From Shadow Suite To Sunshine Sweet: Another Essay On The Art And Science Of Busking

I was discovered at my latest and most frequent buskingdom, the Extra Foods parking lot on Broadway. It was a glorious busking day, warm and windless. I was busking solo, just thrumming random tunes on my banjitar.

Would you like to play at our annual Spring Scavenger Hunt? asked a delightful Dianne, whose business card read Executive Assistant – Schizophrenia Society of Saskatchewan. Admittedly, rather than the draw of my sweet rhythms; it was the lure of the Canadian Mental Health Association sign that charmed Dianne to be next to me. And the following Saturday I recruited my usual buskmate, Baron, and we entertained (and were entertained) for a couple of hours at the society's annual scavenger fund raiser.

[See picture from left to right:

Scavengineer Osh, self, Bongero Baron, Chef-d'oeuvre Peter]

It was the perfect Saturday for a busk. Fat sizzling bronzed wieners. Raw white onions. Bright yellow mustard. We were set up at the event vanguard, right beside the barbecue and the unflappable Peter, the volunteer chef who grilled his gourmet tube steaks the entire duration of the scavenger hunt.

Over a dozen teams of four members each chased after 25 quarried items strategically scattered around the city of Regina, Saskatchewan. Each team was allowed one vehicle, one camera, and three hours to complete its quest. This was not a tin-pot operation, as there were prizes galore for the hoi polloi who had participated ( including Baron and self who were given designer t-shirts, ice-cold drinks and those gourmet hot dogs, of course!).

In the beginning and long ago, Baron and I started played together in Shadow Suite, a band put together strictly for the free entertainment of people having a mental illness. One of our original members, Dee, who was an awesome vocalist and guitarist and from the mental health community, just couldn't keep her act together long enough to play in public. At one point when we were finalizing our play list, she popped dozens of pills, only to be rescued by Baron, who dialed 911, the act of which saved her life. Last we heard, D was getting married and moving to Alberta.

Another time we had another guitarist, Jay, lined up. But Jay was all talk and never a show. And over the years we've had a variety of musicians express interest, but they too, for the most part have been no-shows.

Here is the skinny from my perspective. Tapping band players from the mental health talent pool is truly an endurance test. The three principal qualities necessary for such ambitious and well intentioned band managers are: patience, patience, patience. Alas, but I am a failed Buddhist, too hyper to practice any of the said virtues. But I can serve in another way – busking!

Busking does demand patience, but not necessarily as its principal agent. Here are some Psychological Candies to crunch on for the art and science of any successful buskingdom:

• Stay in the crowd. Buskers have to always put themselves out there, but do so among the daylight and nighttime crowds. This is a safety issue. I've been in dark places among scant populations and it can get dangerous.

• Train yourself to associate busking with pleasure. When it is sunny and windless, busking is always more fun than work. Drizzmal days produce parsimonious people and sunny days produce munificent people. In good weather, more people are prone to stop and chat and express genuine interest and goodwill in your entertaining endeavor.

• Take a break. I've gotten into the celebrated habit of sitting on the curb and savoring an American decaf at least a couple of times on a busk. Ahh such a simple treat!

• Get physically fit. It takes stamina to busk and the fitter you are, the better you'll be.

• Think selfless, not selfish. This is most important! Moving so along that pschologically linear thinking path will always produce rich results. Successful busking is self-expression, not self-promotion.
  

Being discovered by Dianne that afternoon in the Extra Foods parking lot was just another zenith resulting from the synchronicity and phenomenology of life. Similarly, I was once busking at the Cathedral Arts Street Festival and was there, too, discovered and signed to play at a Dragon Boat Festival.

Generally speaking, doing anything always begets doing another thing.

And in a line – Busking here begets busking there!

In The Land Of The Blind: An Essay On The Player King Of The Parking Lots

'Neath a warm mid-day sun and cloudless sky, Baron and I were busking in a shopping mall parking lot, visible to all the people shopping at Extra Foods and to the majority of people buying booze from the liquor store. And then the ne'er-do-well happened by. Cap-a-pie he was rumpled, wrinkled, and smelly. His black cap was crooked on his head, and he had fresh spots of mustard around his unshaved face (probably squirted from hot dog he’d purchased from ladies selling dogs and drinks for a toonie in front of the grocery store). He wore a filthy dark coat partly closed with a couple of middle buttons, and his too-long dirty and baggy pants covered his worn out black and white sneakers.

Watch this guy, I said to Baron, who was playing on his cajon. He’s going to grab our coin. If he makes a move, just kick the case out of his reach. There is no way we’re going to have some punch out right here in the middle of this parking lot.

And sure enough this freeloader wandered over to us, stood within a yardstick from our pitch, and gave us a momentary sneer. He was so close we could smell his breath as he wheezed and mumbled something (derogatory I'd imagined), after which he turned and staggered back to his business of pan-handling in front of the liquor store. Within minutes some staff from the liquor had again shoo'd him away from their entrance, and then he glared again at us.

I know he’s coming over here to grab our money, so get ready, I whispered to Baron. Sure enough. He stumbled back to our pitch, leaned right in toward the two of us, almost losing his balance … then tossed some change into our buskpot!

This was Projective Psychology at its finest. And here I thought I was conceitedly above stereotyping and classism. Rather than being a bandit, this cadge was a brother!

Busking in a parking lot is certainly lucrative both in coin and in the study of human behaviors. Empirical evidence has taught me that in a shopping mall parking lot there are fundamentally three groups of people: the shoppers, the staff, and the solicitors.

Shoppers are continuously arriving and departing. They drive up in cars and trucks and motorcycles. They ride in on bicycles. And some just walk in. A few of them toss coins as they enter the lot, and many toss their coins as they exit.

Staff members from the shopping mall seem to be always milling about. They are helping customers unload groceries from carts to cars. They are sweeping the sidewalks and they are picking litter off the pavement. And some are shooing away the pan-handlers.

Solicitors, too, are ever present. Rain or shine, there are always people selling hot dogs and drinks for local sports teams or school bands heading to Europe. And there are always people plying for money in front of the liquor store. Sometimes there are guitar buskers, and oftentimes there are pan-handlers. Very few are like me. I quite enjoy being in the centre of the parking lot, as I’ve always enjoyed the rich conversations of grocery shoppers who seem very willing to fling coins my way. (On a busy day, every two minutes coins are tossed into my banjitar case – when the time between coins extends beyond five minutes, I usually roll up the mat and move on.)

Here are a few Psychological Candies to crunch from my buskapades in parking lots:

• Be among those who make you smile. I always smile at people who give me money. And I cannot help but smile with my beggar brothers in solicitation, those canaille and cadge neighbors with whom I often share the same spaces and crowds.

• Value what you do. It’s not beneath me to busk in front of a liquor store – I've just never done it (yet). Simply, I quite enjoy the richness of conversations and coins elsewhere; parks, sidewalks, and mall parking lots.

• Find purpose. I busk, not only for myself, but for the Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA Saskatchewan Division). Such busking really is a win, win, win situation. I’m happy getting paid to practice my banjitar playing. The people passing by are happy getting bargain entertainment. And the CMHA is happy to receive my donations.

Busking is really a bask in sunny and simple pleasures. In my busking alterity, frailing random riffs on my banjitar in the middle of a shopping mall parking lot I am, for that hour or so, the self- crowned monarch of my buskingdom. Compared with the hundreds of passers-by, I am the best banjitar player on the pavement. (Sure, I know there are better pickers out there, but they are not in my parking lot, and if they were, they’d be but one in a thousand amid the pedestrian traffic.)

Comparing my status with the mall staff, some have expressed they would rather do what I do than what they are presently doing. (I do know that buskers represent a certain charismatic and romanticized wanderlust of a life that most people only dream about.)

And comparing myself with the other solicitors in the same general area, I am regarded, not only as a brother, but as an apotheosis of sorts – though I could be delusional in this regard! I do know, from my busking experiences, that I am perceived as being more approachable to chit-chat than those in their work suits walking briskly and importantly down the business sidewalks or across the pavement of the shopping malls.

And to embiggen my status as parking lot busker …

In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king (Erasmus, 1510).

In my buskingdom, I am truly the player king of the parking lot!

I Hear The Train A Comin': An Essay On The Grand Trunk Troubadours

Pictured are The Grand Trunk Troubadours! So named because the original troubadours of the band met while taking vocal lessons at the University of Regina Conservatory of Music, situated on College Avenue, formally known as 16^th Avenue, the historical address of the Grand Trunk Railway station.

The members, from left to right, are: Bill, an addictions counselor, plays guitar and sings; Chris, a school counselor, sings plays pots and pans (our pet phrase for auxiliary percussion); Eric, a political campaigner, sings and plays the fiddle; Judy, a high school teacher, sings and plays pots and pans; Neil (self), a high school guidance counselor, plays 12 string and banjitar, and sings a bit; Baron, a landscaper, plays drums; Lillie, a provincial manager, sings and plays warm-up piano.

*Steve, not in picture, a wholesaler, plays guitar.

*Chris and Judy and Lillie, all can play keyboard. Chris can also play guitar, and Judy can also play the saxophone.

The Grand Trunk Troubadours (affectionately known as the GTT) is strictly a community service band, in the sense that it plays mostly at retirement residences, shut-in facilities, and hospitals. Officially the GTT plays pro bono, though honorariums are commonplace. One summer we played an afternoon concert for the members of a northern community who had to evacuate their homes because of the forest fires. This summer we are scheduled to perform for the members of a beach community who are still sand bagging in an attempt to save their homes from flood damage.

The GTT practices every Thursday evening through just one month, September, arranging its play list, and then gigs every Thursday evening from October through to June. GTT performances usually last an hour, are scheduled in evenings from 7 o'clock until 8 o'clock. To date as I write, I see the Grand Trunk Troubadours are booked until January of next year.

As the band typically breaks this time of year, two other groups, Friday Harbor and Seahorse, are its direct summer spin-offs. Friday Harbor plays coffee houses, Seahorse does the summer busk scene.

Here are some GTT Psychological Candies to crunch on:

• Because of our heavy gig schedule, by late spring the GTT members get raddled. If we did not disband each summer, I doubt we'd regroup come September.

• As a band we've no particular political adhesions. We sometimes discuss politics – we never discuss religion.

• Our dress code is a bit campy. We always wear either black or white tops, and blue jeans are mandatory.

• One would think that having eight members in a band would complify things. It does not; in fact, having so many members makes things simpler, in that it is not so important that everyone show up on any particular gig night.

• Generally, the band members are congruous in their musical thinking. Specifically we do have a couple of counter patterns, our country gal (Chris) and our country guy (Bill).

• So far in our band history, it seems 60's and 70's folk songs are never demode. Everybody loves strummers and hummers.

• When we play in retirement communities the GTT is really just a shallow dish of eye candy. We are a musical sweet to be savored, certainly not meant as a replacement for the seniors' regular menu of exercise, reading, and socializing.

• We, in the GTT, have been nascent since our inception. Eight years ago we were novice guitarists and wannabe singers; we are now contracted to play for a television audience.

As much as I love to busk, I love being in the band of Grand Trunk Troubadours!

I hear the train a comin'... and I hope to play and sing 'til that last train comes in!

We Are All Of Us Galapagos: An Essay On Evolutionary Psychology In Buskingdom

1831. Charles Darwin sails to the Galapagos Islands on the H.M.S. Beagle. He wonders how so many different plants and animals arrived there in the first place, and how they are so perfectly adapted for their environments.

1859. Charles Darwin's book, On the Origin of Species, is released to the public. The book describes the principle of Natural Selection, the skinny of which is the strongest survive and therefore increase the strength of the species.

Darwin concluded that once on the island, the varied species established themselves and determined their territories. I've decided that this, too, is true within the citizenry of Buskingdom.

Within any territory worth busking, there is a macedoine of people, a Chaucerian parade of characters both fixed and in transit, preferrably demarcated within a downtown environment. Some of these characters will be sellers, some will be shoppers. Some of these characters will be tourists, some will be service providers. Some of these characters will be beggars, and some even, will be buskers.

Day to day within any prescribed buskingdom, the people patterns are predictably similar to any day previous and to any day hence. Most of the merchants will be stationary. The shoppers and tourists will be transitory. They will arrive and depart. The beggars will search for places to bask in the sunshine, yet keep themselves among the crowds. And we buskers, will move according to where we think the most coins will be tossed.

And just how do all these people survive within this mercantile environment? To this question I believe the answers are simple and multiple. Amicable merchants who sell quality products at a reasonable prices; their businesses will thrive. Shoppers that are lucid and mobile will continue to shop (until they drop) in the malls, niche and novelty shops. Begrime free beggars and cadges who have the stamina to stay downtown, will continue to pester and plug along.

We buskers, however, need to employ other skill sets, in ways that are atypical from the previously mentioned populace.

Buskers need to observe. Specifically, we need to study the faces in the crowd and generally, we need to observe the whereabouts of the crowd. (Not much need to play here when everyone is gathered over there.)

Buskers need to believe. We must be felicitous and muster the confidence in our own personalities and talents to keep entertaining to certain persons in particular, and yet to everyone in general. We must do this throughout the entire durations of any busk.

Buskers need to react. If no one is listening to any of our songs, we must change our playlist. If no one is tossing coins our way, we must move up the street.

Finally, buskers need to enjoy. We must stay positive and keep smiling. And sometimes we have to remind ourselves that work does not get any better than this!

We must be continuously observing, believing, reacting, and enjoying. Intertwining these behaviors, will provide opportunities to create our own kismet for many a copacetic and glorious day in Buskingdom.

In so doing we will stay strong. We will survive ...

So You Want To Be A Busker: An Essay On De Novo To Go Go

Busking is cool. Just google any video of Mic Christopher & Glen Hansard. Busking is really, really cool. Now google Darth Fiddler. Whether dressed as your character-self or costumed as another, you, too, can be as cool. So if you want to be a busker, be one now.

Perhaps your life has not gone the way you had desired, did not proceed exactly as you had imagined. Ha! I know that for most/all of you this is ironic and sarcastic and understated. Crafting the perfect and authentic life is challenging, but as long as you are breathing and determined, you can always begin again.

Are you the predictable type? Pedantic? Pedestrian? I am guessing that you are. To date your life has likely been cookie-cutter fashioned into a ponderous hodgepodge of hoops and hurdles. You are probably in an intimate relationship and you have/want children. Your roof has a 25 year mortgage and you have two sets of wheels. You've a couple credit cards, one at least to the max. You've unwittingly exited the fast lane for the zoom lane. You want your loved ones to flourish, yet you want to be free. Staring down the road you are praying to your god/s to see daylight, because the skinny of your existence is, as stated in textbook Psychology, automaticity.

To cobble a new lifestyle and to begin again takes imagination, patience, and work. To be a busker demands that you disturb your present life cadence. Before I was a faux busker I was an apprentice lineman (the title at the time), a chain man (again, sexist, but the title at the time), an aquatics instructor, a teacher, a counsellor. Busking has been my de novo. Busking is my soul search for self-authenticity.

Seeking an authentic lifestyle has challenging for a number of reasons. One fundamental reason is that our Western main stream consists of government, commercial, educational, and religious institutions, all of which are static and quite resistant to change. Adjustments of church policies are difficult, but revamping any public school system is even more difficult. These are just a couple of examples.

Another reason is that our appetites for authentic personal quests are just too adventurous. All the predictable patterns that we are accustomed to have predictable outcomes. Quests, on the other hand, provide mostly questions without answers, having to conquer the shining moments as they perpetually arrive. A busking life is not one of parlous adventure, but it seems so from a public perspective.

When deciding to be a busker just remember where you stand (metaphorically). How much income do you need (both realistically and psychologically)? What matters to you most (your happiness, others' happiness)? To live is to suffer, but just how much do you want to suffer? Busking need not be an ancillary lifestyle, but again, it seems to appear so from a public perspective.

To be a busker you must have within you some answers to these questions. You will need to rely on that inner voice, that sixth sense, your common sense.

A busker life is Promethean enough that you'll need supports. You need not abdicate completely your present lifestyle to be a busker, and you most certainly cannot be cavalier. You will need your mates; you will need your loved ones; you'll need to be corporately connected.

Too soon shall I be old. My life, like yours, as been traumatic and treacherous, laughable and wonderful. I've been through enough milestones to recognize my mortality. Though I'm not yet having death anxieties, as I age I am procrastinating less. My life has been filled with grace. As people get older they tend to get more selfish, and so grows their egoism. As I age, busking does just the opposite for me. Buskingdom provides, literally, hundreds of opportunities to return some of that grace. For in that alterity --

the parade of Chaucerian characters I meet vis-a-vis is endless.

The Planetary Guide To Paradise On The Concrete: Another Essay On Busker Happiness

I wonder what the poor people are doing.

My colleague, Ricky, has told me that as a boy, he and his brothers and parents routinely settled around a get-together campfire, roasting hotdogs and marshmallows, and inevitably his dad, in complete contentment whilst sipping a shot of whiskey, would herald the above statement to everyone (yet to no one in particular).

Reminiscing, Ricky related that his family was poor – not dirt poor, but most certainly a myriad of paychecks short of being in the well-to-do middle class. That crackling family campfire must have meant something very special to his dad during those gathering times. It could be that in those assembled moments, he was truly happy in the company of his loving wife and his loving children. It could be too, that congregating around the smoke and flames ignited within him a certain peacefulness, most likely something completely contrary to his daylight scrambling. Whatever was the prompt for that particular declaration, the richness and warmth of that evening outdoor fire was the perfect primal metaphor expressing the need and want for family within us all.

For we buskers, the I-wonder-what-the-poor-people-are-doing campfire statement sparks yet more Psychology Candies to crunch on for our sidewalk richness.

• Keep moving. Don't let the changes in life throw you completely off track. Stay the course, plan your busks, and channel your energy in this same regard.

• Believe in your performance. With each performance you gain experience to refurbish for the next.

• Embrace your sidewalk adventures. Know that the world is not out to get you. It is not the world that punishes you – it is you that punishes yourself. Focusing on what you have and what you have to offer gives you a more positive perspective.

• Recognize your street strengths. Direct these strengths toward your performances. Be good at what you do. Practice your weaknesses in private.

• Don't get greedy. Desire can be both motivating and detrimental. Wanting too much can prove to be painful. As you seek your happiness, keep your integrity.

• Stay thick-skinned. When it comes to public put-downs, be dispassionate. Be cognizant that some of your audience members have issues. Showing your ire will just add to their invectiveness and issues, perhaps even adding to yours.

• Disappointment is part of life. Disappointments are the psychological counter patterns to a life filled with plaudits and joy. Rather than commiserate, process your disappointments, take some action, rise to the next level.

• Kick your fears to the curb. Keep playing and focus only on your present performance.

Buskers, sidewalk richness is the key to our happiness. Introspection will always present to us that whenever we dare compare ourselves to certain others, we are indeed, rich.

I wonder what the poor people are doing...

A Place In The Sun: An Essay On Busker Carpe Diem

Carpe Diem
to seize, grasp, enjoy the day

In a game of poker we are dealt cards that are not of our choosing. Sometimes we get strong hands; sometimes we get weak hands. Whether the hands we are dealt are weak or strong we try and make do. Sometimes the wisest choice is to immediately fold. Sometimes it is wise to bluff.

And so, too, is it in life. We are not dealt events of our choosing. We did not choose our parents; we did not choose our birthplace; we did not choose our gender. Sometimes the wisest choice is to just concede. Sometimes it is best to play things out until the end.

This is where the comparison between poker and life stops. Our hands in poker are completely independent of one another. Not so in life. How we deal with each hand in life determines our strategy and stamina for each succeeding hand thereon.

The place of each of our lives should always be in the sunshine. Generally, we ought to be happy, or be striving to be happy. And when we are happy, those whom we affect, too, should have lots of opportunity to be happy. I am speaking of spouses and children and friends and workmates and familiar strangers and those less fortunate than we. I am speaking of arriving at that place of altruism, self-actualization, and self-efficacy.

How do we get there? The answer lies in how we evolve given just an average 80 years of breath on this planet (guys 78, ladies 82). We can, I believe, evolve from whatever initial hands we are dealt, into being an overall card game winner at any table. From wherever we originate we have the potential to self-direct into a personable, positive, and generous sentient being.

Here is how:

To change our lives we must start immediately, right now, with no exceptions.

Imagine the person you'd like to be. Give that person your face and your name, and then go from there. If this imagined person needs a new body type, get fit. If this imagined person needs a better job, get trained. If this imagined person needs a different spouse and kids, work on changing yourself.

Imagine doing things you like to do. If this action is laughing, get smiling. If this action is hiking, get walking. If this action is playing and singing, get practicing.

The size of the gap between the real you and the imagined you determines the happiness in your life. The narrower the gap, the more harmonious your life will be. Likewise, the wider the gap, the more dissonant your life will be.

Some Psychology Candies to crunch on:

• To do anything of substance we must make the time rather than find the time. Doing things in haste gives way to just being brummagem.

• Rather than angst, busking for faux buskers ought to be cathartic. Busking for others ought to be joyful.

• Generally to the listener, busker music is but ear candy. Busking for a cause (any cause) will most certainly add depth to any song.

• When on a busk, dance rather than galumph between busk stations.

• And we ought to be dancing and busking until that day of our infirm.

• As we get older we'll find we'll only regret the things we didn't do.

Whatever place you are at present can be improved. Different people have different senses of places that are important. For me, my place is to be busking in my recreational time. For many, many others, their place of most importance is just to have a safe and clean shelter, have bread and drink on the table, and to be treated with respect. And this is why I am choosing to busk for the Canadian Mental Health Association come Summer.

'Til and in the Winter of my life do I hope to find my place in the sun and enjoy my day …

even if it means busking in the snowbanks!