I love kids' brains sometimes...

The following conversation took place with one of my students who is disturbingly smart, but occasionally lacks a bit in the common sense department. (Note: I'm the same way, only she's smarter than I've ever been.)

Student: The music's hard to read.
Fiddler: Yes, I think there's a reason for that.
S: I don't know what that reason is.
F: Well...think about it.
S: Hm...the music's kind of curved, so it's at a weird angle.
F: True, but that's not the current problem.
S: I don't know.
F: What are some reasons that people sometimes can't see things?
S: Sometimes things are too far away, but I'm really close to the music.
F: Right. What else?
S: Some people have poor eyesight, but my vision is perfect, so it's not that.
F: Also right. What else?
S: *ponders extensively* I just don't know.
F: What time of day is it?
S: OH! It's DARK in here! Maybe I should turn on the light!
F: Maybe you should.

*cue blinking as eyes try to adjust to sudden flood of light*

Too Darn Hot...

I've hardly been busking at all, what with the ridiculous temperatures (whaddya think this is, summer or something?) and the failure of whatever rain we do get to ameliorate said temperatures or humidity.

Exhibit A: Melted cats (note: we do have an air conditioned room. They do not generally choose to stay in it. I occasionally open the door and yell, "You're all stupid!" at them.)
















However, I think this is relevant, since I do much of my summer busking near the Make Way for Ducklings statue. (found via Universal Hub)

That was different

So I'd intended to write a post about how I'm busking again, and how lovely, if hot, the Public Garden was the other day, and how I'd actually missed it, but then...

I was waiting for the T at an above-ground Green Line stop, reading a book, when a largeish middle-aged Russian man came up and started talking to me.

"You play wiolin?"
"Yes..."
"I have kvestchun for you."

He asked why it is that violinists don't sing and play at the same time, like guitarists and pianists do. He hypothesized that it's because the violin presses on the vocal cords, so we can't. He suggested maybe if we held the violin differently, like putting it on a table, then we could.

I suggested that it might also be because it's much more difficult to play chords on the violin than on either guitar or piano, both of which are designed for such things. (In my case, it's because I'm not that coordinated, but that's a personal problem.) He blinked at me and then continued, at which point I realized this was not destined to be a conversation per se. So I kept nodding and smiling.

Eventually, he went away, and I watched him wander across the parking lot.

Five minutes later, he came back and informed me that I needed to be careful, because so many famous violinists had died young of throat cancer because of the violin pressing against their necks. He specifically cited Paganini and David Oistrakh as examples. Then he went away again.

Blessedly, the train appeared at that point. Of course, I needed to know what he was talking about, so I pulled out my trusty iPhone to check somewhat-less-trusty-but-generally-reasonably-accurate-about-such-matters-Wikipedia.

Niccolo Paganini lived from 1782-1840 and died at the age of 57 from general poor health, now thought to have been correlated with Marfan syndrome. OK, The Google, blessed be it, shows that Paganini's Facebook page does say he died of throat cancer, as do a few other hits, but I never think Yahoo! Answers is the place to go for reliability. Entertainment, sure.

David Oistrakh lived from 1908-1974 and died at the age of 66 from a heart attack.

Regardless of the facts, it was rather surreal to be warned that I might get throat cancer from my violin.

*sigh*

Dear Parents of My Students,

I always feel just terrible when I give my students a lecture or "that look" for not having practiced/acquired/learned something, and then I find out it's because the adult didn't write down the assignment/get the book/reviewed the material. Especially when the parent isn't in the room. Granted, especially with kids who can read, I don't accept much of the "my mom didn't tell me to" when I know the assignment was written down...particularly when I'm the one who wrote it*...but it makes my job easier and less guilt-inducing if you can follow through.

Or if you don't, let me know. I'm fairly forgiving, because I can barely keep track of my own stuff and I don't have kids, but when I've been assigning preview listening for three months, the student has no idea what I'm talking about, I lecture kid, and THEN I find out the CD was never gotten, and it's at the point where we really need it now...I don't really enjoy making children cry.**

Love,

The Violin Teacher

*My handwriting is admittedly atrocious, but everyone has my e-mail address for clarification.

**Much.

That was a little disturbing

Oft of an evening, by the time I get myself to Brookline Village, I decide I'm too tired to walk or bus the rest of the way home, and I catch a cab.

Usually, everything's fine, but last time...

I headed over to the cab stand and got in the first cab I saw*, told the driver where I was headed and then noticed that there had been a cab in front of the one I entered, but all its lights were off, so I didn't see it. I am aware of cab etiquette as far as choosing the frontmost cab at a cab stand, but that cab was mostly invisible at the time.

So "my" cabbie started driving, and suddenly the frontmost cab started honking and swerved in front of him cutting him off. That cabbie was yelling in a language I don't understand, but my cabbie did. My cabbie first told me to go to the other cab, but as I was reaching for the door handle, the other cabbie kept yelling louder and bringing his cab closer, and then my cabbie told me to stay in the cab and he'd take me anyway.

I'm glad he did; even if I had gotten out of the cab, I wasn't about to get in the other one, with that driver so angry. I made an honest mistake, and my cabbie did tell me to get into his cab, and I was afraid of the other driver. What I found most interesting is that both cabs were from Town Taxi. (Ah, a quick search of The Google, blessed be it, shows that Town Taxi is an independent dispatcher.)

Lately, I only like getting cabs from Veteran's Taxi in Newton; with one exception of a cabbie listening to conservative talk radio in which Jay Severin claimed that nobody's ever died from not having health insurance (no really, WHAT?), I've never felt uncomfortable in a Veteran's cab; they're clean, and their credit card machines always work. This doesn't help me get home at night, however.

Now that the weather's improving, I'm more fine with walking through Mission Hill than getting a Brookline cab. Although, I am quite fond of the Scion xB Hello Taxis, although I've never taken one. They're just so cute.

*Incidentally, I'm not originally from a Major City, and I still don't understand if a cab's light on the roof being on means it's available or not. Anyone?

Oh, happy day

One major benefit of teaching young'uns is that some of them are Girl Scouts, so I can get my Thin Mint fix without having to check all the train stations and grocery stores in the Greater Boston Metro Area.

I mean, sure, there's a web site for booth locations, but I have to remember to 1) look, 2) go there and 3) have money with me. One of my students yesterday just happened to have boxes on hand at her house, so even though SOME members of this household don't understand why one might need emergency backup Thin Mints, I have two boxes in the freezer.

It's a long time from one Girl Scout Cookie time to the next, and if I'm careful, I can hoard oh, eleven or sixty-eight boxes in the freezer without being detected.

Except that said household member reads this. Hm.

Wait, what?

Me: So it seems like you're counting to five fine, but try to get to eight.
4-year-old student: I'll count to five your HEAD.
Me: That...didn't even make sense.
Student: Oh.

Lack of safety in numbers...

...for me, anyway.

I had my younger violin group the other day, who are all in the seven-ish age range. One of their favorite activities at the moment is to play pieces while lying down. Last group, the conversation went something like this (and it doesn't really matter who's speaking, just picture a swarm of four seven-year-olds. Oh my, can they swarm):

"Next time, can we play standing on our heads?"
Me: That doesn't sound particularly safe...
"Someone could do that though if they were a really good acrobat."
"A really good acrobat could play violin on a tightrope!"
"On a bicycle on a tightrope!"
"There could be a horse under the tightrope and they could jump off the bicycle and land on the horse and keep playing the violin!"


I hereby disavow any and all responsibility for any violin-tightrope-bicycle-horse-related incidents. Ever.

Student memory

This happened when one of my now-eight-year-old students was five or six. (I can't believe I've had some kids that long...this is the longest I've been in one place to teach.)

During his lesson, he started chatting away in an almost Joyceian stream-of-consciousness.

Me: OK, can we get back to violin now?
Him: I'm just telling you things I know!
Me: Yes, but you're telling me everything you know.

Whadaya know about that?

Turns out they actually do sweep the train cars out during the day, at least occasionally. I had no idea.

Not mine, but still

One of my colleagues told me that, during a four-year-old's lesson, he looked at her and said, "You have the biggest teeth ever!"

She just sighed and continued the lesson.

Observed on the T

I freely admit to being far too Midwestern and white to get the extremely-low-pants thing, but...

When you're sitting down, and your belt is horizontal across your thighs? Your pants might be a little too low.

Silent type

After a 12-year-old's lesson, I was talking to his mother before he finished packing up and came out of the room, and I was praising his newly found attention to detail (12-year-old boys + detail work usually = something that doesn't happen).

He came out, and I told him I was saying nice things. His mother said, "She says you're doing really well with detail work, is that right?"

Student: *grins and blushes and shrugs*
Mom: A man of few words.
Student: Mmhmm.

Out of the mouths of...adults?

I have a couple adult students, one of whom has a five-year-old daughter who is also my student.

That adult was giving me a ride to the T the other day, and she said, "I think it's good for [daughter] to see that, even though I stink at violin...and I don't mean that in a bad way...that I keep playing anyway."

(Note: She doesn't "stink" at violin; she's doing very well...she just has slightly ridiculously high standards for herself.)

Observed behavior

A couple friends and I sight-read some chamber music for fun yesterday. One of them is taking a class for which she had to make a chart of observed behavior. She chose to observe the number of times each of us swore during the hour or so we played. She and I tied for the highest number; our pianist friend is far more polite (but still had her moments).

Let nobody fool you into thinking classical musicians are genteel and refined; we can swear like sailors at unexpected key changes and the like.

So close...

One of my 9-year-old students was reading the front of a tuner her dad uses for his guitar.

Student: "Korg Guitar And Bass Tuner..."
Me: That's bass [base]. A bass is a fish.
Student: Oh, of course.

Later:

Student: We didn't do our final bow (boe)!
Me: I think you mean bow (bough).
Student: Right.

Nice to hear

As I was busking outside last summer, an older woman came up to me and said, "I'm taking violin lessons myself. I started as an adult, and it's so nice to hear someone just playing melodies simply and well. It gives people like me hope."

Quote I liked

Alan Lomax and colleagues did a comparative analysis of thousands of songs across the world's cultures. I'm not going to go into detail...or really explanation...but I liked this quotation about the project:

"And Lomax's overall conclusion, supported by very many correlations of this kind, is that 'song style symbolizes and reinforces certain important aspects of social structure in all cultures' (p. vii). If this seems at first sign a rather far-fetched and extravagant idea, then it is worth thinking a little more about what 'style' actually means in this context. Style is not the way someone chooses to sing but the way in which they sing without making any conscious choice; as Lomax puts it, 'if a culture member sings at all, he has to sing in the style of his people because it is the only style he knows. It is in fact almost impossible for anyone really to change his singing style. It takes years for a non-European to learn opera; it has required half a centruy for Europeans to learn to perform American jazz' (p. 28). At the same time style is something to which anybody who belongs to a given culture responds with precision: 'any culture member can immediately sense that something is stylisitcally wrong about a greeting, a cooking pot, a song, or a dance, without being able to explain why this is so (p. 12)." --A Guide to Musical Analysis, Nicholas Cook, pp. 200-201

So that's why I play everything like it's an Irish fiddle tune.

Porter Square announcement

One of the speakers at Porter fades in and out and has been doing so for a long time.

One of the regular announcements goes something like "Fare evasion on the MBTA is against the law"etc. The speaker faded in just such a way that it once said, "Fare evasion...is the law".

And here I thought that was only the law on the Green Line.

Then there are the younger siblings...

I teach at some students' homes, so families are around. One of my students has a two-and-a-quarter (so he informed me)-year-old little brother. I got to their house, and:

Brother: How you get in here?
Me: Through the door.
Brother: The door? That door?
Me: Yes, that one.
Brother: Why you not come in through door in there? (gestures towards kitchen)
Me: Well, the only door in there is the refrigerator, and I can't come in that way.
Brother: Yeah, you too big to fit through 'frigerator.

Never mind that in most houses, the refrigerator doesn't have outdoor access. And yes, I am smaller than a refrigerator, but he's probably never seen one without all the shelves intact.

Ah, 10-year-olds

10-year-old student, halfway through lesson: Oh my God, I have a huge scab on my finger!...wait, maybe that's a tomato. I don't know. I had a tomato skin stuck on my teeth earlier, and when I tried to get it off, it got stuck halfway down my throat.

I still don't know if it was a scab or a tomato. Nor was I inclined to pursue the issue.

Back to it

I've been working at my occasional-desk-job quite a bit lately, so I haven't been busking. Next week is school vacation week, though, which means that I will be minimally teaching and hopefully maximally busking.

Sometimes I think that I should get a morning job, but then I remember that I really enjoy the flexibility of my current schedule...it's the self-discipline that trips me up.

Personal Space and the T Do Not Mix

So if you're going to get all huffy about my accidentally sitting on your coat, perhaps it would be best to make sure that you and your coat are, in fact, occupying the same seat.

Just sayin'.

Cute Student Moment

I start and end every lesson with a bow, as is the Suzuki teacher way. One of my students, during his bow, was surprised by his pants. "I thought I was wearing my black pants, because they're so hot, but it turns out it was these pants!"

I love my students.

A different thought

From a rehearsal last night:

Conductor: OK, let's start at rehearsal letter F as in...Frank...
Me (to stand partner): There's a different word starting with F that I've been wanting to say*...
Stand partner: *cracks up*

*Not because of the group or the conductor in any way, but because I was making so freakin' many mistakes and couldn't play in tune to save my soul.

Oops

One of my students threw her violin into the wall last night.

It was absolutely an accident; I was doing something to her bow and wasn't watching, and she was swinging the violin around, as children are wont to do, and it slipped out of her hand and crashed into the wall.

I think more damage was done to the wall than to the violin, but I used my "Quietly Scary Teacher Voice" to tell her that that's why we don't swing our violins. Big eyes, lots of nodding that she understood. I think the next couple of weeks are going to see a lot more diligence from me in terms of making sure my students are holding their instruments appropriately. And calmly.

Who are you to judge me???

(Title a la Dorothy Zbornak)

I was busking at Porter, playing "Sunrise, Sunset", when a guy came up and told me...not asked me, told me...to play something happier. So I switched to "To Life", which wasn't happy enough for him. I think I then switched to "Devil's Dream", at which point he said something like, "See? People like HAPPY music!"

If all I played was fast fiddle tunes, both I and my audience would probably get bored. Interest lies in contrast. And I like Fiddler on the Roof, even if it's not "happy" enough for this guy. Hmph.

Summer Memory #3

Busking in the Public Garden, a young man walked by, stopped, pulled out a penny whistle and accompanied me on the Kesh Jig.

He was quite good, and it was far preferable to people who try to sing along while I'm playing, bless their hearts.

"Not fair"

Sir, I'm sorry that life has you so beaten down; I can tell you're having hard times. But I promise that, when I refuse to give you money from my case while I'm working, standing in front of me mumbling about how it's "not fair", repeatedly, will not make me give you money.

Catch me when I'm not working, and odds are I'll find a dollar for you, but not while I'm actively trying to get people to give ME money.

And I'm sorry that you don't have a place to shower (I truly am; that has to be awful), but if I have to hold my breath because you won't go away, you're affecting my quality of life. And won't get a dollar.

Summer Memory #2

I don't mind dogs. I don't mind that people let their dogs frolic in the fountain I'm playing near. I do mind a bit when they let their dogs shake their wet coats all over other people and their violins. It's just not good for the instrument. Or my serenity.

A summer memory

Walking through the Boston Common on the way to the Public Garden, there's an area that's often the subject of chalk art. This time, there was poetry.

Haikus are silly
They often don't make much sense
Refrigerator

Reminder: I'm the adult

Since many of my students are quite young, many of them don't have total control over their phonemes yet. When this takes the form of a lisp, I have to laugh on the inside only when they tell me they're going to play "May Thong" or "Thong of the Wind". They're. So. Cute.

T Cop Tip

I was busking at Porter, and an MBTA Transit Police Officer was on the platform with a clipboard, apparently just tracking numbers of how many people were using the station during that time period.

(I assume that's what they're doing. I figure if it were anything important, like an unauthorized LED, there would be at least five police officers and three police cars using all kinds of cop equipment that they had hanging around the police officer's station. I don't know why other T employees can't do this type of work, but I know little of the ways of the T.)

Anyway, when the officer was done, she walked over and tipped me a couple bucks. I always like when T employees tip me. Makes me feel like I probably won't get kicked out of that station that day.

Hygiene on the T

I rode the Red Line after I finished busking at Davis, and next to me was a young woman who filed her nails all the way from Porter to Central.

Granted, I keep my nails short to the quick most of the time, so can someone tell me, how long does it take to file one's nails to satisfaction, and is there any reason it needs to be done in public? I mean, I can understand having a ragged edge one needs to deal with immediately, but I'm pretty sure that should only take a few seconds. I didn't know until then that the sound of someone else using an emery board grates on my nerves like it does.

Now don't get me wrong, I generally wish more people would practice hygiene before getting on the T, such as showering and wearing deodorant, and then controlling certain bodily functions when in a small space with dozens of other people and little, if any, fresh air. But I think nail filing can wait.

Also...

15 degrees is not enough degrees for me to busk, even in the subways. Porter and South Station might be warm enough that I don't get frostbite, but still.

Mad problem-solving skillz

A student gave me and one of her other teachers each a cookie-ornament-thing with our respective names on them in icing. It's a thin, crispy (delicious-smelling) cookie, and I ride the T, so I was concerned about getting it home intact.

I went to the kitchen at the school to see what I could find to protect it and encountered the other teacher there.

Me: I'm trying to figure out how to get this home safely.
Her: Oh, I already ate mine.

Problem solved!

(I ended up using a lot of paper towels and a Ziploc baggie with air in it. Worked fine.)

Cute

I have two students who are sisters, seven and five years old. I ask that my students with long hair pull it back for their lessons, just so it's out of their face. The seven-year-old was trying to put the five-year-old's hair in a ponytail.

Seven: Did you brush your hair today?
Five: Daddy brushed it.
Seven: *put-upon Daddy-doesn't-know-anything-about-hair sigh*

So not a sports type

Re: My last Green Line-related post:

Turns out the Bruins were in Ottawa that night (I didn't read the schedule that closely), so now I really have no idea why so many trains were heading to Riverside in such a short amount of time.

MBTA, thy ways are not to be comprehended by mere mortals.

How cheesy

Me: OK, so the next Twinkle variation is "Beautiful Butterfly".
Student (age 7): *thinks* I'm gonna change that to..."Very Strange Cheesy Guy".
Student's Mom: His favorite word right now is cheese. Which is kind of funny, because he doesn't actually like cheese.
Student: *giggles*

That may have been a new record

While waiting for a D Line train last night around 6:30, no fewer than eight...eight!...Riverside-bound trains went by before the first Government-Center-bound train showed up. Eight trains in 12 minutes was rather amazing.

I see there was a Bruins game at 7:30 last night, so they were probably sending a bunch of trains to Riverside for Bruins traffic, but still. EIGHT.

To the gentleman with the cane

Dear Sir:

I know that the T is very difficult to navigate when one has a mobility problem, especially at Porter Square. I also know that sometimes it's important to chat with the newspaper vendor about recent sports news, and that's all well and good. But is it entirely necessary to have this discussion with you planted blocking access to the up escalator?

Granted, it was the shorter escalator from the mezzanine to outside, but still, I didn't want to walk up the stairs, and I felt churlish shoving past you. I did say "excuse me", and I don't think I actually made physical contact (I hope), and I completely understand if you needed to hold onto something to steady yourself, but I would think that something more stationary than a moving escalator rail might be more useful for that purpose.

Thank you,

The Fiddler

And slightly belatedly...

A Happy New Year to all.

I took this whole past week off from doing anything musical (or productive); tomorrow, I begin anew. May we all have the chance to pursue our passion this year, whatever that may be.

Merry Christmas

It may not be my own faith tradition, but this is a lovely poem and there's a lovely setting by Gustav Holst.

In the Bleak Midwinter
Christina Rosetti

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But his mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshiped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give him: give my heart.

Holiday Gift Guide

So there's really no way for me to let my families know what I'm about to write without looking like I'm asking for gifts, and I'm absolutely not. Also, it's probably far too late to be considering this now, since Chanukah is over, and Christmas is a week away, but I'm writing this now for future reference.

So.

Should you or your child have a music/art/reading/whatever tutor, and should you wish to give him or her a holiday gift 'round about now, here's one teacher's opinion.

1) You really honestly don't have to get me anything. The best gift of all is a student who practices and is attentive and respectful in lessons. Although, should you be the parent a non-attentive, only-occasionally-respectful, rarely-practicing student, I am still fond of your child, else he or she wouldn't be in my studio anymore.

2) The things teachers will keep forever are handwritten notes/letters/cards/drawings from your child. I have a box dedicated to such things. Photos of the student are also a plus.

3) Gift cards/certificates are also highly appreciated. I have one family who generally gives me a gift certificate to a local music store and a couple others who give me gift certificates to a local bookstore, and really, you can't go wrong giving any teacher a bookstore certificate.

Although if this trend keeps up, I'm going to need a gift certificate to IKEA for more bookshelves.

4) Food is also welcome, although I'm picky about certain candies and such, but if I happen to get something I don't care for, it will go in the break room and many other starving musician teachers will be equally grateful.

5) Knickknacks/jewelry/clothing accessories: I'm grateful for any token of esteem, but these are risky. Examples will not be forthcoming, because I would hate to hurt anyone's feelings.

Now, all this said, should you happen to be aware that the teacher in question...enjoys the occasional glass of wine/brandy/rum/grain alcohol (I was going to say just "drinks", but that has connotations I think I'd prefer to avoid), a bottle of cheer is very highly appreciated, if that's within your comfort zone.

Merry Giftmas to all, and to all a good night!

The snow lay on the ground...

The snow was rather lovely, really, and I took yesterday as a snow day, but I had to dig out the car this morning, and now I don't want to do anything...except I didn't see my Monday students last week, and I won't see them next week, and I really do make an effort to be a responsible teacher. Mostly. I'm sure I'll feel better once I get going.

Fit to burst

I'm so proud of my students who just had their first solo recital today. They ranged in age from 4 to 8, and with one exception who just was too nervous and shy to play (and that was totally OK), they all got up and played their pieces with confidence and seemed completely comfortable on stage. And they all made friends with each other in the process, which was my secondary goal.

Also, there were cookies.

more student entertainment

Different 8-year-0ld student: When I was little, I went skiing, and I fell down. And someone who was learning how to snowboard ran over me. Then someone else ran over me. Then one of my skis came off. Then my other ski went down the hill by itself.

His mom: And yet, he still likes to ski.

(I love any story that starts with "when I was little" when the kid's age is still in the single digits.)

I love my students

So the mom of one of my students was telling me that the recorder teacher at his school yelled at someone in the class the other day.

My eight-year-old student told his mother this and said, "Yelling is the opposite of music."

I'm keeping that thought close.

Those crazy...crazies...

So Westboro Baptist, Fred Phelps' group...you know, the God Hates Everybody But Us And We'll Make Sure You Know About It people (to whom I refuse to provide a link)...is in town again, and since picketing gay people and soldiers isn't getting them attention anymore, they've turned their attention to the Jewish community.

I will link to Chris Mason's Phelps-A-Thon site, because his idea of turning the pickets into fundraisers for whatever they're picketing is brilliant.

So yesterday, they picketed several places in Boston; the only one I could get to was their picket of the Jewish Advocate office downtown. There were about 10 of them to start, which went down to four, two of whom were young boys.* So I rosined up my bow and played my fiddle hard, 'cause hell's broke loose in Boston and the devil carries placards.

I played all the Jewish music I could think of, including Chanukah music and selections from Fiddler on the Roof; they were out there long enough that I had to repeat myself a few times, and I was shivering and couldn't feel my fingers by the end, and I doubt I disrupted them in any way, but it was worth it. I took Chris's idea and put a sign in my case stating that proceeds would go to Mazon: A Jewish Response to Hunger. I think I made about $20 for Mazon. I should send WBC a thank-you note, like Chris does for the Phelps-A-Thons.

They'll be picketing the Cathedral of the Holy Cross starting in about 10 minutes. I thought about going out there too, except it's colder now than it was at 1:30 yesterday afternoon, and if I just go and listen to their rants, I'll get unnecessarily angry and won't be able to do anything productive with it. Also, I'm still in my pajamas.

*A note here: I think Fred Phelps is seriously mentally ill, and I think his daughter who's taken the role of leader is also mentally ill...even if she didn't start out that way, being raised in such an environment would warp anybody. I have compassion for them in the sense that living a life filled with so much pain must be so very difficult. I have no compassion, however, when it comes to their use of their children in these pickets.

Dude.

So I thought this guy had tipped me a very crumpled $5, which was appreciated. (I mean, all tips are appreciated, but some tips are more appreciated than others.)

When I got home and uncrumpled it, I discovered it was a $50.

THANK YOU, KIND PATRON OF THE ARTS!

Heaven help us all

I'm about to get dressed and head out for some Black Friday busking.

It's almost 6:30 AM. The Dunkin' Donuts at the Cambridgeside Galleria has already been open for 3 hours.

Carrying the sentiments of yesterday forward, I'm thankful I don't work retail anymore.

Jamming for the Dead

I saw a guitarist busking next to the Granary Burying Ground today.

I don't know; for me, that crosses a line. I know that people aren't currently being buried there, but it still seems a bit disrespectful.

More student stuff

One of the pieces in Suzuki Book 2 is "The Two Grenadiers" by Schumann.

One of my 8-year-old students took to calling it "The Two Granite Ears". Another kept calling it "The Three Grenadiers" by mistake (too much Dumas...or candy...); now he's calling it "The Three Minus One Grenadiers".

In other news, Meeska Mooska Mouseketeer! Mousecartoon Time now is here!

Check your algorithm

OK, so I just looked up the lyrics for "C is for Cookie", because I couldn't remember which other food "with a bite out of it looks like the letter C". The site pulled up the lyrics, which is right, the other songs from the "Sesame Street Platinum All-Time Favorites" album, which is right, and a list of other similar songs.

Which turns dreadfully wrong when you look and see that the second song is "Y'all Niggaz" by DMX (to which I will not link, as I want to keep this a basically family-friendly blog).

Upon reflection, I can see how it happened...gangsta rap and Sesame Street songs share characteristics of a fairly strict meter and rhyme scheme, simple harmonic structure, and repetition of key words or phrases, so they are quite structurally similar. However, in this situation, one might want to figure out a way to analyze for content.

Now I want to write my thesis on the comparision between Sesame Street songs and gangsta rap. I think that might not get approved.

Celebrity sighting! I think.

I swear I saw Cameron Diaz walking her dogs in the Public Garden yesterday. If it wasn't her, it sure looked like her...regular people don't have cheekbones like that. The only reason I'm not positive is because she was alone (except for a single photographer), and nobody was mobbing her, but then again, this is New England, and people tend to respect others' space.

I love my students

In which I relate some of the things my students have said lately. I will give only their ages; if you happen to belong to one of these students (although I'm not aware that any of my families read this, one never knows on the Internet), please realize that I post in the spirit of love, never mockery. These are all different kids.

"This is going to take forMINUTES!" --age 4 (did not mean "four minutes", definitely meant "forminutes")

"I hate zippers. They get caught on everything. Once I zippered my skin. I don't even like sliding doors." --age 9 (after getting violin strings stuck in the zipper on the violin case; neither of us knows just how.)

Me: Try putting your second finger across from your thumb.
*long pause*
Student, age 8: Oh my God. I forgot what "across" means.

Me: What does this little dot here mean?
Student, age 8: Soft. Loud? Short-long-fluffy-ARGH!

O Canada

I don't mind getting the occasional Canadian coin; I know they're basically the same size, shape and color as our coins, and they get mixed in a lot.

But I found about 12 Canadian coins all together in my case, which leads me to surmise that some Canadian reached into his or her pocket to tip me, and while I appreciate the thought, Canadian money still isn't legal tender in this country.

Things that make the Fiddler go Hmmm

A while ago, a couple was in the Public Garden having what I assume were pre-wedding photos taken, on account of the man was in a tux and the woman was in a gorgeous white dress with a red overlay and gold trim. I don't know fashion terms or I could probably be more specific.

They had their photographer take their picture with me, which while I find it flattering, I wonder why they want a stranger in their photos. I mean, I'm used to being a photo op, but not so much for a wedding.

Still, they looked very happy, and I'm always glad to be a part of a happy occasion.

I know they're smart, but...

Busking in the Public Garden, saw two smallish dogs leashed to each other. I didn't know dogs could take each other on walks.

O RLY

An older man walking past in the Public Garden stopped and told me, "I'm surprised they haven't made you quit yet."

Hm...it's legal to busk in the Public Garden (although there are rules against having music at your wedding ceremony, but that's another story); I'm playing a fairly quiet instrument, and I'm not singing offensive lyrics. Or any lyrics. Why would "they" make me quit?

I wonder if it was sour grapes, but I didn't pursue the matter.

Little pitchers have big ears

There's a stage magician who has been setting up in the Public Garden across from the ducklings. I haven't had time to watch his act, but he seems popular.

The other day, he was between acts; I think he was setting up for the next round, so there were just a few kids and parents watching him. I'm not sure what happened, but he jumped back from his table and dropped the S-bomb in front of six or seven six- or seven-year-olds.

I don't consider myself particularly prudish, but it does seem that if one is gearing one's act towards small children, one should have an emergency backup supply of not-quite-swear words for such situations.

Overheard on the Common

Four middle-aged working-class Boston guys in a conversation.

One says, "Yeah, so you owe us two bucks from Friday. We only matched two numbers; we didn't get the ball, the whatsit ball...the crazy ball."

I shall now call Powerball, Crazyball. On the rare occasions on which I need to speak about Lotto at all.

Identify yourself

Yes, I do studio work and gigs; yes, I have a craigslist post to that effect.

However, if you're going to call me to do studio work for you, please leave a name and location, or you're just going to sound sketchy and I'm not going to call you back.

Boom bike

In my years busking in the Public Garden, I've learned to tune out all sorts of beeping horns, wailing sirens, cursing pedestrians and quacking Duck Boats.

Of course, there are also boom cars, which I usually notice peripherally while busking (I notice them far too often at every hour of the day and night on our street, but that's a different story). I heard what I assumed was a boom car, but it kept coming closer instead of continuing on. Suddenly a guy on a bicycle appeared; the bike had a boom box duct taped to the rack.

My first reaction was annoyance; this thing was super loud, and how dare he inflict his music on the rest of us?

My second reaction was a realization that I'm making part of my living inflicting my music on innocent passersby; do I really have the moral high ground in this situation?

My third reaction was yes. Yes, I do.

This was rather sweet

A young man tipped me with this poem he wrote, telling me I'd inspired him. I hope he doesn't mind my sharing it; I don't know his name. I took it upon myself to re-line-break some of it.

The Why of Art

Isn't it funny the nature of things
That one day can be a tragedy and on another
We may sing

Isn't it peculiar the things of nature
That it all works in perfect harmony
Disrupted only by malice of man

So I ask to you
What beauty is in intelligence
That it may ruin that which is devoid of computation

But in fact the beauty is in what we may create
For the nature of art, not unlike other things, is pure Beauty
But Art too is a thing of nature

So with our mind's eye we can create tragedy
Or shall we sing?

A thousand apologies...

...for spending June complaining about how cold and rainy it was. On the other hand, the few people who brave the Public Garden in triple-digit-heat-index weather are very complimentary and tip well.

Human nature might not be so bad

This happened a while ago:

I was busking in the Public Garden, as is my wont, when a man nearby collapsed to the ground. Before I could dig out my phone to call 911, one or two other people already had. The guy was conscious and trying to get up, but he was clearly disoriented, so a couple of nice motherly types were insisting that he lie down and wait for the ambulance, while three or four others stood around to kind of protect him from being stepped on, since he was in the middle of the sidewalk near an entrance where there's a lot of foot traffic.

What particularly impressed me about this incident was that the man was the type who makes a living from the garbage bag of cans he was carrying when this happened, and all these people stopped to help him anyway and make sure he was OK.

The EMTs stashed the bag of cans in the shrubbery; I don't suppose taking it with them would have been practical.

Haiku for you

Sunny day to busk
Walking through Public Garden
Crossing little bridge

Gaze into lagoon
See strange fuzzy-looking fish
Take a second look

Find it's a duckling
Relieved, as I was quite sure
That fish don't have feet

Houston, we have linkage

I just put up a few links of folks in the Boston area I've worked with...they're all nice people who make great music. Note the eclecticism of the list.

Amazing focus

So I'm used to mesmerizing small children, but the other day in the Public Garden, there was an eight-month-old baby in his stroller who not only looked more like Winston Churchill than most babies, but who had a facial expression of utter concentration on what I was doing, as though he only needed the slightest furthering of language development to produce a witty, yet accurate, critique of my technique and repertoire choices.

If you've ever sat in a meeting with a professor and outlined an essay proposal which said professor thought would be an excellent topic but wanted to make sure you took certain aspects into account, that was the facial expression involved here.

He and his mother stayed for at least half an hour, during which time she fed him, and he played with some type of Big Bird baby toy, all the while checking in every so often to make sure I was still playing to his liking. He laughed with a mouth full of pureed food occasionally, so I think I did all right by him.

Then again...

Standing in contrast to the previous post, I was busking in the Davis Square T station, and I played "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". A non-inspector T employee came downstairs from his booth, settled on the bench next to me, and said, "Play that rainbow song again."

Of course, I did.

Afterwards, as he got up to leave, he said, "You saved my sanity."

Saving T employees' sanity is a GOOD thing.

Behold, The Power of T Inspectors

Busking at South Station, a T inspector told me I had to move to the posted location, because I would be in the way of traffic. The posted location is about six feet from where I was, but there's a big giant fan in it. The big giant fan wasn't on, but I'd be equally in the way of traffic (i.e. not-at-all) in either location.

So a couple days later, I did an experiment; I spent half my time in the posted location and half in my preferred location. I made as much in the first ten minutes in my preferred location as I did in the previous hour in the posted location. I don't know why, but I've found this to be true in the past as well.

Subway busking would be SO much easier if anybody were steering the ship; as it is, the Transit Realty Authority (better known as the TRA) and the Metropolitan Transit Authority (better known as the MTA) are levying a burdensome tax...no, wait...the TRA and the MBTA have each told me that Performer's Area signs are the other's responsibility, so most locations that are supposedly kosher to busk in don't have signs at all. Alewife and Back Bay have shiny new signs, but those are the only places I've seen those particular signs.

I also discovered that, according to the rules, T inspectors can take one's permit at any time for pretty much any reason, so I really have to stop arguing with them, no matter how politely. I have an issue with the fact that one person having a bad day can take away half my income on a whim, but this is the life I chose, innit?

I keep an ongoing ad on craigslist for teaching lessons and playing at events. I just reposted it and just received the following replies:

Hello,
I am writing in response to your Ad on Craigslist to inform
you that I would be celebrating a wedding ceremony with my wife who
is from Barbados . The wedding will take place here in Barbados So, I
am emailing you now asap my wedding which will be held on the July
25th 2009, I want to know if you would be available for that day ,the
cost you will charge me if you would render service for 6hours from
9am - 3pm . I will be responsible for your Transport fare from the
airport down to the Barbados where the wedding will take place . So i
will want you to give me a total cost for the service and transport
fare so we can arrange on payment.

Thanks
Michelle Patteason

(I know, difficult offer to resist, and there's nothing IN ANY WAY SUSPICIOUS about it...but wait, what's this next one?)

*****
My name is Mr Deigo and i would be celebrating a wedding ceremony
with my wife who is from Canada . The wedding will take place here in
canada So, I am emailing you now asap my wedding which will be held on
the july 25th 2009, I want to know if you would be available for that
day ,the cost you will charge me if you would render service for
6hours from 9am - 3pm . I will be responsible for your transport fare
from your location to the hall where the wedding will take place . So
i will want you to give me a total cost for the service and transport
fare so we can arrange on payment.

I will be Responsible for Your Transport fare from the airport down to
the canada
Hope to have a business with you
Mr Deigo
Jesus is Lord ..

(My favorite part is "the canada".)

*****

Well, and then there's:

How's it going?
I am messaging you regarding your ad.
I find your personals interesting.
I am nice looking female. I am coming to your area in few weeks.
and searching for a man to show me the place.
This way we could discover each other.
I am going to send you my picture when you answer.
I am coming from Russia.
Later!

(I have no comment.)

Dear Craigslist violinist-seekers:

If you're looking for lessons, I'm happy to talk to you. If you live an hour away from Boston, aren't near anywhere the MBTA serves, and want me to come every week, you don't get to be shocked when my availability is very limited by the fact that I only have access to the car one day a week. Perhaps your search for lessons should take place closer to your home?

Love,

TAF

I wrote this during the T-Radio hoopla, and I never did put it in typed form, what with the whole thing blowing over faster than anticipated. I thought I might as well share. Enjoy. (To clarify, the T-Radio spectre has not reared its vapid and annoying head again; this is now anachronistic.)

Buskers On The M(B)TA (with apologies to whoever needs them)

Spoken:
These are the times that try our souls. In the course of our nation's history, the people of Boston have rallied bravely whenever the rights of people have been threatened. Today, a new crisis has arisen. The Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority, better known as the M. B. T. A., is attempting to levy a burdensome torment on the population in the form of T-Radio. Citizens, hear me out! This could happen to you!

Well, let me tell you all a story of the subway buskers
On a tragic and fateful day
They all headed underground, but to their amazement,
There was radio in the subway

CHORUS
Did they ever return? No, they never returned,
And their fate is still unlearned
Now there's just commercials 'neath the streets of Boston
'cause the music never returned

The musicians set up in their spot at North Station
But before they could play a note,
A speaker crackled, blasted out a commercial
And the day's latest stock quotes.

CHORUS

The musicians called the T, and the T folks answered,
"Why must you make a fuss?
All those fare increases, they just didn't do it,
More money needs to come to us!"

CHORUS

Now all day long, buskers sit in the station
Crying "What will become of us?
It's cold outside and we can't play in the subway
And it's too crowded on the bus!"

CHORUS

No more guitars or singing, no more fiddles or banjos
The accordians have gone away
Now there's piped-in pop music, and ads, and sports scores
And the lotto numbers of the day.

CHORUS

All you citizens of Boston, don't you think it's a scandal
For the T to take live music away?
Let them know your feelings, contact Dan Grabauskas,
Keep live music on the MBTA!

Or else we'll never return, no we'll never return
And our fate will stay unlearned
There'll be just commercials 'neath the streets of Boston
'cause the music will never return!

Speaking of Park Street...

I realize that you, kind commuters, don't have time to dash off the train, tip me, and dash back on, necessarily, and I do appreciate the desire to tip me, but really, it's OK if you don't. I would prefer that to being pelted with coins from the train. It's surprisingly painful to be smacked in the ankle with a quarter.

There's never a dull moment, really.

I was busking at Park Street, Red Line. The busker's spot is on the center platform; there's a platform on either side of the tracks as well (in case anyone's reading this who is unfamiliar with the station).

On the Ashmont/Braintree platform, a man was pacing around, talking to nobody I could see, becoming somewhat agitated. This is not an unusual occurrence. Although it's difficult to hear that far, I got the impression that he was becoming impatient for his train.

So then he went over and hit the emergency call box that is a direct line to the T police. I heard the dispatcher answer, and the dialogue went a little something like this:

Guy: When will the next train to Ashmont be at Park Street?
Dispatcher: (answer, suggestion that this was not really an emergency)
Guy: DON'T YOU KNOW I'M A GOD???

Then the train came.

So there we have it; proof that even a god can't make the MBTA run on time.

Busking at Government Center, Green Line.

A middle-aged woman in a powder-blue Red Sox cap pulled down over her eyes was going around fake sneezing and saying "I'm allergic to evil!"

I have a hard time hearing when I'm playing, so I wasn't sure if she said "evil" or "fiddle", so I wasn't sure if she was talking to me per se...I mean, she was, because she fake-sneezed over my case and said it twice; I just couldn't quite understand her. Then I saw she was going around doing the same thing to everyone else on the platform until a T inspector had a word with her. Then she got on the train.

I talked to the T inspector, who said "She's got problems; she's gonna do that to the wrong person and get herself punched out. You can't be goin' around doin' that to people. She's uneasy."

Of course, I thought of comebacks later; it's probably just as well I don't think of these things in the moment.

"Really? I'm allergic to evil too! But it's mostly evil hamsters."
"Have you tried the new ClariSin tablets?"
"Oh? I'm allergic to crazy/ignorant/Red Sox hats."
Anything in another language

I think too much.

What fresh hell is this?

So now that T-Radio is gone (and I do have notes from the meeting with Pyramid Radio), they want to install T-TV. If there's no sound, I guess I don't really have much of a problem with it, except for the general offensiveness of having MORE ads shoved in my face...as a busker, it's OK.

This battle, however, was just fought in 1993-1995. Sure, it's been a few years, but many of the same people are still around to fight it this time too.

Hey, MBTA, want to make more money? Try, I don't know, COLLECTING FARES. I can't count the number of people I see get on through the back door at above-ground Green Line stops. There are supposed to be inspectors checking for fare evaders. I saw one once in the past ten months, and I do ride above-ground on the Green Line a couple times a week. I recently rode the commuter rail from West Newton to Worcester, twelve stops, about an hour-long ride, the conductor hanging out in the vestibule where I was sitting...and he never asked me for a fare. People are forever holding Charlie gates for their friends; I see groups of six, eight, ten people going through the gates on one fare.

I don't think the MBTA gets to complain about being broke when they can't or won't enforce the fare collection system they have now.

I have a small friend I see every week. His name is Henry.

Last week, Henry gave me a dollar as usual. Then he asked his mom for more money, and she said she didn't have any, which is absolutely appropriate.

So Henry grabbed her cell phone and tried to give it to me.

I told him thank you, but I already have one.

*****

In other cute child news, one of my six-year-old students came out with "OHmigod..." and proceeded to ramble about something his father had done. As a teacher, I've learned the art of laughing silently.

And in a non T-Radio update, a mother brought her toddler son over to get a closer look at my fiddle; she was explaining it in both English and German. I love tiny polyglots.

This is a comment I left elsewhere in response to someone asking why people would complain about T-Radio, given how noisy the stations already are:

Yeah, T-Radio was approximately 33% ads and inane chatter, and none of the songs ran more than 2:30, 2:45 at the outside, which means a lot of songs just...stopped before they were done. I'm told "Hey There Delilah" was cut off after one verse and one chorus.

As a subway performer, I'm biased against T-Radio on that basis; after sitting and really listening to it for an hour, I hate it because it's crappy radio. A fair percentage of it was just T-Radio promoting itself, and I hope the advertisers didn't pay much for those ads, because if a train came through, both the train noise and the announcement of the train's arrival drowned out the ads. I missed one entire 30 second ad because of train noise. Still don't know who it was for, which makes for very ineffective advertising.

*****

Yes, I sat in Airport Station and listened to T-Radio for an hour with a stopwatch and a pen and paper. I wonder if the musicians they play know that their songs are getting cut short, or if they'd care. "Hey There Delilah" usually clocks in around 3:50 or so, which means they were playing just over half of it. "Umbrella" (ella ella ay ay) shows a timing of 4:15. Mariah Carey's "Hero": 4:21. "When Doves Cry", Prince: 3:47 (radio version, I think). "1000 Miles", Vanessa Carlton: 4:26. As a musician, I find this offensive.

Don't get me wrong; I do understand the concept of a radio edit, but I don't know of any overriding radio philosophy that states that every song must be edited to exactly two-and-a-half minutes, and usually radio edits involve things like fades and cutting extended instrumental passages, not just...stopping.

I just found this in my inbox:

*****

Dear MBTA Customer:

Thank you for taking the time to let us know your thoughts on T-Radio.
As we stated at the launch of this pilot test, MBTA riders would
determine the fate of T-Radio. We have heard from a number of riders on
a wide range of issues including the content and style.

Consequently, as of Thursday, October 25th, T-Radio will be suspended.
While it is suspended, personnel from the MBTA and Pyramid Radio (the
operator of the pilot program) will review and discuss the hundreds of
emails received. Following a sufficient period of consideration, MBTA
staff will present a recommendation on how the comments and suggestions
might be addressed and whether a resumption of the pilot program is
advised.

As always, we will continue to try and make your commute better through
various means, and always ask for your feedback.

Thank you again for taking the time to write and have your voice heard.
Its appreciated.

*****

Huzzah! A skirmish is won, although the battle is certainly not over, and the general war has been going on for years and will probably continue for years more. Thank you all for your support; please continue to watch this space for further updates and the field notes I've taken over the past few days.

Why, I'm in such a good mood that I'm not even going to snark that "Its" in the last sentence...oh wait, oops.

Lots of T-Radio field notes and analysis to report, but I'm too tired to get into it right now.

I do feel it worth noting, however, that the T-Radio news mentioned repeatedly that Keith Lockhart was coming to conduct the National Anthem tonight, how he was coming back from the set of the new Raiders of the Lost Ark movie and all.

Turns out by "Keith Lockhart", they meant "John Williams." You know, that other, barely-known Pops conductor.

Durr.

ETA: I'm told that T-Radio did say John Williams later in the day, but I heard them say Keith Lockhart two or three times.

A couple weeks ago, I got a very delicious tip in the form of an apple and some grapes from a nearby farmer's market.

Mind you, they were given to me by a friend, so I knew she hadn't poisoned them or anything. I don't accept unsealed food from strangers...I do appreciate the thought, but there's some weird folks out there.

(OK, there's some weird folks right here, but it's not that kind of weird.)

T-Radio Notes from the Field #2

12PM South Station

There's still a huge fan in the designated performance spot, but no worries; musicians play around the corner from it. However, the fan and the escalator noise drown out the talk on T-Radio; the music is audible, but the lyrics are not. I'm OK with this.

12:25PM Radio seems a little louder now, still can't understand speech.
Man comes up, says I'm "the best thing he's ever heard in the subway."

12:30PM Man comes up, says, "You sound awesome. Great acoustics heah."

1:00PM Woman drops change in my case, says, "That's all I have, I'm sorry, you sound lovely."

1:10PM Woman signs petition, says, "I'm just so angry about this." She's written to the T; I suggest she write to Metro. (That suggestion holds for anyone who's reading this; the T can fudge their feedback, if they choose to. The more letters that appear in Metro, the stronger the case against T-Radio.)

2:00PM Man stops, tells me how his mother used to play violin and piano and made all five of her kids choose one or the other. All his sisters played violin; his daughter and granddaughter play violin. He chose piano. "I'm no Elton John."

Immediately following, another man stops to tell me he plays banjo. This man is a little difficult to understand , and as he talked, he got louder and his body language got emphatic. He wasn't threatening me at all, but one of the guys who cleans the station hovered nearby to make sure I was OK.

2:15PM Finished playing, got on train for Alewife to retrieve car. (No, I don't usually drive to the T, but yesterday, some schedules needed coordinating.)

Summary: It's possible to play in South Station with T-Radio at its current decibel level, but it's much like having someone muttering unintelligibly in your ear while you're trying to give a speech: it can be done, but it's annoying. This does not, of course, speak to the possible annoyance level of people waiting for the train who can hear both the busker and the radio.

I can usually hear the T announcements over my playing, which is good, since if anything's different, I can hear it and stop playing, in case of emergency. Yesterday started out that way, but by half-an-hour in, I couldn't hear the announcements anymore, and my volume didn't change. This could present a safety issue, not to mention a problem for folks who depend on those announcements to hear when the train they need is arriving.

After I'd finished, when I was waiting for the train myself, I still couldn't understand the radio, which begs the question: Why bother having radio at all? I assume this means they'll be turning it up in the future, which would definitely interfere with my busking: remember, I don't use an amp like some musicians need to.

T-Radio Notes from the Field #1

9:30AM Porter Square

An older gentleman drops a dollar in my case and says, "Tell them to screw T-Radio!"
My reply: "We're working on it."

4:30PM Public Garden

A woman signs the petition and says, "It's a terrible idea."

*****

Some musicians, myself included, have hard copies of a petition to stop T-Radio, and there's an online petition here. If you see something, sign something.

On a non-T related note:

Several people have asked me recently what the difference is between a violin and a fiddle.

Well, nothing. The instrument's the same; it's the style of music that's different. Some fiddlers, especially older ones, hold the violin and bow differently, but a lot of fiddlers hold it classical style.

(In doing an image search for a fiddler, I swear I found a photo of one of my long-ago students, or possibly her sister. Wow. I also found mostly photos from various productions of Fiddler on the Roof, which should come as no particular surprise. Dah dahdahdah dahdahdaaaah! Tradition!)

Metro printed my letter to the editor yesterday.

Well, let me clarify: Metro printed a hatchet job of my letter to the editor yesterday. I wrote all the sentences that appeared, but they were in a different order, and there were transitions.

I suppose this is what I get for being optimistic that they'd publish it as an editorial; I should have sent a 100-word version as well.

Anyway, here is the original text of my letter:

I am a busker, a street musician. Like many other musicians in Boston, I spend a great deal of my time playing on subway platforms. Sure, it’s physically and mentally tiring playing an instrument for six to eight hours a day, but I’m happy to be able to brighten the T stations with my music.

Apparently, the management of the MBTA does not consider the subway performers to be sufficient entertainment. They have piloted a program called T-Radio, which will play constant music, news, sports and commercials at T riders, and they will pilot it at two of the most popular stations for subway musicians, North Station and South Station.

The buskers have been blindsided. None of us were informed of this, much less consulted for our opinion. Since we all have paid permits, the MBTA has a record of everyone’s name and address to contact us.

Musicians can’t perform while the radio is playing. Winter is coming, so I can’t go outside. T-Radio will remove a substantial portion of my income that I need for luxuries like food.

And yet, the financial aspect isn’t the worst of it. The worst thing about T-Radio is that it continues the dehumanization of riding the subway. T-Radio won’t smile at you in the morning. T-Radio will never remember you, no matter how many times you listen to it. T-Radio won’t play “Pop Goes the Weasel” for your child. T-Radio won’t take requests, won’t answer questions about its music, and you can’t hire it for your wedding. I do all these things and more.

Dan Grabauskas was quoted in Metro as saying, “"I think the performers in our stations add life, color and richness to the MBTA system." Mr. Grabauskas, I couldn't agree more. But if that's really how you feel, why are you drowning us out? I would like to issue you an invitation spend even an hour with me watching your subway riders and their reactions to my music. I’ve seen the grouchiest-looking people crack a smile and wave to me. I don't think people are going to be smiling and waving at T-Radio.

T riders, please support live music and local artists. Call the MBTA customer service line at (617) 222-3200; go to the MBTA website to send feedback; let the T know that you want to keep your subway musicians.

*****

This is a much stronger letter. Anybody have any thoughts on how I can get more eyeballs on it?

Also, we all know the T feedback system is iffy at best. Please consider writing/e-mailing the papers (Globe, Herald, Metro, BostonNOW); contact your legislators (if appropriate); if you see a petition, sign it; just talk to people and help spread the word. Work is being done feverishly behind the scenes right now, but we need to keep this in people's minds from now until Thanksgiving, when the final decision will be made.

Dan Grabauskas, General Manager of the MBTA, was paraphrased in today's Metro as "saying T-Radio isn't meant to replace live performances and that the T has considered featuring those performers on the radio to give them greater exposure."

Let's think about this for a moment, shall we?

1) If radio is playing, there can't be live performances. It just doesn't work. If there's some way for buskers to go ask T people to turn off the radio when we're playing, that would be fine, but I doubt there's any protocol in place for that yet.

2) Does Mr. Dan think all subway musicians are singer-songwriters with the mic and the guitar and the whatsits? Some are. Some are very very good. Many of us aren't singer-songwriters, and no matter how good we are, we don't have CDs and our music isn't going to go with the T-Radio concept. How are a flute playing Bach, a cello playing some twentieth-century composition, a fiddle playing Orange Blossom Special and an urdu...urduing...supposed to fit in with Bryan Adams and Rihanna?

Here's another quote from our man Dan in the Metro:

"I think the performers in our stations add life, color and richness to the MBTA system."

I couldn't agree more. So if that's really how he feels, why is he drowning us out?

I'd like to invite him to spend even an hour with me watching people and their reactions to me. Sure, a lot of them ignore me, but I get plenty of smiles and waves, even from people who don't tip me. I don't think people are going to be smiling and waving at T-Radio.

T Radio update (I meant to post the preceding post last night, but I didn't).

I was not at either North or South Stations today, so I still haven't heard it for myself. However, here is what I did today so far:

1) Called Transit Realty Associates (TRA), the organization that handles the permits. The woman I spoke to had no idea what I was talking about, hadn't heard of T radio, and said there's nothing they can do. So us buskers give them money why? I'm planning to call back tomorrow and see if I can talk to whoever actually does the permit issuing.

2) Called the T's customer service line (that's (617) 222-3200) and talked to a nice lady who, unsurprisingly, ALSO hadn't heard of T radio but who was sympathetic and said she would put in a complaint.

3) Called the Metro (the free daily paper) to see if they'd accept an editorial from me. Left a message. Will write it regardless of their answer.

For a current view of this situation and a history of buskers vs. Boston authoritahs, go here.

I've spoken to a couple of my regular listeners and told them what was up and asked them to contact the T. They said they would; who knows...I think the woman with the two-year-old who adores me probably will.

*****
I sent the following feedback to the T:

As a subway musician, I am very concerned about this program and the effect it will have on those performers, such as myself, who are trying to make a living sharing our music with others. North Station and South Station are, due to their traffic volume, two of the best stations at which to play. Losing those venues would be bad enough; if T Radio ends up playing through the entire subway system, then that's the death knell for live music in the T and another expression of creativity will be silenced. I have always received a positive response from people; some of them miss me when I'm gone for a couple of weeks, and many have told me I've made their commute better.

I don't understand why this is being piloted when there's already music in many stations, and I definitely don't understand why none of the musicians affected were notified, since all our names and addresses are on file at the Transit Realty Authority, who manages the Subway Performers Program.

Please reconsider this idea. Thank you.

*****

I'm furious.

These are the times that try men's souls. In the course of our nation's history, the people of Boston have rallied bravely whenever the rights of men have been threatened. Today, a new crisis has arisen. The Metropolitan Transit Authority, better known as the M.T.A., is attempting to levy a burdensome tax on the population in the form of a subway fare increase*. Citizens, hear me out! This could happen to you!

~*~*~*~*

*For "subway fare increase", read "T Radio."

This will be commerical radio that's piped into the stations. All the time.

Here is the MBTA's press release.

I'm a subway musician. If there's radio, I can't do my job, and right now, they're piloting this in two of the busiest and most lucrative stations in the system (North Station and South Station for those of you who don't care for the linkage). The T did this without running it by any subway performers, and opposition is mobilizing, but it takes time.

Here is the beginning of the opposition, being organized by Stephen Baird.

Please, if you're local to Boston and you care at all, please contact the T and tell them this is a horrible idea that you do not want. Even if you don't like buskers, think about having bad radio blasted at you ALL THE TIME. At least now there's a chance you can wait in peace if there isn't anyone busking; T Radio will never leave you alone. Ever.

Customer service for the MBTA is (617) 222-3200. You might need to do some explaining, since the folks who are answering the phone aren't quite familiar with T Radio. Or the Subway Performer's Program. I'll be calling the agency that actually manages the Subway Performer's Program tomorrow and seeing if they even know about this.

Please also spread the word.

Now you citizens of Boston, don't you think it's a scandal?

I've found a nice spot to play on the Common just across from the State House. This will only last as long as the weather be good, but I like to think some of the folks rushing by in their suits and heels are legislators who might be disposed to think kindly of the arts occasionally.

The other day, I ended up partially surrounded by a school group of, I'd guess fifth- or sixth-graders eating lunch on the lawn. After they were done, one little girl came up and said, "If I had any money, I'd give you some." Awww.

I had the honor of playing for the Massachusetts Alzheimer's Association's Memory Walk 2007 yesterday. I had my case open to display a "GO WALKERS" sign, and a couple people tipped me. I gave the money to one of the volunteers there because I just didn't feel right accepting money for a volunteer gig, especially for such a good cause. No, I wouldn't volunteer for a bad cause. That's not the point.

Also, Elmo was there. Yes, the red fuzzy one. He's much taller than he looks on TV.

I was playing in the Public Garden with some new friends when an adorable little redheaded two-year-old girl toddled up and dropped a dollar in the basket. The mandolin player told her "thank you", to which she replied "THANK YOU!" and started bowing. Of course we all laughed; of course this made her bow more. She's ready for her closeup, Mr. deMille.

Dear Any-of-a-Number-of-Couples,

Yes, I'm playing something slow and sappy. Yes, I know you're deeply in love. No, this is not your cue to start making out ten feet in front of me. Stop that. And watch where you're slow dancing, there's a train coming.

Squeamishly,

The Fiddler

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard:

Today, a pug drooled on my foot.

A lovely day to busk in the Public Garden. The temperature differential between the sun being out and the sun being behind clouds was surprising. I couldn't get my preferred spot by the Swan Boats, since there was an electric guitarist at the entrance to the garden and an accordianist on the world's smallest suspension bridge.

I overheard one woman talking to her companions, as they were trying to lure a squirrel closer. She said, "When you really look at them, they're not all that cute."

The Fiddler knows no seasons. If a small blonde girl asks me to play "Jingle Bells" in April, that's fine by me.

It certainly seemed seasonal at the time, as it was pre-heat wave, by which I mean 'round about last Thursday.

And it was about four or five months later that the Fiddler...remember the Fiddler?...this is a blog about the Fiddler.

I have been mostly on busking hiatus for a while, but now that spring seems to be springing, and we've sprung forward, and I've been drinking more Poland Spring water, I intend to start up again, and this blog will start again with me.

In an ideal world, of course.

For now, here is an anecdote from sometime around December.

So there I am in South Station, like a good little busker, when some
guy comes and stands at the bottom of the stairs holding a "HOMELESS
AND LIVING WITH AIDS, CLEAN AND SOBER" etc. sign.

I'm not really familiar with panhandling etiquette, but I'm pretty
sure that was extremely rude. It's not as though there's any way he
could have failed to notice me. Especially since he got more money in
five minutes than I did in the previous half-hour, but that's not the
point.

I had no idea what to say, so I just finished my set and left. I'm
sure he needed the money more than I did.