Fourth Fourth

Happy Fourth of July.  As in, it was one, which seems to be a rare occurrence for me.  Independence Day is great for Americans who love and support their country (not me) and for people who drink during the day/generally get wasted (also not me), so my previous experiences with the holiday as an adult were underwhelming.  Even last year, when I was dutifully planning to celebrate from Scotland, it rained. 

However, this year was great.  I can attribute it on my famous theory on busking making formerly un-fun things fun (see past blog posts about New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day, St. Patty's Day, Halloween, etc.), but this was my fourth Fourth (heh) busking and the first fun one.  I will elaborate on the sources of mirth throughout this introduction.

I began the holiday working a strange shift at the Fish in which the dining room was dead but there was an iced coffee line out the door that six of us couldn't keep up with.  After the parade we got some business, so my red, white, and blue mardis gras beads from a couple years ago didn't go unnoticed.  I hopped on the 4:00 Flex to Ptown, which was overrun by obnoxious [drunk?] teenage boys who spent the ride loudly discussing bongs and “weird-ass shit.” 

I was surprised to see the spot outside Cabot's Candy open when I arrived around 5:00.  This has long been a favorite spot of mine so I jumped at it rather than checking out the queue for Town Hall.  Marcia Mello was on the corner between me and Town Hall, but it didn't seem to be a conflict.  I stayed there until 11:00, stopping for a half-hour firework break.

Source of Happy #1: The Cabot's Candy man.  A man came out of the shop wearing an apron and introduced himself, saying that he runs the place.  Turns out he's the son of the older guy I used to see.  We discussed my plans for the night (I was planning to move to Town Hall to give him a break) but he allowed/encouraged me to stay on.  I told him of the restrictions his father had imposed in past years (that I only play Italian songs if I'm not going to murder them; that I get some lessons), and he said, “Well my father's not here.”  Excellent.  He continued to be super friendly, and asked if I could play “Paloma Blanca.”  He even tried singing it for me, to no avail.  During the fireworks I took a break, and asked him what it would take to allow me to use his bathroom.  He said I have to learn the Slim Whitaker version of the aforementioned song.  Done.  I also asked him if he'd be willing to keep an eye on my stuff while I was inside, and he proclaimed that he was going to be so bored by the fireworks anyway that looking at street level wouldn't be an inconvenience, or something like that.  Ha.  I feel bad that I didn't go inside at the end of the night to say goodbye and thank him.  I hope this is my regular spot this year.

Town was indeed mobbed, getting more crowded the later it got.  The people-watching was second to none with rare glimpses of garments in colors other than red, white, and blue (actually, rare glimpses of garments at all, since it's Provincetown we're talking about).  Some people had those baseball hats covered in sequins (I've always wanted one) and others had shirts that broadcasted annoying messages like “Keep Calm and 'Merica.”  Come on, you can celebrate Independence Day without rubbing it in Britain's face.  I could have made my point by playing “God Save the Queen,” but it is, after all, the same tune as “My Country 'Tis of Thee.” 

Everyone was celebrating and it was infectious.  The vibe was different after the fireworks, since folks were trying to beat the crowds to their vehicles, but there was a higher concentration of people since the traffic directors kept stopping the flow of foot traffic to allow cars and buses and horseback cops to pass through.  I made some extra money just from the exit crowds. Another busker setup diagonally from me, though, outside a store that was closed.  He had amps and mics and was way too loud.  It really pissed me off, since he had walked by me earlier and clearly knew I was there, and must have known how loud he was (and he kept turning up the volume...) The abundant police officers buzzing around walked by him, but didn't ask him to turn it down.  I decided to let it go, just this once, because it was quarter to eleven and the permit ends at eleven.  And I have to remember my goal of being friends with buskers.

Source of Happy #2: Seeing people I know.  This post wouldn't be complete without mentioning my awesome friends/coworkers Molly and Dylan who routinely stopped by, looking awesome in their patriotic getups.  They picked out songs, refilled my water bottle, brought me ice cream, schemed about rides back to Wellfleet, etc.  In addition to them, I saw a lot of employees of both my restaurants.  I especially liked the presence of Pearl staff, since they don't know me as a street performer yet.  I was so proud of what I was doing last night, and pleased that some of them now know what I really do. 

At times throughout the night I found myself thinking about Scotland, since it is where I was a year ago.  How time flies.  I tried to think about how Brits feel in the US on this day (surely there were some in town), and tried to lure them in for a wee chat about it by playing “Flower of Scotland.”  (It didn't work).  Honestly, I bet they're like, “Thank God.  Good riddance.”  I ended the night playing “Highland Cathedral.”

Source of Happy #3: I was playing really well.  It's not often that I feel this is true, but tonight my wrong notes were few and far between, and I was focusing on dynamics and phrasing and stuff.  I guess it was all just too fun to space out, so I was really there and paying attention to my music.  I tried some new “choreography” for Flaca too.  I'm trying to improve my bellows work, not changing direction at bad times (something that formal education would help with), so I do such things as lean over to stretch my arm further and puff out my chest to squeeze more air out of the instrument.  I like to think it improves the visual of the act, too.  It was just one of those nights where I loved being a busker, I loved my act, and I loved being back here.  I hope I have many more years of doing this.

Without further ado.....

Thursday, July 4, 2013

1. The evening began with a warm welcome from three kids from Kentucky.  They sat, listened, commented, and helpfully un-stuck Flaca's hand whenever it magneted itself to the bell's clip (the act's newest annoyance).  They gave me some ideas for the act, one of which I actually really like.  After discussing having a second puppet to be Flaca's dance partner, the littlest girl suggested that I have an even smaller puppet that Flaca is controlling.  Brilliant!  I like it, and I already have Flaca's tiny handpainted wooden tip box...

2.  A lady said “Nice tiara!” in a squeaky voice.  It was funny because of the voice, the pronunciation (ti-AIR-a), and the fact that my “tiara” is my piano headband.  Compliment accepted!

3. I talked to some other buskers that night, including two young men who had guitars and a cajon as well as a mini Schilling accordion.  Additionally, I met a old-timey acoustic trio called Locust Honey who are up from Asheville.  The three looked the part in floral dresses and cowgirl boots, and I bet they're great.  We negotiated spots and I gave them my Town Hall slot (not at all generously, since I didn't want it).

4. One of the major themes of the night was serendipitously bonding with kind strangers.  A super nice family had come into the Fish earlier that day, then they unexpectedly saw their waitress in Ptown that night.  I was struck by the warmth of the lot, and the adult manners of the kids.  I also want to give a special shout-out to Ally from Denver.  She and I both suffered through the adolescent-ridden bus ride up, so she stopped to talk.  She's here on business, but was flying solo in Ptown that night.  Too bad I couldn't join her!  She was super outgoing and friendly, and I feel like I have a friend in Denver now.  Love it.

5. I had another nice talk with a girl around my age who is lamenting her student loans as well.  We talked quite a bit, and she gave me a great idea to solve my piano dress conundrum (that there's no more piano fabric to be purchased on the internet): I can simply make a white dress then patch chunks of the old piano dress all over it!  Perfect! 

6. I had an adorable conversation with a kid I know from Wellfleet (Erica's Zach) in which I asked him “How are you?” and he responded just “How are you too?”  He told me that he had fireworks from New Hampshire and that they drove over three bridges and through a tunnel to get there.  Sounds fun.

7. Is “Good Old Boy” a band?  Something like that?  A guy asked if I knew any of their songs.

8. Here's a bad one: a middle-aged man walked by and said “Practice practice practice.”  What's that supposed to mean!?  I have many different monologues retrospectively scripted that I would have loved to deliver to him had I processed it all in time.  Yeah, maybe if you stop and watch you'll observe how much practice my act takes and cut me some slack.

9. On a more victorious note, my comeback was on time for another unpleasant commenter.  A [drunk] white man stopped to watch and asked, “Why don't you get a white doll?”  I did some quick thinking and told him, “Because a white doll wouldn't dance very well, now, would she?” Touché!  Crafts 1, that guy 0.

10. “You play in Northampton, right?  Can I request 'The Final Countdown?'”  Why yes you can, neighbor!

11. This family walked by a few times featuring an adorable blonde toddler and a dad carrying a tiny guitar.  Finally we talked, and the dad said he has another tiny guitar with a hinged head so he can throw it in a suitcase.  Good call.  He suggested I play a waltz so the little girl would dance, and after a while she finally did, in full ballerina grace.  Super cute.

12. Speaking of dancing, I realized that “Tiny Dancer” would be a perfect song for Flaca and me to cover.  Too bad I hate it.

13. I saw my coworker-and-new-friend Louie walk by and yelled his name, unsuccessfully at first. Later, I entertained the idea of simply playing the “Louie Louie” riff to get his attention.  Next time.

14. One of the fruits of the people-watching was an urban-fashion dressed guy wearing a studded baseball hat.  I chuckled to myself (and thought about two of my best friends from high school who would agree) when I considered that he must wear it so pigeons don't land on his head.

15. Inspired by some Swiss houseguests a few weeks ago who are doing a US road trip and collecting state quarters, I decided to catch up with the popular trend of sixth grade and start my own collection. It was pretty easy to keep adding on since my employment brings in cash, but it took me a while to get #50: Texas.  But tonight I got it.  Phew.

16. Some guys noticed my student loan sign and shouted across the street about the new decision to double student loan rates.  We yelled some more, commiserating, and I told them I'm already at 6.8%. One of them jovially yelled back, “So we're equally screwed!”

17. This little subtle one might be my favorite busking moment ever.  I want to learn more classic rock, so the other day I arranged “All Day and All of the Night” by The Kinks.  It wasn't nearly ready to perform, but I brought the sheet music just in case.  Once I was sick of all my other songs, I whipped out the music and tried to play it.  I became aware of someone attempting to sing along, which was difficult regarding the frequency with which I was screwing it up, and finally looked up.  What met my eyes was a perfect hippie-ish older man with long gray hair, wearing a hand-written “The Kinks” t-shirt.  Great, of course THAT guy walked by right at that moment.  Love it.

Throughout the night I was interrogating folks I know from Wellfleet on their plans to get home, since I had stayed past the last bus and hadn't fully nailed down my transportation.  I finally ended up going home with this super nice family from Sudbury that was staying in Wellfleet.  I met them because I waited on them Wednesday morning at the Fish.  And then I waited on them Wednesday night at the Pearl.  And then I waited on them Thursday morning at the Fish.  And then they saw me busking!  We spotted each other in Ptown and just laughed at the frequency of our run-ins.  And I hadn't gotten around to telling them about this third job.  The dad, there with his wife, eldest daughter, and their friend who has a house in Wellfleet, said a nice sentimental thing about how he has three daughters and so he's inclined to look out for other daughters as well.  He would want other people to help out his daughters if they were out in the world.  Something like that.  Only very well-said and touching.  And so they drove me back.  There was a ton of traffic, since everyone goes up to Ptown for the fireworks then gets stuck in the bottleneck where Route 6 goes down to one lane, and the ride took an hour.  As a result, these folks know all about me, about my past and future and family and goals.  I know all about them, about their work, the other daughters, their summer plans, their trip to Scotland.  I sat next to Katie, the daughter who was my age, which was nice.  I feel like these are generally people I know now, and I hope our paths cross again.  I bet they will, since they come to Wellfleet several times a summer.

I got home around midnight, feeling great.  My body had been pushed all day, so I felt all stretchy and oxygenated; I had made lots of money; and I was touched, entertained, and amused by all that had happened this night.  I felt really optimistic about busking this summer.  As I climbed into the outdoor shower (illuminated by a secondhand Fourth of July glowstick) to wash off that day's espresso, ketchup, sweat, sunscreen, ice cream, and colorful mardis gras bead residue, I was really giddy, having one of those “what a wonderful world” moments, as an amazing display of stars glimmered above me.  I'm already looking forward to next year!

Grand Return to Provincetown Part II

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 18^th 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 4^th of July, weather permitting.  Happy Summer!

"Your Dress Strikes a Chord"

Today really felt like summer as I sweated my way through performing at my first Wellfleet Harborfest. It was a fabulous event, marked by two columns of vendor tents extending the length of the Wellfleet pier, culminating in the main stage at the end. Local artists sold their wares, a couple of restaurants had food, the WHAT theater was advertising its summer program, and white-haired volunteers manned the raffle booth. One area was full of antique-looking marine gear, such as lures and navigational equipment, and displayed two cheesy but wonderful lamps with fisherman on them. As in the fishermen stood next to the lamp bases, with normal lampshades above them. One of the white-bearded men wore a yellow raincoat, and the other blue. For a mere $25 and $28 apiece, I really should have bought one, I loved them so. I was pleased, though, to see some little yellow rainboots retreating under a man's arm towards the end of the day. At least one had found a home.

I arrived on the pier early in the morning, huffing and puffing after towing my bike accordion trailer on its maiden voyage across town. I was the first booked act on the main stage, recruited by the awesome sound guy Chris with whom I worked at Yule for Fuel. His counterpart today was Lou, and the two were a fabulous duo given all the obstacles. See, the Harborfest budget had been cut, and the powers that be wanted to get rid of entertainment entirely. But Chris didn't let that happen, and was henceforth putting on a show with a minimal budget and no canopy over the bandstand. That meant all the amps/ipad/etc. overheating, but they figured it out. Between acts they played this wonderfully horribly music called, “Soft, Safe, and Sanitized.” Each track is a cover of a hit song, but smoothed over with cheesy strings and vibrato vocals and the like. Some, like “Like a Rolling Stone,” were intriguing, while others, like “Hey Jude” alleviated all negative connotations regarding the speaker system's imminent heat-related breakdown. Once it became clear that blasting this is Chris and Lou's little scheme, it became funny. I might even buy the CD to torture people myself.

I highly enjoyed being part of the lineup, hanging out in the the equipment van that I liked to thing of as my dressing room, and meeting a few of the other musicians. I rarely share the bill with other performers, and haven't since February's Really Big Show, and I love the camaraderie. The bass player of “Frightened” forgot his strap, so we tried to string together a few of my bungee cords to stand in, but failed. (On stage, Frightened introduced themselves by saying, “We are Frightened,” which got a good laugh.) I took the stage at 9:30 and played a half-hour of tunes, mostly to vendors setting up, but to the first few patrons of the day. The Wellfleet librarians were there bright and early, and proved to be a supportive audience, politely singing along to Ruby Tuesday. One began clapping her hands on one song, and unfortunately misinterpreted my focused gaze on her as dislike of the clapping and stopped. Really, I was just trying to keep a tempo off of her! I didn't give my best performance, because it was early and I'm still getting over being sick, but I didn't play terribly or anything. I just didn't offer any spunk or shtick.

Before I get to the busking, I want to touch on one more highlight of the day: talking to the Harbor Stage Company. I am a big fan of the WHAT. What? The Wellfleet Harbor Actors Theatre. I've seen a few plays there in my time here, so naturally I am star struck by the likes of Brenda Withers, Jonathan Fielding, Robert Kropf, and the like, the big actors in the company. Brenda and I met personally at the Fish in the Fall of 2011, and have been Facebook friends ever since. The others just saw me perform this morning. Anyway, I knew there was some uproar about the Harbor Theatre, but I wasn't sure exactly what was going on. It turns out these folks started their own company, the Harbor Stage Company or something, and are entering their second summer of performances. It may have caused some tension with the WHAT, but more theater doesn't strike me as a bad thing. This trio came by while I was busking, and trying to get Flaca work, and I was tickled to have these actors I admire watching ME perform. I was even more tickled when they brought up the idea of me somehow playing with the company during the summer. How fun that would be!

After I played I had seven hours until I had to be at work, a whole festival in front of me, and I was wearing my piano dress. I think you know what I did. The pier is set up in two halves, and between them is a row of long parking spaces for trucks towing boat trailers. So I set up directly in front of a pickup truck, my back to the festival, greeting new patrons head-on as they walked down the pier. It was a great spot to play: plenty of room, but impossible to be missed. It felt so good to be playing there, in the heat of the day, sweating everywhere, tearing up my accordion, thinking I had beaten the sun with one thorough application of sunscreen. (In reality, I'm badly burned all over my neck, face, shoulders, and arms, and even weird places like my ears and ankles. My watch burn is such that there are actually pink spots where the holes in the watch band are.) But at the time I thought I was safe, and I loved the heat.

I realized right away that Flaca wasn't going to work because the ground was slanted. I tried shimming the whole setup but it didn't work at all, probably because the ground that met my foot when it tapped was higher than the ground Flaca was on. So I ditched her and just played. This was fine, because it was a completely new audience.

Without further ado, here are the exact highlights.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

1. I got a lot of compliments on my dress. No one in Wellfleet had seen it, so I had the standard conversation about it a few dozen times. One man delivered a line about it I had never heard before: “Your dress strikes a chord!” Well played, sir.

2. The student loan sign went over very well too. Many people wished me a speedy repayment and inquired about my field of study. One woman said, “If I had $1,000 I'd give it to your cause” and another voiced that maybe a rich Cape Cod person would see my sign and pay off my loans entirely. Both nice sentiments. A third patron asked where I went to school, and when I told him, said, “You must have studied Psychology, then!” Good!

3. I love Wellfleet. In terms of time spent there as an adult, Wellfleet is even more of home than Northampton, and even though this was my first time busking in Wellfleet (not including the ten minutes I got away with at Oyster Fest 2010) I had that nice mix of seeing locals who I know and new faces. I love the support I get from the folks I know. And the surprise from my new co-workers to see me out there! One woman saw me trying to stuff things under the box to level Flaca and offered to bring some cedar shingles to the Flying Fish to give me to shim it. How nice.

4. “Pocket lint's no extra charge.”

5. “You must be good luck, I've lost my wife!” Glad to be of service!

6. One man told a nice story from his days playing brass in the high school marching band. In the seventies, this band was scheduled to play for the president of the United States, who was coming through Hartford. The president at the time had played in a marching band himself in his youth, so the band director asked if he might shake a few students' hands. He did, including this man's. Our hero excitedly went home and told his father, “I just shook Richard Nixon's hand!” The father said, “Better go wash your hands.”

7. I played the Downton Abbey theme song several times, and only one lady recognized it. She reacted satisfactorily, though (as in, totally freaked out), and asked me to play it again. Glad to have some enthusiasm!

8. One guy referred to my accordion as my “Axe.” Awesome. Gotta start saying that.

9. Newest request: Iron Something by Black Sabbath. Could be good.

10. “I'll give you a dollar for 'Lady of Spain!'” I went seamlessly into it, that tune I haven't played in over a year, probably, and he didn't even stay to listen. Glad I still have it, though!

11. My day ended with a nice visit from a fellow busker, Betty! We met once in Ptown three years ago, and have been active Facebook friends since. She plays the fiddle and busks around the Boston area, and played with Celtic bands, among others. She's really a pro, and has good wisdom about busking and music and other things, which can be seen in her blog, www.whatbettyknows.com. I didn't quite know what an amazing violinist she is, though, until she played with me today. She joined me for a few songs (which followers will know I don't let just anyone do) and improvised beautiful countermelodies and harmonies, even for the songs she didn't know. She maintained double-stops to replicate the brass riff of “Ring of Fire,” something that my five years of violin lessons taught me isn't easy. I was really blown away! Thanks, Betty!

I finally quit because it was slowing down a bit, I began to think I might be getting sunburnt (an understatement), and I realized that I should probably sit down since I was due to work that night at the Fish. So I packed up, got a bright orange iced Thai tea from the Nauset Regional High School bake sale (sold to me by a teenage girl COVERED in hickeys), put a t-shirt over my poor shoulders, and sat in the van to watch the band that was on. The one at that moment had played at Yule for Fuel with me so seemingly long ago, in much different weather.

It felt so good to pass the day in a combination of music and relaxation. It made me really look forward the summer of busking, especially since I could see one of my places of employment while I was busking, and I have high hopes for the summer. That is, once I find a short-sleeved purple blouse and a VERY wide-brimmed hat.

Wrapping Up

My goodbye to the Valley was quite anticlimactic, taking place at the Amherst Farmer's Market once again.  I envisioned my final busk taking place at the usual spot in Northampton, but for various reasons (conflicting events, inflexibility of pitches, and other engagements), I stayed on this side of the river.  It was certainly convenient, but I didn't get the chance to say goodbye to my favorite people who hang around: E, Dan, that one friendly beggar, the girls who come in from Springfield, etc.  Not to presume that these people would care about my imminent departure.  And so I baked under the sun (this time having taken precautions) for a mere two hours until I quit to have lunch with friends.

And so I conclude this chapter of my busking career with a mere five anecdotes.  Then, time to pack.

Saturday, May 4, 2013
1. A minivan was one of several cars stopped at a red light.  I heard the door slide open, and a little boy jumped out, ran over to me, and dropped a dollar in the box.  The light changed, and he ran back and closed the car door just in time.

2. "I bet that skirt isn't an accident!"

3. A guy tabling for green energy caught me nibbling on a carrot and asked, "Do carrots make your fingers stronger?"  I hope so!

4. A few weeks ago, in Northampton, some Girl Scouts were selling cookies.  They walked by a few times, finally giving me a few thin mints as I packed up.  These same girls were back, and recognized me.  I heard them whispering to their other friends as they arrived, "It's the lady we saw in Northampton!!!!!"

5. Someone talked to me about his favorite Scottish band, Runrig, and advised I look them up.  I plan to.

And that is all, can you believe that?  Goodbye, Valley, and Hello, Provincetown!

"Giving Humans a Good Name"

Today’s busking was really close to home.  Literally.  Setting up in Amherst broke a precedent of keeping some distance between my upbringing and my current career, and boy am I glad it did.  This was one of my favorite days busking.  New places are so refreshing, even if they're just across the river from regular places.  Some people had seen me in Northampton or at the Winter Market, but otherwise I saw new faces, new reactions, and a new landscape.  I had the pretty brick town hall behind me, the sadly-abandoned-but-still-cherished Jeffrey Amherst Books in front of me, and They Might Be Giants' esteemed mass of incandescent gas/gigantic nuclear furnace (the sun, yeah) above me.  Forgetting that faces and shoulders aren't the only things that burn, I'm quite pink.

I managed to get a few of the technical difficulties under control before heading out, and Flaca mostly worked.  But then she didn’t.  The thread winding the thin cord to the thick came unraveled, so I had an extra ten or so inches of string that really confused me.  Once I noticed and fixed that, the upper pulley fell out so I had to empty the box, turn it upside-down, and hammer it back into place using a screwdriver.

Despite this setback, it was a lovely day which even made me question my plan to leave the Valley.  Next door to the Farmer's Market there was a Sustainability Fair, from which people were leaving with reusable canvas bags full of energy saving lightbulbs, anti-Vermont Yankee pins, and "Eat More Kale" stickers.  (Note: I tried desperately to find an "Eat More Kale" sticker at the fair, but struck out).  Children walked by eating the market popsicles I used to eat (although I can no longer have bananas, which was my favorite), and a high school classmate I ran into helped me remember the good ol' days when those popsicles cost fifty cents.

As I ran into even more people that I have known in my life than I do in Northampton, from neighbors to teachers to camp counselors, I found myself reminiscing not about the Valley as a whole, but about Amherst.  Where only the "H" is silent.  (Damn, that would be a good name for this post, too!)

Saturday, April 27, 2013

1. “Twin Peaks” and “Don’t Stop Me Now” are both songs that have gotten way more attention in Europe than in the U.S. “Twin Peaks” got its glory last weekend, and the latter did today.  One young man called “Don’t Stop Me Now” his “favorite song ever,” and another guy said, “Thanks for the Queen!”  I guess Amherst is cooler than I thought!  No one recognized TP, though.  Folk did sing along with “I’ve Just Seen a Face” and “Ruby Tuesday.”

2. A man told me about a band that plays every Tuesday night at a bar in Brooklyn, on 9^th and 6^th Avenue, called “Barbes.”  The band is called “Slavic Soul Party” and combines traditional Slavic music with like funk.  New York friends, you should go and report back!

3. That same guy recognized “Werewolves of London” and had me play it on someone’s answering machine.  Cooool.

4. Some people informed me of their friend/daughter’s very popular Youtube video: a cello quartet known as “Break of Reality” (I think) playing the Game of Thrones theme song.  I’ll have to check it out, and definitely learn that song!

5. One lady saw my student loans sign, and added “One Squeeze at a Time.”  I love that.  It would have been the title of today’s post if something else wasn’t, so I’ll have to remember it for another.

6. I had an annoying interaction with a man.  He came by as I was repairing the setup, and offered to help.  That’s nice, but he couldn’t have helped.  So after I refused his offer he hovered anyway, blocking my light, and made outdated suggestions on how to improve the setup.  I say “outdated” because he suggested things that I used to do but have since improved, like using fishing line for string and eyelets instead of pulleys.  Ahhhh!

7. A lady said, “You’re giving humans a good name!”  I could have dropped everything in hugged her.  Of all the compliments I’ve gotten, this is the one that made me feel the most appreciated and proud.  I mean, you don’t do much better than that.  In the low moments, I will remember her and remind myself of that.  This was especially good because I was once told, “You’re giving Scotland a bad name” or words to that effect.  Glad they’ve canceled out.  Thank you, mystery lady!!

Also, she asked if I’ve read Julius Caesar.  I haven’t, but she said that my Flaca reminds me of her doll of Sinna (?) the jester (?) from JC.  Cool!

8. I had my first celebrity run-in while busking, if you can call it that!  Not quite as good as Stevie Wonder walking by while I play one of his songs or the like, but I met….Dean!  You know, Dean’s Beans Dean!  He’s super friendly, and a patron of the arts.  Especially because one of his daughters is in music school.  Supposedly he saw me and said, “I’m going to give her a dollar” and his wife said, “She’s a musician, give her five dollars!”  So he did.  It turns out Dean’s Queen (heh) is a Clarkie as well!  And a psych major, if you can believe that.  Really nice people.

9. My new favorite moment ever: I was playing the Tetris theme song and I realized a lady was singing along.  In Russian.  You see, the Tetris theme song is really a Russian folk song.  And so I kept playing and this lady with a beautiful voice kept singing along, with her husband correcting the occasional word.  Wow!  They asked if I know any other Russian songs, and I said I didn’t.  They asked how I knew that one, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them it’s the Tetris song.  So I said I had learned it and liked it and learned it by ear.  The woman says she likes to learn songs by ear, too.  So awesome.  The husband maintains a web database of Russian songs at www.Russian-rekords.com

10. Someone told me about another popular Youtube video, featuring a female ventriloquist/puppeteer/comedian who manipulates people’s faces somehow.  Like random audience participants.  I’ll have to look it up!

11. Ran into an old elementary school music teacher, which is always fun!  I was pleased that she recognized me.  It turns out she had come across my Downton Abbey Youtube video, and requested I play it.  This prompted a conversation about Matthew with a couple of passersby.  Boo-hoo. 

12. Someone promised to bring me a piano key belt next weekend!

13. I played “Ring of Fire” and someone thought it was in a weird time signature, like seven.  Uh-oh, guess I should work on my timing.

14. A super cute vendor who I know from the Winter Market gave me a red tulip. <3

15. Lastly, as I was packing up, a lady gave me a tenner.  Then another person did.  Sorry Northampton; I LOVE AMHERST!

I was going to head into Northampton for the afternoon, as I usually do, but I decided not to.  I was done for the day.  And it was such a lovely day, I wanted to end on that note, rather than a turf war if that's what awaited me across the Calvin Coolidge Bridge.  I only have one more Saturday in town, and I'm definitely going to spend the morning in Amherst.  I'm really going to miss this place.

For Boston, For Boston

Today was just what I needed.  During such a week of extremes, I needed a neutral day.  The weather wasn't extreme.  I didn't use Flaca so my body didn't feel extreme.  I wasn't hungry, nor did I need to pee.  As far as busking goes, it's hard to get any less extreme than today.

The overarching theme of the day was approval.  Often buskers get comments insinuating that they are homeless, suggesting that they get a job, or otherwise implying disapproval/a lack of understanding.  But today, people got it.  They got it and they approved.  Countless people told me to keep it up, several strengthening it by saying such things as "I mean it" and "Do this for as long as you can."  One young man contradicted my judgement of him based on his preppy attire and said, "Don't ever stop."  (When I passed him later, on my way to the car, he reprimanded me for packing up.)

I must introduce today's post, of course, with my reflections on the Boston bombings and its relevance to a busker.  I was in a weird mood Saturday morning.  The last five days were chock-full with emotion-inducing events.  A relative died, the bombings occurred, I got the job I wanted for the summer, I met my new baby cousin, I radically changed one of my plans for the summer, the lockdown occurred, and then I found out that two of my friends are conspiracy theorists who considered the incidents in Boston to be not a tragedy, but a ploy.  That was the most shocking news of all, but the cocktail of all these emotions made me want to go busk.  Although I'm not and never have been a Bostonian, I spent a couple of weeks in Boston busking as an elf, and I have fond memories of beginning that chapter a mere few feet away from where the bombings would occur.  My way of coping with all of this was to go play.

I decided not to use Flaca for a variety of reasons.  Mainly, I just didn't feel like it.  My act featuring Flaca is entertaining, but not passionate.  I didn't feel very entertaining.  Also, when I use Flaca my main emotion is boredom, and I didn't want to be stuck with my thoughts while I rotated the small repertoire that I use with her.  With the accordion, I can channel emotions through the music, playing my most passionately.  Also, my just-accordion repertoire is long, so I don't repeat a song for a long time and it goes much faster.  Today, if you factor in talking, it took an hour and a half to play through everything once.  I make less money when I don't use Flaca, but it was worth it.  Additionally, she wasn't working very well last week.  I changed one offending cable this morning, but she required other tweaks to be her full self.

The bombings and the aftermath have put me into a pro-human-unity mindset.  Not to say I wasn't in one before, but after a tragedy I feel the desire to hold both my loved ones and strangers a little closer.  I think this is the reason for the sudden approval from everyone, and general air of kindness from more people than usual.  Additionally, I've never seen so much Boston sports gear!  Everywhere I looked it was Red Sox and Celtics, mostly, and I wished I had worn my Red Sox earrings.

I know atrocities happen worldwide on a daily basis, and I do think Americans could improve their knowledge of current events/take more action to show support/oppose US involvement overseas.  I am guilty of taking local news a lot harder, and posting about it on social media sites, than I do news from abroad.  It's a lot more real in our backyard.

Anyway, my heart has been in Boston, so I tried to figure out "Sweet Caroline" to play on the streets this afternoon.  I sort of forgot how the verse went, but managed to wing it okay.  No one said anything, but it made me feel good.  In the immortal words of Big Papi, "This is our &%$#!@* city!"

Saturday, April 20, 2013

1.  The day began very interestingly, when a big question was answered.  As I was setting up, a young woman asked, "Can I talk to you about your puppet?"  When I said yes, she calmly said "I'm uncomfortable because your puppet is black and you're controlling her."  Aha!  I have been wondering if people feel this way.  JP warned me that the act would come across this way, but I hadn't received negative feedback yet.  I mean, I know she's Mexican but others don't (not that that's any better).  The whole thing was a really nice interaction, because she wasn't angry about it and I wasn't defensive about it.  (Here's another example of the post-tragedy unity thing.  Maybe a week before I would have gotten defensive.)  I thanked her for bringing it to my attention, and she thanked me for being receptive to it.

I have therefore decided that my next puppet is not going to be dark skinned.  I do need to custom design a new puppet that moves exactly how I want her to move, so the question arose of whether or not I'd try to recreate Flaca.  I felt like making her light-skinned would be offensive since the idea of the new puppet was to "improve" the old one.  On the other hand, I was worried about our discrepancy in race, and didn't want to do all the work of making a new one just to continue offending people.

I talked about this to a friend, and he suggested giving her skin that isn't associated with standard humans.  Make her green, she can be a Martian.  (I said that then I'd imply Earthlings are the superior species of humans, so he suggested making her an Earthling and I could be the Martian.)

Anyway, I'm curious on other opinions.  Are other people concerned about the race issue with Flaca?

2. "You're the first person under fifty I've ever seen playing one of those!" Cool, but where have you been??

3. I had a really nice interaction with a middle-aged couple, including a Clark Alum!  He used to play the accordion, and his [wife] had heard me play "Paint it Black" before.  Today, she asked me to play "PIB" for her husband, and he seemed to like it.  He had only ever played traditional accordion songs on his, but one day a friend gave him a Beatles songbook for the accordion and all that changed.  I asked if he still has his accordion, and he says he does, although is first accordion was stolen in college (that's how Clark U came up).  Someone came in the window of his first floor room in Sanford, on Spree Day, and took it right from its case (which didn't fit out the window).  Boooo!  Hopefully he'll start playing accordion again, something his wife would like, and take me up on my offer to send over my arrangement of PIB!  These were such nice people.

4. A man asked if I could play "Roll Out the Barrels," and said it was his favorite drinking song, even though he doesn't drink anymore.  So I played it, and he suggested I check out the new music store above Jake's and see the electric harpsichord.  Cooool!  It was a big day for Barrels, since another man requested it too, then didn't stop to listen.  Ah, well.

5. A young woman asked, "Do you know anything Slavic?"  Nope!

6. It was a very big day for Twin Peaks.  All three times I played it someone recognized it!  One such man and his girlfriend (?) stopped to listen, and I told them I've been playing it more often since I'm in the middle of watching the series for the second time.  The man said, "Me too!"  I asked him where he is in it, and he said, "In the dullest part of season two."  Yep, me too.  But both of us are trucking through it so our girlfriend/dad sees the end.  I love playing "Laura's Theme" for people who know the show, like these ones.  Good job, America!

7. This one family walked by smiling.  It really stuck in my memory, because all six of them gave me these amazing, huge smiles, and they all looked alike.  Mom, Dad, three sons, and a daughter.  Wow!  I felt like on the Sims when the green happiness cone fills up.

8.  A guy stopped by and asked if I wanted to play at at party.  A joint birthday party, "no pun intended" (Because it was 4/20 and Extravaganja was happening in Amherst).  Apparently it was happening in a field, and there would be kickball.  I thought about going, but didn't in the end.  "I appreciate your squeezebox," he said before walking away.  Pun intended?

9.  A woman walked by with her corgi puppy who I had seen a few times.  Today, she used treats to try to get the dog to sit in front of me and listen.  "She needs culture!" the woman insisted.  :)

10. I saw one dollar in the box that appeared to be accordion folded....heh heh.

11. Speaking of dollars, remember a few weeks ago when this guy came by and stamped all my bills with "Not to be used to bribe politicians?"  Well, I got one of those back in the box.  Which means that the Valley is truly circulating money and people are supporting local businesses.  I love that!

12. Today, for the first time, I started listening to the bass of my songs.  I noticed it first on "I Believe (When I Fall in Love...)."  I love the bass!  From now on, when I'm bored playing songs, I'm just going to listen to the bass.  I love bass!

13. I played "Chariots of Fire," then realized it might be inappropriate so soon after the Boston marathon bombings due to the theme of competitive running.  Hmmm, what do you think?

14. The host of the Really Big Show came by, and I was happy that I was playing something he hadn't heard.  The past few times he's walked by I was coincidentally playing the songs I played in the show, and I wanted him to know my repertoire is bigger than that!  I'm sure he didn't notice, but I felt good about it.

15.  A man walked by pushing a stroller with someone very talkative in it.  I guess the kid had complimented the backward-facing design of the stroller, since I tuned in when the dad was confirming, "We can walk and talk and have a proper conversation!"  They saw me, and had this conversation:
Kid: What's that?
Dad: That's called "Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox."
Kid: I don't know what is that.

16. While I was figuring out Sweet Caroline, a local man who I see every week came by, and I told him of my intentions to play Boston songs.  He asked me if I knew the Boston College fight song, which he said is easily improvised on.  I didn't, so he sang it, helping me to find the notes.  That would have been good to learn!  "For Boston, for Boston, We sing our proud refrain!"

17. As I was packing up, and had Flaca lying around next to the accordion, I heard a woman say, "Sorry I missed THAT!"  :)

Lastly, some good news about today is that my dress is somewhat repaired!  My piano dress is in rough shape, mainly because of a giant hole in the back that wore through from wearing my big backpack in Europe, as well as sitting.  I tried to patch it, but it failed.  I wanted to just make a new dress, with such improvements as lining it to prevent more holes, and making it more modest both at the hemline and in the shoulder region for sun purposes.  However, the fabric was discontinued and I struck out with another company online that advertised similar fabric but didn't have it.

And so I raided my stash, and saw that I had enough of the original piano fabric left to apply a massive patch to the whole lower back region.  It felt great to play without that breeze coming through the dress!  I daresay the dress is going to last a little longer.

Now, my next project is to make a little sign bidding farewell to Northampton.  Only two more Saturdays!  Till next time.

My Secret to Stovetop Chai

Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox presents a new series: Things That Get Me Through a Day Busking

Today's topic: CHAI

Is there anything that hits the spot more than a hot mug of sweet, spicy chai?  No, there isn't.  And that is why it singlehandedly causes me to violate my "no caffeine" lifestyle.  Two years into this life change, I found myself craving chai this winter, and I've succumbed to the habit.  However, in an attempt to save money, I decided to master home-brewing, since a 12-oz cup of chai from a café leaves you upwards of $4.00 poorer.

(Chai fans who come across this are going to be VERY confused when they see the nature of this blog.  No, it's not a cooking or home-keeping or chemistry blog, but solely a street performing blog.  Sorry to disappoint you!)

So here is my recipe that I've come up with for stovetop chai that does the trick.
Time: 5-6 minutes.  Yield: 2 mugsful

My recipe makes two mugsful (because you're only using "half" a tea bag), so I simply put the second half of the pot in a mug in the fridge for the next day.

Ingredients:
-1 mugful vanilla soymilk (or use another milk with a splash of vanilla)
-1 mugful boiling water
-1 black tea bag
-Cardamom
-Cloves
-Cinnamon
-Ground ginger
-Ground black pepper
-Honey

(The order you add things doesn't matter to me.)

1. Put the kettle on to boil
2. Measure a mug of vanilla soymilk, transfer to small pot, turn on low to medium heat
3. When the kettle boils, brew a mug of black tea, to your desired strength (I keep mine weak to avoid getting hooked on caffeine again) (I use the same mug I used for milk, just rinsed out)
4. When your tea is ready, remove the bag and pour it into the milk
5. Add spices, stirring with a whisk:
     -A tiny bit of cardamom (like, tap the jar once)
     -A tiny bit of cloves
     -A little bit of cinnamon (tap twice)
     -A generous amount of ginger
     -2-3 grinds of black pepper
6. Add a generous teaspoon of honey

7. Taste!  Perfect chai, in my opinion, is sweet at first, but then spicy at the back of your throat.  If it's not sweet enough, add more honey.  If it's not spicy enough, add more ginger and black pepper.  If it's STILL not spicy enough, then maybe you should have put more spices in.

And you're done!  Drink half now and let your mom drink the other half, or put the other half in the fridge for the next day to microwave, saving yourself some work.  Since you're only consuming half a cup of tea, it won't wreak total havoc if you're sensitive to caffeine like I am.  I still avoid it late in the day, though.

Voilá!