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Busking a move
"Vietnam vet/Please help/God bless America," reads a jagged piece of cardboard in the hands of a rustic man pacing up and down a median at 28th and Arapahoe. "Maybe Grenada, certainly Panama or the Gulf. But 'Nam? Too young," you think to yourself as the light turns red... green. SUVs, Subarus jerk forward. Mercury approaches 95. Window down. "All I got." Two sticky quarters, a dime and a lie are exchanged for a smile and that hollow feeling that you've helped out a vet. Perhaps. "Appreciate it." Meanwhile, on the west end of Boulder's Pearl Street mall, the L.O.V.E.-tattooed fingers of an eccentric, middle-aged man toss change into an open acoustic guitar case as a dreadlocked duo rock steady, one belting out reggae tunes on vocals and guitar, the other dancing. A tourist walks by, Banana Republic bag in one hand, cell in the other. The dues-payer joins in the dance. "Pah-ting." String breaks. "I better get out of here, don't want to jinx you," he says before walking away. "I'm just doing this today. I don't do this all the time," explains the performer, who is also in a popular local band. "You should probably talk to somebody that's out here all the time doing it. It might be a better perspective." Or not. One hundred and eighty thousand spectators and 30 street performers are expected on the 16th Street mall for next weekend's 10th annual Downtown Denver International Buskerfest, featuring talented street performers ranging from Japanese candy sculptor Masaji Terasawa to Lakewood's New York Street Boys, who turn buckets, walls and construction hard hats into drums. They're performing for money (tips), sometimes more than can be made at a medium-size gig. Which begs the question, what separates "regular" artists from buskers? It all starts with etymology, of course. "Busker" is likely derived from buscare, "to procure, gain" in Italian, or buscar, "to look for" in Spanish. According to conventional wisdom and organizers of Buskerfest, "'Busking' is a centuries-old tradition of entertainers-also known as 'buskers'-performing for tips in public areas... The roots of the American busking tradition lie in the numerous circuses that once migrated from coast to coast..." Yet, despite its exotic roots, family-oriented labels, mainstream acceptance and ability to draw wealthy tourists to nondescript storefronts, a palpable stigma is still attached to the trade, which throughout history has been regarded with suspicion, often placing buskers in the same demographic as gypsy child pickpockets on the Champs-Elysees. In anticipation of Buskerfest, Boulder Weekly took to Pearl for more perspective. The Translator: "One ('regular' artist) gets other gigs and one (busker) is only on the street," explains the manager of a non-English-speaking musician playing on the Pearl Street mall in front of a table of CDs. "He's not really a busker in a sense that the guys do their shows and performances. There's a guy that is a yoga practitioner that's down there. There's a guy that has a red vest, and he usually has a bird on his shoulder. And then there's a guy who usually walks on stilts. "He plays all over, festivals. He's more of a professional musician, not just somebody who's just a street musician. He's all over. He's got gigs all over the place, but we play down here sometimes when the weather's nice-just for fun." The Troubadour: "Normally I don't do this that often," adds Boulder-native Ben Drexler, a History major at CU Boulder, trying out new material written in a small notebook that sits atop a closed guitar case (read: no payment necessary). When open for business, he can make 40 bucks on a good day. And when he's not playing on Pearl or in a park, he'll occasionally do an open mike night at Penny Lane. "I'm doing this just because I had a few hours free today. Mainly, I just come out because I like seeing people's reactions to what I'm playing. You can test out the material to see what people like, and what they don't like. "Today, I didn't feel like doing it for money, I just felt like doing it for fun. That's why it's closed today." The Moonlighter: "I've been doing Tarot reading from 14 years, and been working on the mall for 12 years," says Kirsten Muskat, who specializes in Tarot, Palmistry and Physiometry, and runs a business with her husband. "I work out of my home. This is not my main job. I do this because I love doing it." Despite having to chase away an occasional drunk, debate a fundamentalist Christian, or, perhaps, give a reading while paramedics and firemen haul off someone suffering from a drug overdose, she continually applies for one of eight permits, drawn by lottery, which are authorized by Boulder Downtown Management for those providing personal services. As long as his instrument isn't amplified, according to Ellen Cunningham, Director of Citizen Services for the City of Boulder, Drexler can play for tips. Whereas musicians wanting to sell their discs while playing may obtain a Special Entertainment permit, which is also required, plus insurance, if performers are, say, playing with fire, juggling or swallowing swords. Masseurs, hair wrappers, face painters or readers, such as Muskat, must enter the lottery for a Personal Service permit, which 39 people sought last month. This arrangement makes Boulder's four-block vein of capital and carousal a Mecca of sorts. The Nomad: "I come for money, sure, I like to make money," says pan flautist and guitarist Marko Solo, an established musician in Guatemala who spends anywhere from six weeks to six months of the summer in the States, and winters in Central America, where he also makes pan flutes that sell for around $100. Well-positioned in front of cafe-style diners at the Cheesecake Factory, Solo says a good day busking means $75-100; however, he's made upwards of $300 in one day. "I like the fact that it's free here. You don't have to get permits and licenses. In some cities you do, some you don't. "In Europe, I'm allowed almost everywhere. There's not many places in the States, and this is a good one." Beginner or big-time, whether busking on Pearl or 16th, or performing at the Fox or Pepsi Center, the difference between the man on the street/stage and the man on the median is the transfer of currency in return for entertainment, not drive-thru servicing of guilt-ridden psyches. However, the difference between buskers and "regular" artists is, for the most part, bunk. Maybe a little talent. Maybe a lot. Maybe a little nip and tuck in the performance. Maybe not. Too often everything else is a shiny façade thrown up by PR spindoctors. Or hot air. "The strangest thing that ever happened to me was a guy came and sat down next to me one night when I was playing," Drexler says of the two years he's been playing on the mall. "He told me he was from Seattle and that he used to be a scuba diver. He bet he could hold his breath longer than I could. "I won." Respond: letters@boulderweekly.com
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