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This past weekend, after resting (and de-graying my hair again) I did two shows. Because of various Crap-Storms (F-list, see previous entries 8) I hadn't gone into the subway since being driven out by FiddleJerk before Pensic.
It's still a challenge to find an unoccupied station, but on both Saturday and Sunday (in different stations), the third time was the charm and I was able to set up and sing/play. I've added a new song ("My Ding-a-Ling" by Chuck Berry) complete with ankle bells ("See, "ding-a-ling" couldn't POSSIBLY be a euphemism! Look, I've got the bells right here!" ::::::ANGELIC SMILE:::::::). The bell-playing needs more rehearsal, since I am, in effect, activating a previously-dormant limb for the new performance. Apparently the whole muscle memory needs to be reprogrammed for any song for which I want to use the bells. There are several upbeat songs which would benefit from a bit of extra percussion.
Saturday I didn't find a station until nearly five o'clock, but I learned that that's a pretty good time for high numbers of audience. Since the songs in my show are notewise enough that I can mostly play and sing without thinking, I could pay attention to other things. Like the phenomenon of shared positive experience. The subway is full of people playing music. There's nothing unique about my playing, and even if my voice grabs people's attention or if it is a good or even beautiful thing as kind people have said, between the iPods and the other aspiring artists every half-a-block, there's a limited potential impact by my brand of beautiful 8) The one show element which depends entirely upon my doing something deliberate is the audience interaction. People give money to street performers which A) look as if they are working hard (which includes things like skill and talent), B) look as if they are having fun (this maxim was pounded into Coxcomb students by the core teachers, who are the most successful artists of my acquaintance), and C) look as if they want to share that fun positive energy with their audience. The last one is the element one performer can only teach another up to a point, because what makes that magic connection between YOU and your audience is unique to you. And you can't even contemplate paying attention to that element of a performance when your mind is consumed with remembering under-rehearsed lyrics, chords and beat patterns. THIS, I think, is the element that makes busking renumerative for me. Maybe this is the thing which has caused people to come up to me after I have...not won...a competition and say, "I'll see you performing later, won't I?" (Yes, you probably will, because I am, after all, an attention whore 8) It'll probably be something you've already seen me do, maybe more than once, because some moments, I just need to perform at that "level" of interaction-without-thinking. Since I know my constant craving, the least I can do is make the thing you're paying attention to worthwhile.
After the shows I had dinner out, got some human and kitty supplies, bought train tickets for the week and did three loads of laundry. None of which would have been possible without the shows 8)
It's still a challenge to find an unoccupied station, but on both Saturday and Sunday (in different stations), the third time was the charm and I was able to set up and sing/play. I've added a new song ("My Ding-a-Ling" by Chuck Berry) complete with ankle bells ("See, "ding-a-ling" couldn't POSSIBLY be a euphemism! Look, I've got the bells right here!" ::::::ANGELIC SMILE:::::::). The bell-playing needs more rehearsal, since I am, in effect, activating a previously-dormant limb for the new performance. Apparently the whole muscle memory needs to be reprogrammed for any song for which I want to use the bells. There are several upbeat songs which would benefit from a bit of extra percussion.
Saturday I didn't find a station until nearly five o'clock, but I learned that that's a pretty good time for high numbers of audience. Since the songs in my show are notewise enough that I can mostly play and sing without thinking, I could pay attention to other things. Like the phenomenon of shared positive experience. The subway is full of people playing music. There's nothing unique about my playing, and even if my voice grabs people's attention or if it is a good or even beautiful thing as kind people have said, between the iPods and the other aspiring artists every half-a-block, there's a limited potential impact by my brand of beautiful 8) The one show element which depends entirely upon my doing something deliberate is the audience interaction. People give money to street performers which A) look as if they are working hard (which includes things like skill and talent), B) look as if they are having fun (this maxim was pounded into Coxcomb students by the core teachers, who are the most successful artists of my acquaintance), and C) look as if they want to share that fun positive energy with their audience. The last one is the element one performer can only teach another up to a point, because what makes that magic connection between YOU and your audience is unique to you. And you can't even contemplate paying attention to that element of a performance when your mind is consumed with remembering under-rehearsed lyrics, chords and beat patterns. THIS, I think, is the element that makes busking renumerative for me. Maybe this is the thing which has caused people to come up to me after I have...not won...a competition and say, "I'll see you performing later, won't I?" (Yes, you probably will, because I am, after all, an attention whore 8) It'll probably be something you've already seen me do, maybe more than once, because some moments, I just need to perform at that "level" of interaction-without-thinking. Since I know my constant craving, the least I can do is make the thing you're paying attention to worthwhile.
After the shows I had dinner out, got some human and kitty supplies, bought train tickets for the week and did three loads of laundry. None of which would have been possible without the shows 8)
