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.