It's happened!
We're home, after two years, in the birthplace of Sophie's Smokin'
Squeezebox. After work last Friday
I traded in my waitress apron for a piano dress and headed North (which is
really East and “Downcape”). For
those of you just tuning in...Provincetown, Massachusetts is where I first
started busking, in the summer of 2010, as a new and pretty awful accordion
player. My act current act barely
resembles what it was back then, before the days of painted boxes and piano
dresses and puppets. I returned
for the summer of 2011, but haven't been back since then. Because of my year off, I feared that I
would be forgotten and replaced, but sure enough a few people gave me such
encouraging statements as “Good to have you back.”
My arrival was so rushed that I didn't really have time to
emote. I expected a cocktail of
nostalgia, excitement, and a bit of anxiety, as well as that nameless feeling
of coming back somewhere that hasn't changed when you've changed so much. But later on, when I was walking
through town, I felt the smile spread on my face when I glimpsed the characters
of Ptown, both familiar and not.
This truly is a place where I fit in.
One of the main themes of the weekend was self-reflection
on how I've grown as a busker in two years. I noticed things that I hadn't before...flaws
with pitches I liked, experience-based criticism of other buskers. I'm very grateful to Tom and Todd and
the others in Edinburgh who really taught me how to busk. The main thing I learned from my time
in Edinburgh and the Fringe was that buskers are friends, not food. In Ptown, Northampton, and San
Francisco I never made an effort to get to know the other buskers, nor did I
listen to them perform, negotiate pitches, etc. It's so easy to be the archetypal angry busker who hogs
spots and views the others as competition, but that doesn't get me
anywhere. The Edinburgh Fringe
Festival felt like summer camp; all the buskers showed up every day and figured
it out. We listened to each other,
supported each other, and passed spots off to each other. That's what I want it to feel like in
Ptown this year, even though I won't go every morning.
I was pleased to see that the buskers of Provincetown are
actually quite organized with the Town Hall pitch. Maybe they always were; I rarely played there because I was
so terrible before that I didn't want such an exposed spot. Now, it's going to be one of very few
spots where Flaca actually works, since she has to be on level ground, so it's
worth trying to get it. Basically,
everyone orally signs up for a two-hour slot. It's busker code to not leave early, since we're using the
spot in addition to babysitting it for the next person.
When I arrived this weekend, I was pleased to see that my
use of the much-sought after town hall pitch was usurped by none other than
Will, a teenage busker. He began
busking around the same time I did, with his bleached blonde hair and
guitar. We both rode the Flex into
town and I felt, though inexperienced myself at the time, like I was taking him
under my wing. Now, at seventeen,
he's a better busker than most, wheeling out an old beat-up piano with the
hammers exposed, pounding on it, and filling the air with his bluesy
voice. Karen and Lorijo were on
deck. We worked out that it would
be my turn to play at 7:30, so I headed through town to seek another spot to
play until then. There was a kid
on guitar outside the taffy shop, but I paused at my old favorite spot across
from the Squealing Pig before deciding to keep going to the library.
What this spot lacked in foot traffic it made up for with
the smooth, level ground and nice backdrop of the majestic library. I replaced Flaca's rubber band because
I had borrowed the old one for something, and the change suited her well. She's never danced better. She was even hitting the bell,
occasionally! I had a
good session there, then headed over for my slot at Town Hall.
One complication of this weekend was the Provincetown Film
Festival, which both brought people into town and made Town Hall a bustling
venue, with people walking through the pitch constantly. Once a movie had started it was easier,
but the times when people were queueing up and departing seemed to go on
forever. One woman even tried to
walk between Flaca and me and nearly tripped over the strings and broke the
setup. Please.
Saturday morning I headed back into town with a big bottle
of sunscreen. This time I “opened”
the Town Hall, playing from 11:45 to 1:45, and recited the rapidly-formed
queue: me, Will, Lorijo, then this other guy. Poor Karen had to hear the news at midday that it was booked
until 8:00 pm. It was a perfect
summer day of busking, with all the quirks of sunscreeny hands and sunglasses
sliding off.
Here are the anecdotes from Friday night, Saturday day,
and also a brief stint on May 18th which was really my first day
out:
Saturday, May 18, Friday, June 21, and Saturday, June
22, 2013
1. I thought I saw Butch; a regular in the unwritten blog
of the summer of 2010. He and I rode the Flex together and struck up a
friendship. So as he cycled by I
yelled, “Hey Butch!” I got not his
attention, but that of everyone else in the vicinity. Important lesson: one might not want to yell “Hey Butch” in
such a place as Provincetown.
2. “Was that “Skinny Love?'” It was “Take On Me,” but I should look up the former.
3. “Did I see you in new Orleans?” a man asked. “Not yet.” “Hmm you seem familiar.” Ptown maybe? I
really hope there isn't a piano-dress wearing foot-puppeteer in New Orleans!
4. A man
asked if I was going to play a tune, so I asked him what he wanted to
hear. He requested “Daisy
Daisy.” I played and we all sang:
him, his wife, Anne, me, and other folks listening.
5. A guy walked by twice and smiled and almost
tipped. The third time he walked by
I happened to be playing the Indiana Jones theme, and that finally got me his
dollar.
6. Someone recognized one of my songs as the theme from
"The Piano." Not in my repertoire, but glad it was
well-received.
7. John Waters biked by me twice. He frowned at me
both times. I believe he lives in Provincetown year round, but the film
festival was on so he was definitely there for that. Hey, maybe
he'll remember me.
8. As you may remember, I've had a lot of trouble with the
owner of the Patio Restaurant in the past, who has accused me of such things as
giving his whole staff headaches. He biked by me this time and I gave him
a friendly (totally sarcastic) wave, and he ignored me. Well, I gave him
a year off, maybe he'll tolerate me.
9. I played the final chord of a song, and a man bellowed,
“Make me an offer I can't refuse!”
I chuckled politely, having no idea what he was talking about, because
once I start playing a song I space out and forget what it is. But then I remembered that I had just
played the theme from The Godfather so that made sense.
10. A guy said, “Awesome, a puppet of color!” Glad to have another vote of non-racism
for Flaca. On the other hand, a
white man noticed that Flaca and I have matching outfits, and strongly
encouraged me to make her look like me more. Like...just like me.
Lighten the skin. Eek!
11. “We saw you at the Really Big Show!” Ha! I'm famous across a whole state! I also saw a guy from Northampton who was in Ptown for a
visit. Nice to see the familiar
faces.
12. “Have you ever heard of the song, 'Mama's Got a
Squeezebox?'” No, no one's ever
mentioned that before.
13. Remember the whole saga with playing “Here Comes the
Bride” to bachelorette parties in Edinburgh? Well, they come through Ptown too. I played it twice, and neither time they noticed. I think the same-sex male wedding
parties will appreciate it more, and there will be many of them crossing my
path this summer.
14. A guy walked towards me with a credit card (there must
have been an ATM nearby) so I told him, “Sorry, cash only!” He was NOT amused.
15. I suppose I'll spoil the secret...I have a new song
which is already proving to be very popular. It is....the theme from Game of Thrones!
16. A preteen girl walked by with her family and said sort
of unenthusiastically, unsmiling, “I like your thing.”
17. “That's awesome 'cause I can't even walk and talk at
the same time.”
18. A woman stopped and talked, and revealed that she is a
puppetry professor at UNH. Lucky
UNH students!
19. Some parents stopped by with a toddler in a
stroller. I started “Funiculi
Funicula” and told the kid that this is a song you clap to. The parents clapped while I played, but
the kid just stared at me, holding his toy truck. Finally, he put his truck in his lap, emptying his hands to
join the clapping, so I thought.
But instead he used his newly freed hands to cover his ears and keep
frowning. Touché!
That night, I entertained an idea I've entertained before:
to ditch Flaca's dancing shoes and give her a mini drum set instead. It would be functional, and very hard
to create. But how awesome would a
little female drummer be? I've
mostly poo-pooed the idea for its difficulty, as well as volume of stuff to
carry around, but I'll keep it in the idea bin.
It really feels great to get back into the swing of
things, even though getting to Ptown is a hassle. When I left on Saturday a busker said, “See you tomorrow”
which she wouldn't, but the sentiment is exactly what I'm going for. I haven't been back since due to work
and now rain, so the next installment will be for the 4th of July,
weather permitting. Happy Summer!
