Nothing but misadventures tonight. Some crazy bunch of black girls tried making me feel retarded by mock-dancing to the Eels song I was playing in 42nd St (it worked). And it took me forever to find that pitch, too (pitch=busking term for choice location). I uprooted myself and went to the ACE section of 34th St. I met with minimal success. It could have been that by that point it was nearly 8:00, or that I was too tired to give off any kind of enthusiam.
Finding a pitch sucks. One more reason to create a site where buskers can meet each other and set up some sort of schedule. Not that the thousands of buskers in this city would ever come together entirely...it just seems like it could work to everyone's advantage.
Some doofus nicked my corner of 59th St that I played in last time (which obviously makes it mine forever and ever till the cows come home), and was being circled by police officers. He was playing some kind of African/Asian harp I'd not seen before. I'm not quite sure what made him worthy of circling...I hope some vultures just died and got reincarnated as NYPD officers. That would explain the circling!....and the screaming rabbits they held in their talons.
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Welcome to New York...I've been busking on these streets and subway platforms for an easy 12 years now. I stumbled across your blog and am now compelled to comment. Here goes:
Cheers for your lofty and well intentioned ideals concerning NYCs unwritten buskers protocall.
I like your idea of a meeting place for us to set up a schedule - they do that in Quebec and Toronto. What a relief, it took the wind out of competing for a spot. I couldn't see that working here - cooperation just isn't the American way. We're just gonna do whatever the hell we want and screw the rest of you.
It helps to keep an open mind and be ready for ANYTHING.
As a genreal rule, I try not to take it personally when I get razzed by a bunch of teenagers.[not worth moving for]
Or when people take my picture with expensive cameras and don't tip.[give a good pose, then I'll chase 'em down with the hat]
Or folks with thousands of dollars worth of clothes on who tell you how great your music is and don't tip.[smile and say thanks]
Oh, the shit-list goes on forever and your blog brings back some early memories of getting stirred up by the whirlwind of humanity that one witnesses while busking.
I do, however reserve the right to get pissed off when someone sets up right on top of me and I'll put the beat-down on (almost) anyone who does.
That feller at 59th st(if it's who I'm thinking of) was playing a KORA. He's from Cote d'Ivoire and it's the traditional instrument of his family - a lineage of singers/storytellers/historians/buskers that goes back at least as far as the 17th century.
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