Per the usual schedule, I went out Friday night and Saturday morning to play. Friday night I was going to go back to the Castro, which I haven't played in for a while. I set out at 5:00, sure that it was early enough to get a good spot. It was not. All the good spots were taken, so I went to Valencia street. It was too early to start then, so I went to a favorite café and finished "Cat's Cradle."
Then I set up at 16th and Valencia and let the dinner-eaters, bar-goers-to, and random street-wanderers commence.
Friday
1. Two women walked by while I was playing Lady of Spain, perhaps the most famous of all accordion songs. One of them turned around and asked, "Was that 'Take Me Out to the Ball Game?'" I confirmed that it was not. She replied with something along the lines of "Oof, I guess the tequila's kicking in then!"
2. An older gentleman, who I quickly realized was a bit drunk, came up and kissed my hand and gave me some compliments. Over the course of our "conversation" he divulged that he's gay and 68. His name is Carl, and he's Italian. He wanted to dance, so I gave him my polkas and waltzes. He kept trying to stand right next to me, so I had to tell him that the stage was across the sidewalk, where I could see him.
3. On weekend nights mariachi bands stroll around playing for folks. I've seen them and waved and stuff, but this time a guitar and accordion duo came up to me. I spoke to them in Spanish, which felt oh so good. We compared accordions, and the accordion player revealed that he doesn't use his left hand. He does the right, and the guitar player takes are of chords so he doesn't have to. The two of them struck up a song, complete with vocal harmonies and everything. I joined in playing the left hand of mine. This is exactly what I want to have happen in Mexico, so it was good practice. Meanwhile, the 68-year-old was dancing, and introduced himself to the band as if he and I were somehow connected. A violinist from another mariachi band (different outfit) came up to say hello, and I noticed that he looked exactly like Esteban from Weeds. Eek! These are people who could be characters in my story, if I wasn't half-assing it. If I played right there all the time I'd see them all the time, and talk to them, and get to know them, and maybe play with them for real. I'd love to seek them out to say goodbye before I leave, but that would only be necessary if we had grown a musical relationship. Oh well.
4. The best yet: an older gentleman came up and said something. I asked, "What?" He said, "Play better." Good tip.
5. The problem with playing at this particular corner is that people want my money. Several people came up and asked if I could spare a dollar. I wasn't even making that much. That's urban busking, for ya.
The end.
Saturday
On Saturday I set up on 24th and Sanchez, my favorite Farmer's Market corner. It was pretty chilly out, but nonetheless a good day.
1. The parents of a little girl holding a stuffed monkey stopped to listen, and the kid didn't seem that into it. Then after I finished a song the monkey clapped. The monkey proceeded to put money in my box, and wave me goodbye. What a generous and polite monkey!
2. I play across the street from La Boulange café, and worry that they don't like me. Finally, an employee came over and said "I work at La Boulange." I braced myself to pack up and leave. "I really like listening to you on Saturday mornings! Here's a Chai." Score!
3. In line with the pleasure I feel when kids request songs other than basic kids songs, a little boy asked for "Buffalo Girls."
4. I won the "best sign award," from some lady!
Alas that was a long time ago, and I don't remember anything else. But after I played I went to the Farmer's Market because I had heard that there were two accordion babes playing. I missed their set, but I got to talk to them. They are both literal accordion babes from the calendar, one of which was Renee de la Prada, who calls herself "san francisco's main squeeze." Meeting her was much anticipated, because I knew all about her. I had googled "san francisco accordion" etc. to try to locate the photos and videos of myself that strangers had taken, to put on my page. I always found hundreds of her. I resented her a little for that, but didn't blame her, since she had obviously established herself as the accordion chick in the city. I put my slight grudge behind me when I met her, but was greeted with pure coldness. Perhaps she thinks there isn't room for another accordion babe in town. I asked what one has to do to make it into the calendar, and she pretty much scoffed at my interest in it. The other lady was really nice though, and we could talk shop a little.
Afterwards, I headed downtown to the Accordion Apocalypse store. It's only open Fridays and Saturdays, and I hadn't had a chance to go before. The shop is above a mechanic, and is a treasure trove of all things accordion. There's sheet music, parts, accordion accessories, and more accordions than I've ever seen in my life. I wanted a quote on a bellows repair, to buy new straps (real leather ones, since I've been using nylon ones that don't match my beautiful instrument), and to play a couple accordions to know what I want to look for when I buy an instrument with more buttons.
I got the same coldness from the owner from the shop. Maybe she guessed at my amateurness from my questions, and my 12 buttons maybe, and didn't take me seriously as a musician. This really bummed me out; I'm new to the accordion community but I didn't expect it to be a clique. Someone came in with more calendars to sell, and she chatted him up, telling him what month she was in it, which showed me that she was capable of smiling and smalltalk, just chose not to grant me any. These two interactions made me long for Provincetown, where accordion players are few and far between so there isn't any bullshit competition, rather camaraderie.
It was a successful trip, though, as I got a book and some straps. I played some accordions and confirmed that I do want some more buttons (minors, specifically, and an E and Eb would be nice). It was also cool to see the accordions she was working on, as I've never seen the inside.
Next Saturday
I didn't play the following week. Not sure why, maybe it was raining. Last Saturday I got an early start playing at the Farmer's Market, 9:00-11:00 instead of my usual 11:00-1:00, because I had babysitting lined up. It was nice to see the early crowd, more babies than kids. The best part was seeing my cousins Jim and Ethan (father and son) who live a ways South and were up for the day. My connections up here are all very new, so it was so nice to see people who have known me my entire life.
Since I didn't write down stuff that day, I have forgotten if anything memorable happened. The kids are always great, and I'm starting to recognize them. Carmelo and Zali came by, two kids I met my first day playing in Noe Valley. One woman took a babysitting flyer, which I had hidden in my box, and I had to tell her that I was leaving soon and she chose to leave it behind. Too bad. Wilma, my friend Marissa's mom came by.
I received further confirmation this time that "massholes" might be a real thing. Most people who walk by acknowledge me in some way, usually with a smile or nod if not a donation. Whenever I saw a Sox hat approaching, which is actually not infrequent, I planned to acknowledge it, probably with a simple "Go Sox!" Not a single one of the donners of these hats looked over to give me the chance to comment. Losers. Go Giants?
That's all I remember.
We'll play a couple more times before leaving, then it's time to hit the road!
