Wednesday, January 13, 2016

"Adventures In Busking: A Busker's Manifesto

Johnny "Daddy Stovepipe" Watson busking on
 Maxwell Street, Chicago 1959.
I first began busking in the late nineties after the band I was playing in broke up. Busking, by the way, is a fancy term for street performer.( Much the same way sanitation engineer is a fancy term for janitor.) I was looking to start playing as a solo act (vocals, guitar, harmonica) and was searching for any place I could play in front of people and work on getting my repertoire together.

My first idea was to simply drive to Columbus (the nearest big city), pick out a street corner downtown and start playing. Being raised a good Catholic boy, however, I was brought up to never show up anyplace uninvited, much less to start making a bunch of racket and disturb the peace and quiet of people waiting for the eastbound COTA bus. Plus, having grown up a middle class Cleveland suburbanite, I didn't want to be mistaken for one of the "Downtown People" (bums, panhandlers, pickpockets, religious zealots, people talking to themselves, people singing to themselves, people peeing on themselves etc..) who we avoided like the plague on our bi-annual trips to Cleveland Indians games each summer. (As a kid, downtown Cleveland always felt like something out of Oliver Twist. I knew that Fagan and The Artful Dodger were waiting for us around every corner)
Don Partridge:  King Of The Buskers
London, England (1968)

Eventually, I began busking at a weekly farmers market in a suburb of Columbus. Each Saturday, the sidewalks of the town  would open up to local farmers and crafters, who set up their wares on long rectangular tables and sold them to the passing pedestrians. I was given permission, to set up along the street and play "unplugged" for the duration of the market. Usually, 9am-noon. At first I was extremely uncomfortable (I felt like a "Downtown Person") but gradually, I became more comfortable and began to enjoy the experience.

After I got my "chops" together, I began playing bars and restaurants and have been doing so for twenty years or so now. Although, the pay is a lot better, I find that I prefer busking and over the last couple of years I have been playing more street fairs and farmers markets and less beer joints. Here are some reasons why.

For one thing, I have never been completely comfortable on stage. It is weird to sit  facing the opposite direction of everyone else in the room, much less sitting at a higher altitude. (I always sit when I play. It goes back to my philosophy on life; never stand when you can sit, never sit when you can lie down.)

It seems to me, if you are going to put someone in a room on a raised platform facing the opposite direction from everyone else in the room, something exciting should happen. If you're going to force a group of people to look at someone, it is reasonable to assume they may see something interesting. And, with me, nothing really interesting is going to happen. (I often want to announce to the "audience" that if they want to turn around and face the opposite direction, it's okay with me, they won't miss anything).
"Tuba Man"
Seattle, Washington

Sure, I can sing and play okay and I try and cover good songs but in the end, I am just a guy sitting at a higher altitude than everyone else, strumming on a guitar and making noise come out of a harmonica every once in awhile. Building a stage seems like a lot of trouble to go through, for that.

In addition, as I get older, I have begun to feel more ridiculous on stage. My hair and beard are beginning to turn white and my nose often has a red hue to it. (You can blame either my Irish heritage or Anheuser-Bush, or both). Plus, I dress in uncool "dad" clothes and I lack body piercings and tatoos. My entire repertoire comes from the twentieth century. I play nothing from the twenty-first century. (When the twenty-first century began, I vowed to learn the first good song I heard that was written in the new century.....I am still waiting.)

When I am busking, I can play any tune I like. I have no problem with popular songs, I play a lot of songs that were top forty hits (granted, they were top forty hits fifty years ago) but I can also exclude the "bar tunes" that every acoustic guy is expected to play. ("Wonderful Tonight",
"Night Moves", "Knockin' On Heaven's Door", Bach's "Fugue In G Minor"...etc...). And I can play some blues or bluegrass if I like.
Rock N Roll Casey
Point Pleasant, West Virginia
(2015)

Also, playing on the street is an interesting study in sociology. People from every walk of life pass by, old couples, young couples, happy couples, arguing couples, business men, mothers pushing children in strollers, homeless people, handicap people, teenagers, college kids, gangsters, fake gangsters, clergy and hipsters. I am often surprised at who tips and who doesn't. Some of the best tippers; children, teenagers, moms and business people  Some of the worst; old people and (surprisingly) hipsters and hippies. Plus, I have met some really nice people through the years. Parents dance with their kids, people stop and sing  and once  a lady picked up one of my harmonicas and started playing along. (Yes, I bought a new harmonica.)

In the end, I still play a few bars every year, but I guess I would rather spend a sunny summer afternoon playing on some downtown sidewalk at some street fair or farmers market. Pasersby, might mistake me for a "Downtown Person" but at least they never ask me to play "Sweet Home Alabama".

--Rock N Roll Casey     
   January 13, 2016
   Shangri-La, Ohio
   Casey's Website
 

Phil Clark: A Pirate Looks At 40


The infamous Phil Clark
Jimmy Buffett 's song, "A Pirate Looks At Forty" has been a long-time anthem for those who dream of quitting the rat race and sailing off to some exotic island and living the life of a beach bum. While most people believe this song to be autobiographical, Buffett actually wrote the song about a Key West resident named Phil Clark.

In the early seventies, when Buffett was an unknown hippie folk singer trying to scrape a living together playing Key West watering holes, he met a sometime bartender, sometime marijuana smuggler named Phil Clark. Probably a good ten years older than Jimmy, the mysterious Clark regaled Buffett with stories of his adventures sailing around the Caribbean, drinking, drugging and romancing beautiful women.
Buffett during his hippie days

Not much is known about Clark before he showed up in Key West (some say he was an insurance man from up north somewhere) but around the keys he was thought of as a modern day twentieth century pirate. His hedonistic lifestyle was a big influence on Buffett and you have to wonder, would there be a Parrotthead Nation if Jimmy had never met Phil Clark?

Eventually, Clark got into trouble with the law and fled Key West. (After he went on the run, locals started referring to Buffett 's song as, "A Pirate Looks At Five To Ten". He reportedly drowned near Sausalito, California a few years later.

Here is a video of Jimmy Buffett and Jerry Jeff Walker (who also lived in Key West in the early seventies) reminiscing about Phil Clark.

For more information on Phil Clark check out these books:
"Jimmy Buffett:  The Key West Years" by Tom Corcoran
"Mile Marker Zero" by William Mckeen
Both are available at: Amazon.com

--Rock N Roll Casey
January 13, 2016
Shangri-La, Ohio

Casey's Website

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

The One Man Band Chronicles #3: Jeff Silvertrust

Chicago born one man band sings and plays piano, trumpet and hi-hat...Plays trumpet and piano simultaneously better than most people play them separately.... Wears cool baggy Zoot Suits and porkpie hats....Looks like Frank Zappa's long lost brother....For many years was based in Helsinki, Finland...Has owned and run his own record company...Sings great too...Also, fronts the Jeff Silvertrust Quintet...Looks like something Jim Henson created...Does a killer version of Harry "The Hipster" Gibson's, "Who Put a The Ovaltine In Mrs. Murphy's Ovaltine"...Check it our below...
Jeff Silvertrust Website