Busking
So I had my first busking experience this week.
I had already figured on trying out St Ann’s Square. This seemed like a good idea as I made my way down there as Market Street was already teeming with shoppers. It was scarily busy, in fact (this was my first time, after all).
Not to mention that there were a bunch of other street entertainers already out and doing their standing-very-still-with-painted-white-face thing. St Ann’s Square, in contrast, was leafy and empty and peaceful and quiet.
Turns out peaceful and quiet is no good for busking.
After spending about half an hour getting dirty looks from shopkeepers, some friendly hellos from the odd young mother and looks of indifference from the mass of pigeons, it was time to suck it up and go where the real buskers go.
On my way out I spoke with three rugged-looking but friendly chaps, Special Brew in hand (I like Orange Juice in the mornings myself, but each to their own), who were very kind and offered me some advice on the better spots. I took said advice and moved to Marks and Spencers at the bottom of Market Street.
Well bless their little beer-stained socks – they were bang on. No other buskers and there were at least three times as many people ignoring me as had ignored me before.
As I played through my songs, it dawned on me that perhaps this was my own fault. I hadn’t properly considered my audience when choosing material, and now I was singing about a power abusing priest, a man dying a slow death by monotonous lifestyle, a relationship falling apart and a desperate plea to a love rival.
Did people really want to hear this stuff at 11am on a Tuesday morning? I’d imagine that the last thing that you’d want to hear while trying to buy a new pair of trousers was a sad story about a drunken gambler.
So I tried to think of some happy, upbeat songs that I could play. I got nothing. Turns out that all of the songs that I play are about some depressing subject or another. Not so good.
I continued regardless if for no other reason than I at least needed to make enough for the train fare home. Turns out that not everybody was horrified by sadness/listened to anything that I played. Some nice people did hang out and listen and/or give me money.
Interestingly enough, there was no correlation that I could see between the two. Some swift walkers had their money ready to go and were tossing it in to my guitar case with nary a glance, let alone a break in their stride. Others would hang out, listen for a while, smile and wave and then move on. I didn’t care – the listeners were good for my ego and the rapid-money-throwers were good for my wallet.
When I finally decided that it wasn’t happening, I collected my earnings and found that I had made £3.65 in about an hour and a half. I was pretty pleased with myself, I have to say. It was enough for my train fare AND a Coke for the journey home, and all from playing some songs. Finally, I was living the dream.
I’m also not the only one to not earn that much from this gig.
I actually really enjoyed it. I saw it as an opportunity to get paid to basically practice my guitar playing and singing. I even started to write some new songs, making up random stories about the people walking by. I think the next time I do it, I’ll start a bit later – maybe around lunchtime – and I’ll add a few upbeat numbers. Here are the songs I’m learning at the moment:
- Hound Dog by Elvis
- Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers (OK, not strictly upbeat, but it’s a great song and people love it)
- Sweet Home Alabama by Lynryd Skynrd
- Stuck in the Middle by Stealer’s Wheel
- Yellow by Coldplay
- Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Deep Blue Something
If you have any suggestions for other songs that you’d imagine would be good for shoppers out in Manchester, post a comment and let me know.