When Dave Kane decided to panhandle on Queen St over the summer break, we asked him to record his experiences.
At one time - okay, it was the 80s - I rated myself as a singer-songwriter. Other things came along and before I realised it, it was the 10s. And then movies like Crazy Heart, Once and even Susan Boyle's success made me think it's never too late to re-launch a well-stalled musical career.
I hadn't been busking for over 20 years. But the other day I was sitting in my apartment, belting out some old tunes on my guitar, and I thought: rather than torturing my neighbours I could walk a block down the road and possibly get paid to practise.
It ended up a great plan. After two weeks of playing up to seven hours a day on and around Queen St I'm now a busking addict, the tone and pitch of my voice has improved no end and I've learned a bunch of my favourite songs backwards. And learned a few not-so-favourite songs, but you'll have to wait for those to come around on the guitar.
The first thing I noticed was how interested people were in the amount of cash I had in my case, as if we've all become conditioned to equate talent with the ability to accumulate coins. The idealist in me was immediately offended, but I will admit that over the next few days I also became interested in what was going in the case.
After my first day I was hoarse, had sore fingers, bloodstains on my guitar (which will remain) and was immediately aware that my dirgy country tunes needed brightening up a little.
Day two, I was ready with some new tunes. I thought I was better prepared until I broke a string during my first song and had to walk back up the big hill to the apartment to fetch more.
The next day I forgot my guitar strap and took another walk up the big hill after I tried playing sitting down and found my legs kept going to sleep. Perhaps it was the music.
The way I was swaggering home with numb feet, people must have assumed I had taken inspiration from a spiritual sauce. (Mental note: learn Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb.)
I initiated a ritual that meant I couldn't leave the house without pulling out my spare strings, guitar strap, picks and "seed" money out of my bag before I left my flat. Add this to checking all the doors were locked, the lights were off, the door to the bathroom was closed and that I had to be holding my keys when I pulled the front door closed behind me and I was well on the way to having a case of OCD that any tortured artist would be proud of. (Mental note: learn Vincent, Don McLean's paean to Van Gogh).
Over the next few days I had several simply lovely encounters with children; they'd smile, laugh and sometimes even danced. Kids are gold to a busker. They have an amazing ability to extract money from Dad's pocket and drop it in my case. I even noticed babies would stop crying when they came past.
For a brief moment I thought about learning a Wiggles song, then my invisible friend, the idealist, raised his head once more and this time I let him win. (Mental note: learn Willie Nelson's Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys. Realised how many lyrics there are and learned an Eagles song instead).
By day four or five I knew some songs so well I found myself daydreaming while singing - possibly a risk as a typical daydream would include an internal commentary on who was walking past, that I needed to get toilet paper or if I had made enough money for a beer. I was starting to worry that I was singing my shopping list or, worse, inner observations on passersby.
Thing I have learned from busking: I will never travel with a girlfriend. Travellers' arguments seemed to destroy any harmony I was trying to create.
I even had a couple stand and argue passionately about just how much they should give me. I thought about it, but decided it wasn't my place to help them sort that one.
I did have a particularly lovely moment as a couple embraced and kissed as one departed on the airport bus while I was singing John Denver's Leaving On A Jet Plane. It's not quite the sentiment of the song - but for a dollar, I'll take it any day.
The council staff who make Queen St their place of work are a great bunch of people, helping travellers and locals alike.
On my first day I was busted by the busking police. Seems I needed a licence.
I went to the council office to find out it was free and I didn't need to audition. The regulations banned me from using any pyrotechnics in my act, but I could use magic tricks - with no flames. (Mental note: don't learn The Final Countdown or any Kiss songs).
Busking is an amazing way of meeting new people and old friends. Some time ago I ran into Andy busking outside the ANZ. His Facebook page had said he was in Canada, so I was a little surprised to see him.
Andy and I had worked on a couple of recordings together a long time ago. He's now a rather unique professional musician: he doesn't draw a benefit, making his living mainly from playing on the street as well as regular gigs at The Fiddler Irish bar on Wednesdays and Fridays.
Andy's busked in New Zealand and overseas for more than 10 years so was a great help to me. I minded his gear a couple of times when he needed a break and he let me use his rig to try to earn a few coins.
Andy has used his time playing on the street to become an amateur anthropologist; his observations on the human condition would rival any scholar's.
But it's his playing you should stop and listen to: Andy is an exceptional musician. It looks like we may be working together again at The Fiddler on Wednesday nights.
Money isn't the only thing you can offer a busker. I received several lunch invitations, cigarettes, sweets and a piece of Sal's pizza was placed carefully in my case. A lovely lady even bought me a whisky - to help soothe my throat.
Some people can make a living out of performing on the street, but I have just done a quick analysis of how I went over the last couple of weeks. I walked an average of 4km a day, strummed my guitar about 187,000 times (counting only the downstrokes), lost 3kg and 5cm off my waist and averaged about 80c a song.
Although there is instant gratification in having a coin tossed into the case at the end of a song, if I wanted to cover my current expenses I would have to play 265 songs a day. (Mental note: keep day job).
My last full day of busking was great. A couple of photographers were taking shots, making passersby believe I was a big shot, and I got an audition to play at the Bluestone Room. Hopefully, they will offer more than 80c a song.
The fact is: I was a bit broke after Christmas, so thank you, citizens of Auckland, travellers, children and those who couldn't really afford to give but wanted to all the same.
Footnotes
Benjamin Franklin was a street poet. There is video of Bruce Springsteen busking. Sting has busked (and was not busted by The Police). In 2008, Tom Jones busked outside his show at the Royal Albert Hall to raise money for a charity. Hayley Westenra was discovered busking in Christchurch. The list of famous buskers is almost endless.
What buskers really want
1. I'm not going to leave you with an impassioned plea to give to buskers. But to my dear friends, the street preachers - if you're going to share the love with a busker, first share some coins.
2. If you need directions, wait until the end of the song.
3. If your wee one's got a wail on, park the pram next to the man with the guitar. They'll be at peace in no time.
Turning on
My passing notes to would-be buskers:
1. Learn a couple of crowd-pleasers. Peaceful Easy Feeling is always a winner. So is Angel of the Morning. "Just brush your teeth before you leave me, baby" is good advice before entertaining the public.
2. Watch out for people who text and walk. They will walk into you mid-song.
3. Fish some money out of your case from time to time and give to someone who may need it more than you. I found what I gave away came back tenfold, in many ways.
Tuning in
Busking rules are among 158 bylaws inherited by the Auckland Council. Until the bylaws are brought into line with each other, old rules apply in each former council area.
Ex-Auckland City: Street performers need a free licence. Anyone over 14 (or younger with parental consent) can get a licence but must comply with all the conditions in the code of conduct to keep it. Valid for 12 months.
Ex-Rodney: No licence but buskers may be asked to cease by an authorised officer.
Ex-North Shore: Permit required (though the council can waive this). Any busking considered disturbing or annoying must stop when instructed by an officer.
Ex-Waitakere: Written approval with prescribed fees.
Ex-Franklin: Permission required from owners/occupiers of business premises outside which they intend to perform.
Ex-Manukau: Buskers may perform provided they comply with the requirements for busking. They must stop if directed by the council and may not create a nuisance.
Ex-Papakura: Written permission required.
Anyone wanting to find out more about the rules in their area should phone the Auckland Council, (09) 301 0101
He's the guitar man
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