Friday, May 19, 2006

As much as I like to think of myself as open-minded and non-judgmental, I keep being wrong about people, usually in a good way.

For example, while I was playing Vivaldi, a man in a tweed jacket and stetson with a nicely-trimmed beard who looked like an Irishman to me, thanked me for NOT playing Irish fiddle music. And a man who appeared to be the type of guy who would prefer Beck to Bach asked me not only what key the gavotte I'd just played was in, but the BWV number.

I made friends with a woman in Government Center who is a classical pianist and was considering getting a permit and carrying around a portable keyboard, but she thought she probably wouldn't make too much money playing classical music. I wasn't sure what to tell her...I intersperse classical with fiddle (and the one show tune I know right now), because I think classical music deserves to be heard, but I stick with the familiar and the easy on the ears. I have a whole rant on the general American perception of classical music, but that's for another time, perhaps.


When I was heading home through the Public Garden last night, I saw a man sitting under a tree by the lagoon with a guitar. I assumed he was another busker, but when I went closer, I realized he was facing away from the path; his case was closed, and he was playing a nylon-stringed guitar without amplification. He was just sitting quietly playing to himself and the ducks. I appreciated that.

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