but now I don't! (Cue "What I've Been Looking For" from "High School Musical") (jk).
Also, I'm planning a journey home. I am definitely going to Mexico to find sheet music for "Morir Soñando" (oh and also to visit my BFF Sasha) so I figured I'd go home after, and pad both sides of the journey. I'm thinking:
1. LA (Jackson et al)
2. San Diego (cousin Silas)
3. Flagstaff, AZ (cousin Gideon)
4. Santa Fe (Nora)
Mexico
5. Chapel Hill, NC (Steph)
6. Wilmington, NC (Emily from Wellfleet)
7. DC (Tito)
8. Philadelphia (Never been)
9. New York (Lesley and Mary)
10. Boston (elf roots)
11. Worcester (friends)
12. Leverett, MA
The purpose of this trip would be to see new parts of the United States, see friends/family, and go on a busking tour! I'm researching busking in these places, and I'm open to suggestions for other places! I will be shipping a big box of stuff home and traveling with just my awesome backpacking backpack and my squeezebox.
I'm also figuring out what to do in Mexico, since Liz and Steph who are coming to see Sasha with me have to go back to their jobs after a week, but I want to stay longer. I want to see more of Mexico (maybe Oaxaca to see Jake, etc.) and go to Guatemala. The problem is that I don't have travel buddies. Hopefully Sasha can get work off.
Time to go home and practice "I Want You Back" more!
Also, I'm planning a journey home. I am definitely going to Mexico to find sheet music for "Morir Soñando" (oh and also to visit my BFF Sasha) so I figured I'd go home after, and pad both sides of the journey. I'm thinking:
1. LA (Jackson et al)
2. San Diego (cousin Silas)
3. Flagstaff, AZ (cousin Gideon)
4. Santa Fe (Nora)
Mexico
5. Chapel Hill, NC (Steph)
6. Wilmington, NC (Emily from Wellfleet)
7. DC (Tito)
8. Philadelphia (Never been)
9. New York (Lesley and Mary)
10. Boston (elf roots)
11. Worcester (friends)
12. Leverett, MA
The purpose of this trip would be to see new parts of the United States, see friends/family, and go on a busking tour! I'm researching busking in these places, and I'm open to suggestions for other places! I will be shipping a big box of stuff home and traveling with just my awesome backpacking backpack and my squeezebox.
I'm also figuring out what to do in Mexico, since Liz and Steph who are coming to see Sasha with me have to go back to their jobs after a week, but I want to stay longer. I want to see more of Mexico (maybe Oaxaca to see Jake, etc.) and go to Guatemala. The problem is that I don't have travel buddies. Hopefully Sasha can get work off.
Time to go home and practice "I Want You Back" more!
The Latest
Lots of catching up to do! I played Friday night, got rained out the whole weekend, then played Tuesday and Wednesday. There aren't any hilarious/inspirational/etc. tales to share, but I'll write about these days anyway.
Friday
As luck would have it, I got "my spot" (forever on this means 18th and Castro). As I'm walking down the block I can't tell if it's open until I'm upon it, and when it's taken what usually gives my competition's presence away is a guitar neck. I have thus come to resent guitar necks. Sorry.
Why I should learn French:
A man came up and starting speaking French. I delivered my best "Je ne parlais pas la frances." He spoke more French. "Je voudre parlar la frances." (I know "je voudre" from that time in Valence when I said "Je voudre Espagne.") More French. "Hablo español." "Ah! ¡Gracias por tu música!" "Gracias por escuchandola." Anyway, this reminded me that I simply must learn French. As an accordion player named Sophie everyone thinks I'm French.
Speaking of which:
Another man with a big handlebar mustache came up and asked if I was Polish. I said I wasn't, and he said something like "Well the Polish girls play big accordions at the bar! Polish girls with mustaches like mine." Eek!
Ha, really?:
This night was chilly. Like, lower 50s. People kept commenting on how I must be cold. One guy offered me his jacket. Another guy logically stated that, "If I'm cold, you MUST be cold!" People, I played when it was 25 degrees. This is nothing. Although I am glad I brought my Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox Not Yet Patented Mostly Grippy, Tight, and Warm Enough Accordion Gloves because my fingertips are still slowed down on chillier nights.
Joan's Recommendation:
I mentioned Joan (like Miró), another busker? Well he told me about being a backup busker at Ghiardelli Square. It's right next to Fisherman's Wharf and thus has ample tourists. You have to sign up for a permit and get scheduled and booked and stuff, but Joan's tight with the woman in charge and she calls him whenever a performer doesn't show up so he can play for free. I might just follow in his footsteps.
Other tidbits:
1. A guy requested Neil Young. What song should I learn?
2. I've been playing Morir Soñando (long boring paragraph about it to come), and I think some Mexicans (well maybe not Mexicans, but it's a Mexican song so it would make sense) recognized it!!
3. In this business I'm no longer surprised when I get lingering smiles or compliments that have nothing to do with my playing, but this one guy made me chuckle. He was stopped at the light and kept catching my eye and raising his eyebrows and making what I assumed he thought were seductive faces. When he finally put money in he gave me a big wink, which amused me because the wink was so unnecessary, I had gotten the message pretty clearly in the last forty seconds. Ah, fans.
Morir Soñando
I am very excited that "Morir Soñando" is now in the starting rotation. This is a song I heard done by Flaco Jimenez, and it's really beautiful. Your typical Mexican waltz. It's on my accordion pump-up playlist and I started transcribing it and learning it (I couldn't find music anywhere) last year. Since I only figured out the first forty seconds, I put off adding it to the set list so far. However, a week ago I realized that forty seconds is fine, that most people only stick around for five seconds, so I've been playing it. I love playing it, as it sounds impressive without being too hard. And I love playing in 3/4 time. I've even working on my bellows shake (accordion vibrato). I'm going to move "finish transcribing it" to the very top of my to-do list now.
Here it is, the link you've been waiting for: Hear the song
(the Flaco version didn't seem to exist on youtube, so I had to add it).
Saturday
Oh no! It rained on Saturday! I was going to play on 24th St. for the Noe Valley farmer's market crowd, and I had even made mini-fliers for babysitting. Too bad. More rain on Sunday.
Tuesday
Tuesday is Farmer's Market day at the Ferry Building, so I headed over there. I was disappointed to see that a group had gotten the good spot in the crosswalk, but they ended up being really cool. When I approached them they said, "Hey, you're the girl who plays the little red accordion!" They had walked by during the previous week's pro-choice rally when I was playing "Don't Stop Me Now," their favorite Queen song. This made me happy because this is my best (and hardest!) of my popular songs, and I looked forward to everyone in the world recognizing it when I started arranging it.
They are a trio that does klezmir sounding stuff on accordion (whoa!!), clarinet, and washboard. They sounded really good, and actually have some gigs booked. The first is on the 5th, so they had to think of a band name by then. It turns out that the two girls are from Rhode Island, and went to high school with my Clark friends Shane and Nader. Crazy! They surrendered their spot after about a half hour, since they had come into the city for free museum day. They live on the East Bay so whenever they come in they bring their gear to pay for their trip. Very cool. They still had to wait for friends, so they actually sat and listened to me for a bit, which I'm not used to. I kind of liked having an audience, especially since two of them got up and danced! They're playing a show in a couple weeks in the Mission, and I'm going to wrack my brain for the name of the bar and go see them.
Stuff that happened:
1. A man came up and told me that I need to play fast, like Mexicans! Noted.
2. I played for a big group of girls on a field trip. Unfortunately I don't really know how to please kids over age five. I asked if they had any favorite showtunes. They asked for Justin Bieber. Or Ke$ha (ugh part of my soul just died actually punching in the dollar sign). Finally we settled for Beyonce, and I did the least soulful version of "Single Ladies" you'll ever hear.
3. A one woman band walked by! She had a ringmaster type costume on, and held a steel guitar. On her back was a big drum. I forget what else. She certainly means business, it was a little unnerving.
4. Unfortunately, the Hot Dog Man wasn't there, so I could neither redeem his certificate for a hot dog nor go meet him. Oh well.
5. Remember the trick bikers/skateboarders who hang out in the crosswalk island and smoke weed? Well this time one skateboarder decided to jump over my box. All day. Pretty cool.
After playing, I met up with Anthony the sax player again. Our new song this week was "Stand by Me," and he proposed we take our show on the road down to the wharf. He says that we can't get busted if we keep moving. We walked along the Embarcadero toward the piers. I kept my accordion strapped on so we could play whenever. We discovered that we could play while walking, both of us playing with just our left hands while our right hands pulled our respective wheeled apparati. "Brown Eyed Girl" thus emerged.
This will be the last time that I play with Anthony on his turf, because I felt uncomfortable with his busking style. He keeps moving, and goes up to groups of people and asks (/pressures them) if they want to hear a song. They usually feel obligated to say yes, and then to tip him. In my opinion, it's moves like this that make many people dislike street musicians, and put them in the same category as panhandlers. I know that I am lucky to do better than most street musicians, due to my instrument of choice, sex, and age (and non-homeless appearance), and thus don't have to resort to this tactic.
However, I did learn from Anthony where exactly you need a permit on the wharf. I was going to avoid it completely due to its complicated application/scheduling procedure, but I might actually go in the surrounding area, because on weekdays during the day it's really the only place with enough foot traffic. This does mean taking the bus home that goes through Chinatown, which isn't the best place for a big wooden box as it knocks over the hundreds of ancient Chinese women with their entire bamboo plants that board at rush hour. Oops.
That's all for Tuesday! I was in the sun so I'm really freckly now.
Oh and I forgot to include that last Tuesday I saw a woman with a Wired Puppy t-shirt, a coffeeshop in Provincetown! Yeahhh!
Wednesday
Again, not too much to report. Yesterday was actually one of my worst days yet.
Reasons why it may have been bad:
1. I've been growing my hair so I can do two braids, and yesterday was the first day I did them. I was very excited about them, but I fear they may be bad luck.
2. I chose a bad time of day to play, 3:00-6:00 in the Castro. I thought that people would be getting off work and having tea/shopping or whatever, but it was too early. As I was packing up it was getting busier for dinner, so I learned the lesson that there's really no point in going before dinner time unless there's a daytime event.
3. I didn't have my spot all along. When I got there this cello player had it. I regret the fact that I haven't talked to him yet, I've seen him a few times and we're clearly in competition for the good spots, so I might as well charm him (or lie and say you need a permit for my spot. That'll get him!!!) Also someone needs to tell him to SMILE while he plays. And probably get a funny hat. Anyway, I went up a couple blocks to the Castro BART stop (aka the Harvey Milk Plaza) which was real bad. There's a stoplight which is good, but there's no bus traffic, and it was too early for a lot of BART commuters.
4. I was also just playing poorly. I had had a long practice session that morning, and usually I don't do both in the same day. My wrists weren't hurting or anything, but maybe my brain has an accordion limit (I know most people's souls do).
By the time I gave up and packed up, grumpy cello guy was gone, so I took over my spot. Location really does make a difference, in the brief time that I had my spot, I got three five dollar bills that prevented yesterday from being literally the least money-making day ever (one guy even flashed his five to make sure I saw it and knew how generous he was). Love those fives, they mean I make 400% more than I otherwise would in a given 20-second period (is that right math? Caffeine's wearing off).
Today's Tales:
1. A crazy guy was wandering around loudly pondering the fact that the dragons are going to take over the world. Excuse me, the fucking dragons.
2. I ran into one of Katina's friends that I had met at her party!
3. A guy with a wicked old camera loitered. It's from the '30s and looks really cool. He just got it and is figuring out. He'll send me pics if they come out, I'm excited about that.
4. Finally, finally, finally I got pizza. I was feeling really left out that every other busker in history has gotten pizza from a passerby. Aborto has, Cady the statue lady has, everyone but me. But wait! A guy with a huge red and black mohawk walked by with a pizza box. When I finished a song, he proffered me the opened box. No pizza has ever tasted sweeter. I bet cello guy didn't get any pizza. However this pizza high wore off when I realized that I had no plate or napkins. I sacrificed the recently printed "I Want You Back" sheet music (oops, spoiler alert!!) and continued playing until I could procure napkins. A teenager took a couple pictures so I asked if she had a napkin. She said she didn't. A few minutes later, she came back with a stack. Definitely the MVP of the day. I could eat pizza, and my accordion survived my greasy fingers.
5. On the way home, I ran into a guy who had walked by earlier. I'm pretty sure he was drunk. We had the strangest conversation ever:
Man: I know you! Christina!
Sophie: No, you saw me playing accordion a little while ago!
Man: Oh yeah. What do you do for a living?
Sophie: I play accordion on the streets.
Man: And you pay rent doing that?
Sophie: Well I'm not paying rent at the moment, but when I have to I do other work too.
Man: Like....work with energy?
Sophie: Sure.
Man: Or study teach?
Sophie: Closer.
Man: You know, my [something] is from Beijing and does acupuncture. You should take the L train and get off at the zoo, stop for a burrito if
you want, then go get acupuncture. If you do that it means you're a smart person.
Hm, I do want to be a smart person so maybe I'll do that. As long as I can also go to the zoo.
The very exciting news is that I'm learning the Jackson 5's "I Want You Back." I'm getting ready for a Valentine's Day that I hope is comparable to New Year's Eve, and I'm learning some new songs. I googled "classic love songs" and this was on the list. I have the intro down (as can be seen on my dad's facebook wall) but still have to practice a lot. I'm super pumped to have it in my repertoire.
Oh, I saw two Red Sox hats!!! Yayy! Boooo Giants!
That is all.
Friday
As luck would have it, I got "my spot" (forever on this means 18th and Castro). As I'm walking down the block I can't tell if it's open until I'm upon it, and when it's taken what usually gives my competition's presence away is a guitar neck. I have thus come to resent guitar necks. Sorry.
Why I should learn French:
A man came up and starting speaking French. I delivered my best "Je ne parlais pas la frances." He spoke more French. "Je voudre parlar la frances." (I know "je voudre" from that time in Valence when I said "Je voudre Espagne.") More French. "Hablo español." "Ah! ¡Gracias por tu música!" "Gracias por escuchandola." Anyway, this reminded me that I simply must learn French. As an accordion player named Sophie everyone thinks I'm French.
Speaking of which:
Another man with a big handlebar mustache came up and asked if I was Polish. I said I wasn't, and he said something like "Well the Polish girls play big accordions at the bar! Polish girls with mustaches like mine." Eek!
Ha, really?:
This night was chilly. Like, lower 50s. People kept commenting on how I must be cold. One guy offered me his jacket. Another guy logically stated that, "If I'm cold, you MUST be cold!" People, I played when it was 25 degrees. This is nothing. Although I am glad I brought my Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox Not Yet Patented Mostly Grippy, Tight, and Warm Enough Accordion Gloves because my fingertips are still slowed down on chillier nights.
Joan's Recommendation:
I mentioned Joan (like Miró), another busker? Well he told me about being a backup busker at Ghiardelli Square. It's right next to Fisherman's Wharf and thus has ample tourists. You have to sign up for a permit and get scheduled and booked and stuff, but Joan's tight with the woman in charge and she calls him whenever a performer doesn't show up so he can play for free. I might just follow in his footsteps.
Other tidbits:
1. A guy requested Neil Young. What song should I learn?
2. I've been playing Morir Soñando (long boring paragraph about it to come), and I think some Mexicans (well maybe not Mexicans, but it's a Mexican song so it would make sense) recognized it!!
3. In this business I'm no longer surprised when I get lingering smiles or compliments that have nothing to do with my playing, but this one guy made me chuckle. He was stopped at the light and kept catching my eye and raising his eyebrows and making what I assumed he thought were seductive faces. When he finally put money in he gave me a big wink, which amused me because the wink was so unnecessary, I had gotten the message pretty clearly in the last forty seconds. Ah, fans.
Morir Soñando
I am very excited that "Morir Soñando" is now in the starting rotation. This is a song I heard done by Flaco Jimenez, and it's really beautiful. Your typical Mexican waltz. It's on my accordion pump-up playlist and I started transcribing it and learning it (I couldn't find music anywhere) last year. Since I only figured out the first forty seconds, I put off adding it to the set list so far. However, a week ago I realized that forty seconds is fine, that most people only stick around for five seconds, so I've been playing it. I love playing it, as it sounds impressive without being too hard. And I love playing in 3/4 time. I've even working on my bellows shake (accordion vibrato). I'm going to move "finish transcribing it" to the very top of my to-do list now.
Here it is, the link you've been waiting for: Hear the song
(the Flaco version didn't seem to exist on youtube, so I had to add it).
Saturday
Oh no! It rained on Saturday! I was going to play on 24th St. for the Noe Valley farmer's market crowd, and I had even made mini-fliers for babysitting. Too bad. More rain on Sunday.
Tuesday
Tuesday is Farmer's Market day at the Ferry Building, so I headed over there. I was disappointed to see that a group had gotten the good spot in the crosswalk, but they ended up being really cool. When I approached them they said, "Hey, you're the girl who plays the little red accordion!" They had walked by during the previous week's pro-choice rally when I was playing "Don't Stop Me Now," their favorite Queen song. This made me happy because this is my best (and hardest!) of my popular songs, and I looked forward to everyone in the world recognizing it when I started arranging it.
They are a trio that does klezmir sounding stuff on accordion (whoa!!), clarinet, and washboard. They sounded really good, and actually have some gigs booked. The first is on the 5th, so they had to think of a band name by then. It turns out that the two girls are from Rhode Island, and went to high school with my Clark friends Shane and Nader. Crazy! They surrendered their spot after about a half hour, since they had come into the city for free museum day. They live on the East Bay so whenever they come in they bring their gear to pay for their trip. Very cool. They still had to wait for friends, so they actually sat and listened to me for a bit, which I'm not used to. I kind of liked having an audience, especially since two of them got up and danced! They're playing a show in a couple weeks in the Mission, and I'm going to wrack my brain for the name of the bar and go see them.
Stuff that happened:
1. A man came up and told me that I need to play fast, like Mexicans! Noted.
2. I played for a big group of girls on a field trip. Unfortunately I don't really know how to please kids over age five. I asked if they had any favorite showtunes. They asked for Justin Bieber. Or Ke$ha (ugh part of my soul just died actually punching in the dollar sign). Finally we settled for Beyonce, and I did the least soulful version of "Single Ladies" you'll ever hear.
3. A one woman band walked by! She had a ringmaster type costume on, and held a steel guitar. On her back was a big drum. I forget what else. She certainly means business, it was a little unnerving.
4. Unfortunately, the Hot Dog Man wasn't there, so I could neither redeem his certificate for a hot dog nor go meet him. Oh well.
5. Remember the trick bikers/skateboarders who hang out in the crosswalk island and smoke weed? Well this time one skateboarder decided to jump over my box. All day. Pretty cool.
After playing, I met up with Anthony the sax player again. Our new song this week was "Stand by Me," and he proposed we take our show on the road down to the wharf. He says that we can't get busted if we keep moving. We walked along the Embarcadero toward the piers. I kept my accordion strapped on so we could play whenever. We discovered that we could play while walking, both of us playing with just our left hands while our right hands pulled our respective wheeled apparati. "Brown Eyed Girl" thus emerged.
This will be the last time that I play with Anthony on his turf, because I felt uncomfortable with his busking style. He keeps moving, and goes up to groups of people and asks (/pressures them) if they want to hear a song. They usually feel obligated to say yes, and then to tip him. In my opinion, it's moves like this that make many people dislike street musicians, and put them in the same category as panhandlers. I know that I am lucky to do better than most street musicians, due to my instrument of choice, sex, and age (and non-homeless appearance), and thus don't have to resort to this tactic.
However, I did learn from Anthony where exactly you need a permit on the wharf. I was going to avoid it completely due to its complicated application/scheduling procedure, but I might actually go in the surrounding area, because on weekdays during the day it's really the only place with enough foot traffic. This does mean taking the bus home that goes through Chinatown, which isn't the best place for a big wooden box as it knocks over the hundreds of ancient Chinese women with their entire bamboo plants that board at rush hour. Oops.
That's all for Tuesday! I was in the sun so I'm really freckly now.
Oh and I forgot to include that last Tuesday I saw a woman with a Wired Puppy t-shirt, a coffeeshop in Provincetown! Yeahhh!
Wednesday
Again, not too much to report. Yesterday was actually one of my worst days yet.
Reasons why it may have been bad:
1. I've been growing my hair so I can do two braids, and yesterday was the first day I did them. I was very excited about them, but I fear they may be bad luck.
2. I chose a bad time of day to play, 3:00-6:00 in the Castro. I thought that people would be getting off work and having tea/shopping or whatever, but it was too early. As I was packing up it was getting busier for dinner, so I learned the lesson that there's really no point in going before dinner time unless there's a daytime event.
3. I didn't have my spot all along. When I got there this cello player had it. I regret the fact that I haven't talked to him yet, I've seen him a few times and we're clearly in competition for the good spots, so I might as well charm him (or lie and say you need a permit for my spot. That'll get him!!!) Also someone needs to tell him to SMILE while he plays. And probably get a funny hat. Anyway, I went up a couple blocks to the Castro BART stop (aka the Harvey Milk Plaza) which was real bad. There's a stoplight which is good, but there's no bus traffic, and it was too early for a lot of BART commuters.
4. I was also just playing poorly. I had had a long practice session that morning, and usually I don't do both in the same day. My wrists weren't hurting or anything, but maybe my brain has an accordion limit (I know most people's souls do).
By the time I gave up and packed up, grumpy cello guy was gone, so I took over my spot. Location really does make a difference, in the brief time that I had my spot, I got three five dollar bills that prevented yesterday from being literally the least money-making day ever (one guy even flashed his five to make sure I saw it and knew how generous he was). Love those fives, they mean I make 400% more than I otherwise would in a given 20-second period (is that right math? Caffeine's wearing off).
Today's Tales:
1. A crazy guy was wandering around loudly pondering the fact that the dragons are going to take over the world. Excuse me, the fucking dragons.
2. I ran into one of Katina's friends that I had met at her party!
3. A guy with a wicked old camera loitered. It's from the '30s and looks really cool. He just got it and is figuring out. He'll send me pics if they come out, I'm excited about that.
4. Finally, finally, finally I got pizza. I was feeling really left out that every other busker in history has gotten pizza from a passerby. Aborto has, Cady the statue lady has, everyone but me. But wait! A guy with a huge red and black mohawk walked by with a pizza box. When I finished a song, he proffered me the opened box. No pizza has ever tasted sweeter. I bet cello guy didn't get any pizza. However this pizza high wore off when I realized that I had no plate or napkins. I sacrificed the recently printed "I Want You Back" sheet music (oops, spoiler alert!!) and continued playing until I could procure napkins. A teenager took a couple pictures so I asked if she had a napkin. She said she didn't. A few minutes later, she came back with a stack. Definitely the MVP of the day. I could eat pizza, and my accordion survived my greasy fingers.
5. On the way home, I ran into a guy who had walked by earlier. I'm pretty sure he was drunk. We had the strangest conversation ever:
Man: I know you! Christina!
Sophie: No, you saw me playing accordion a little while ago!
Man: Oh yeah. What do you do for a living?
Sophie: I play accordion on the streets.
Man: And you pay rent doing that?
Sophie: Well I'm not paying rent at the moment, but when I have to I do other work too.
Man: Like....work with energy?
Sophie: Sure.
Man: Or study teach?
Sophie: Closer.
Man: You know, my [something] is from Beijing and does acupuncture. You should take the L train and get off at the zoo, stop for a burrito if
you want, then go get acupuncture. If you do that it means you're a smart person.
Hm, I do want to be a smart person so maybe I'll do that. As long as I can also go to the zoo.
The very exciting news is that I'm learning the Jackson 5's "I Want You Back." I'm getting ready for a Valentine's Day that I hope is comparable to New Year's Eve, and I'm learning some new songs. I googled "classic love songs" and this was on the list. I have the intro down (as can be seen on my dad's facebook wall) but still have to practice a lot. I'm super pumped to have it in my repertoire.
Oh, I saw two Red Sox hats!!! Yayy! Boooo Giants!
That is all.
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