Over the past Spring in New York, I spent time busking in Central Park with some old friends, many of whom I haven’t played with in years. This is somewhat of a full circle for me, having clocked up many hours in the park through my first year in NY, busking to cover my rent. And, well, here we are again. It goes without saying that performance opportunities this year have been as scarce as toilet paper in a pandemic supermarket, but I can’t tell you how much joy I got from playing for people again—people appreciative to hear music in a city all but dried up.
Those first days I spent busking in the parks and subways feel like a lifetime ago. The busking world was a world unto itself, with its own hierarchy and ground rules. For example, there was a busking hot spot in Central Park near the zoo which was was great for foot traffic. It was so desired, that musicians used to sleep on the park bench the night before, to lay claim for their band the next morning.
And to the extreme: fist fights would sometimes break out over who had a certain spot. I once even had a colleague go to hospital with a broken jaw. Yes indeed, the busking world is no place for the weak-stomached.
But in all fairness, most of my busking time was fun, positive, and a good way to brush arms with celebrities. Like the time Owen Wilson dropped a $20 while riding by on his bike, or Alec Baldwin tipped us walk
