–– Week 17 ––

“Get back here and sing for your supper!” – Anonymous

It’s not possible for me to afford seeing the working girls each week, with that in mind i walked the main strip Friday and Saturday night. These two nights have helped me meet some of the  regular guys i always see sitting and observing people from the bus benches on the side of the road. First I met ‘Wombat’ from Cooma, New South Wales “That’s my nickname” he mumbles through his thick aged silver beard. Unfortunately i had to do a lot of naive nodding and i found myself laughing as soon as he did even though i had no idea what the poor man was saying as it was very hard to hear Wombat.

I also met ‘Ramon’ who is from Queensland. “What’s your name mate?” “Ian” I replied. Ramon continued ”My best mates name is Ian… a very reliable name”… I naturally agreed. Ramon is a very gentle benign man with a warm smile. His voice brings comfort to the surroundings. I kneeled beside him taking photos as he talked away freely digging deep into his empirical observations. Both ‘Wombat’ and Ramon loved to talk and i had to politely excuse myself to take more photos but they where more than happy to see me again.

I really enjoyed Saturday night, i went out at 11.30pm and finished at 4am. The crowd was slowly but surely fading away just like the night and staying till the sun came up was going to be a big ask when the streets where becoming empty. The street buskers are great magnets for capturing a photo and most people didn’t mind their photo being taken. In front of me i saw a young man passed out in the gutter with his two mates by his side. One of them was holding his head up while the other rolled him onto his side. It was was great to see so many people come up and offer help but the other people who had plenty to drink would laugh and and raise their hands in celebration of the young mans accomplishment of being passed out. There are countless sightings of heavy intoxicated people but i’ve never been tempted to take a photo as it’s too easy to capture the vulnerable. Friday night introduced me to a group of young men from Venezuela who were on the sreet preaching the message of God. I was approached when taking photos of them at work and asked if i believed in God, to which i replied “No”. “What will happen to you when you die?” the young man asked. I told him i wasn’t interested in what he was selling and i insisted he stop as it’s a waste of time. He left me by saying “When you die, just imagine there is a Hell… God Bless” I thought… That’s it?! That holds no water. Oh, and also, how very Christian of him to resort to fear. If i can imagine there is a Hell, then i can imagine when i die i’ll live on the bottom of the ocean with the great Sea God ‘Whalsurus’. Dribble.

So, as there were mostly incoherent and religious jibberish conversations this week, i’ll let the photos do all the talking.

He stands outside Chipotle and Peet’s Coffee n E Street, busking on his twelve-string at lunchtimes when I am there, sounding like Dylan, Nelson, Haggard; his music is very nice. He has one of those harmonicas you can play while guitaring; no cymbals at the knees though. Very distinctive with his long white hair, moustache, sunglasses; he has a long feather in his hat. One of the characters of Davis.  He was singing a song about watercoloured wine while I was drawing this, munching on my burrito. It was cold outside; November is really kicking in. The Fall Colours have just exploded all around us, the trees have suddenly turned the colour of flames, and there’s no way I’ll keep up with them.

He was truly magical and wanted nothing but to make people smile.

I thought I’d list some of my favorite magicians.
Some of my fav’s
Whit Hayden- cracks me up
Bob Sheets great performer
Frank Starsinic-love his store.
John Carney class act
David Williamson- the best
Mac King-an original
Wish I could have 10% of any one of their talents.

After a day spent helping to set up NEoN Public, the Video Games Live! pre-show in Dundee yesterday, we came across this talented young gentleman by the name of Edward Shallow, a chiptune busker who plays 8-bit songs using a classic gameboy hooked up to a mini amplifier.

Check out these videos and have a listen. And if you like what you hear. Click on this link to hear some songs from his EP ‘Red Plastic Park’ on Myspace.

One video here and more below the cut:

Outkast – Hey Ya!

–– Week 16 ––

“When I wanted sunshine I got rain” – The Monkees

In a place that is ambushed by people intoxicated by alcohol and drugs, with ease you can either be one’s enemy or newest friend, and tonight i was everybody’s newest friend. After a week away from Sydney, i made sure i did two nights worth of photography. Friday was back to Cruising with SJ driving. This was our toughest night, it rained again but this time it washed away the traffic. However, the working girls are there rain, hail, or shine.

My “friend” who consciously avoided eye contact of the weeks was my target tonight. With Natashas’ help she kindly asked him (I forget his name!) if i can get a photo and he kindly obliged. What was also interesting was he knew i was doing a project. To get this mans’ photo i was first to see Natasha. It was the straighest I’ve ever seen her. To the point where she admitted she was back to smoking heroin for the past four weeks. “My Grandfather past away like… five weeks ago… i actually wasn’t that close… i was really close to him but i never met him that many times cause he lived in South America you know what I mean, so I’ve only been there like six or seven times… so yeah i was just upset” This is the dialogue word for word, as i filmed our conversation as she took her regular position on the side of the bed and i sat in the single straw chair beside the bin with used condoms littering it. Natasha’s story reminds me of the surreal ‘Psychoscapes’ paintings by James Gleeson where the composition takes you through the darkest and most profound levels of your imagination. Is an addicts reality so far gone, the surreal becomes tangible? Most of the time in the room we frequent, number 4, Natasha was organising an escort her ‘pimp/muscle’ had booked via one of her online advertisements, this one coming from cracker.com.au. “You have to answer so many phone calls and questions, i pay this guy to do it for me”. On Monday Natasha will be starting a home detox which will take approximately five days, the first three involves being woken up every three hours (by her friend) to take pills. I wished her all the best before we left the room. On the way down the two flight of stairs Natasha yelled on her way down asking if he wouldn’t mind having photo taken “by the guy i told you about doing the project, he wants a photo of the manager…”

Saturday night was about taking a photo of the Hotel manager as mentioned above and walking the streets. This Saturday night in the Cross was packed to the rafters with people. It was impossible to walk in a straight line there where some many people dodging each other  and why not? the weather on Saturday was stunning especially compared to the night before. It was a good sign to me of the Cross at summer time. I wondered during the colder months how would some of the woman dress, can those tiny black dresses get any shorter? no they don’t, some just seem to be more see-through. After getting the shot of the manager i felt more confident in approaching people. I decided to chat away with two buskers. One was a young guy from Switzerland (with an American accent) who had just come busking on the streets of Paris “They were cool man, but this mad!”, I promised him and he’s female friend that I would come back and spend more time with them as people warmed to his music – playing songs such as The Monkees ‘I’m A Believer’ and his smile… in a way he can be my Venus fly trap.

The other busker was a much older man who plays around the corner from the main road. He is sure to get attention while having a Reindeers head above him with the mandatory red bow tie on it’s neck. He was happy to sing Britney covers while i filmed. He was also quite the ladies man “Any time darling” he playfully spoke into his mic as a young blonde woman smiled at him. However, the highlight was no doubt the witnessing and sighting of a fellow work mate ‘Derek’ as pictured in the gallery above with his girlfriend ‘Katrina!’ and friend Anna, who seemed to want to karate my arse. Thanks guys for giving me 2 shots i’m proud of showing.

I thought love was only true in fairy tales
Meant for someone else but not for me.
Love was out to get me
That’s the way it seemed.
Disappointment haunted all my dreams.

Then I saw her face, now I’m a believer
Not a trace of doubt in my mind.
I’m in love, I’m a believer!
I couldn’t leave her if I tried.
– The Monkees

When I was hitching around, I often ended up in strange towns needing to busk to earn myself enough to get some food and try to build up an emergency train fare fund. I’d head for the centre and start playing. When I was gigging with bands in those days I was keen to perform mostly original material but when you’re busking you do have to throw in a lot of songs that passers by might know. So I’d give them Beatles and Stones or Motown stuff, easy on the ear and hard to hate. The biggest single donation I ever received when I was busking was a twenty pound note. I was astonished but the person who’d put it in my guitar case did so casually and did not stop for thanks. Of course I’d regularly get foreign coins or buttons from jokers who had nothing better to do that day than try and wind up the musician. And sometimes there would be people clearly hanging around wondering whether I might get distracted by anything and offer them a chance to steal my earnings. No-one ever managed it but I saw the glint of theft in many a person’s eye out on the streets. Partly for that reason I would take out the bigger denomination coins every so often. This can also play a psychological role in how much people decide to donate: if they see you have only small coins they might take pity and put in something larger than they were intending to at first. But don’t get the impression that I was obsessed with how much people paid me for singing and playing to them. As far as I was concerned once I was caught up in the music I was as much playing for myself my own enjoyment as I was to earn cash. The way I see it, buskers should never demand money: we’re making music happen on the corner of a street, or down a subway, or wherever, but everyone is free to walk by, enjoy it or not, stick a few pennies in or not.

There was one occasion when I was convinced that four young lads with skateboards were going to try and pinch my hat and all the money inside. For several songs I tried to keep half an eye on them as well as making sure my hands were playing the right chords and saying “Thank you” if someone donated at a suitable moment in the song for me to take a breath. Eventually the lads came closer and I stared at tousle-haired kid at the front who looked like the ringleader. He was no more than twelve. “Hey,” he said. “Yes?” I asked, thinking this might be a diversionary tactic and trying to keep his mates in view too. “You’re really cool.” He beamed at me and the mates all nodded their agreement. For a split second my cynicism was still engaged and I still thought this might be a diversion. But as I looked into their faces I could see they actually meant it. “I want to learn the guitar,” said the one who’d spoken, “And I’ll do what you’re doing one day.” So I told them how privileged I felt, at times, being allowed to do this. I pointed out all the people walking by, in their suits and work clothes, off to grab a bite of lunch somewhere or rushing to the bank before they have to get back to the office. And here was I, bellowing and strumming in amongst them: the lucky bugger who can make his money from performing. They all nodded again, wide-eyed. And they asked for my autograph. Now I’ve been asked for autographs a fair few times in my musical career but I also find it a little odd. You want me to grab a ballpoint pen and scribble my name down on some slip of paper for you? Well, if it means something to them then who am I to deny them this most curious of pleasures? So I asked the first lad his name, and underneath it I wrote ‘Skate or Die’. The boys were even more in awe. “See,” said one to another, “He knows.” I didn’t have the heart to tell them I had no clue what it meant: I’d seen it on a friend’s T-shirt once.

I entered a Street Performer’s competition once, and had various time slots over two weeks to try and impress the secret judges. I did not expect to win as my competitors were serious entertainers who did fire-swallowing acts, or magic shows, or puppetry and whatever. But I took along my best friend Rob as well as a low, flat, wooden stool and a red velvety cloth. Covering the stool with the cloth made a tiny stage for me to perform on and Rob stood nearby juggling. Another mate came a couple of times too and did the ‘hatting’ (holding out a hat or other receptacle for people to put money into if they so wish). After a couple of okay but fairly tame sessions I started to try and spice things up. “Roll up, roll up, ladies and gentlemen. I shall now perform ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis whilst lying on the floor as my assistant here juggles three, count them, three juggling balls above my head.” Or I would jump off my little stage mid-song and follow someone as they walked past, singing straight at them, occasionally going down on my knees in front of them. And, my personal favourite was another ‘Roll up, roll up’ trick. “Ladies, gentlemen, small children, stray dogs. I shall now attempt to leap over this stage and play an A minor chord at the same time. Stand back please, it’s a very dangerous stunt to try and we wouldn’t want anybody squashed by music.” Rob would make a drum roll sort of noise and I would jump over the stage and strum the appropriate chord. As I said, I never expected to win the competition and sure enough I didn’t. But I had a great time and learnt a few new tricks to incorporate into my more regular busking.The strangest place I have ever busked is Heathrow Airport, but more of that tomorrow.

Har fått anbefalt Vestby planteskole, å bestille barrotsplanter, det er billigere hvis man skal ha mange.

Må gjøres i løpet av vinteren.

I’ve been so many places

I’ve seen so many faces

PARIS. BCN. LONDON.

Family. Friends. Lovers.

The Adventures of Skip & Scout.

Episode 1 + 2

]]> http://im203002.wordpress.com/2009/11/11/filming-111109/ Wed, 11 Nov 2009 17:21:31 +0000 im203002 http://im203002.wordpress.com/2009/11/11/filming-111109/

Well, another great day today, managed to complete all of the filming – brilliant!

Scenes involving the other busker (Thanks to Lax for this…), Mike busking, getting his stuff stolen (Thanks Rob), Mike practicing at home were all done. Shame about the rubbish weather…I guess you can’t get everything. The best part of the filming was Callum walking past thinking that Mike was actually busking cash..he then went on to give the guy £2..very kind – and included in the film now as well! Iain played the busker in the final scene and Leon lent a kind hand holding T’s guitar so he could go off and use the loo.

The only issue we had all day was trying to borrow a guitar from the MPC for 5 minutes…they wouldnt let us as we’re from a different school – great! So we had to use the same guitar throughout the film…I guess it could be said for comedic value maybe?

After downloading all the film to PC (just as it started to rain) we managed to get most of the film cut up and put where we want. All that’s left to do now is the green screen scenes and the sound track, which hopefully we can get done within the next two weeks!

A photograph of my self proclaimed muse Asha. She really is a delicate flower, haha. Check out her music at www.myspace.com/ashadoes .

A bunch of (apparently) Apache musicians make fairly regular appearances outside Churchill Square, Brighton, in full tribal gear. I think they’re lost.

Il mio viaggio in Eurostar mi porta via da Bruxelles per una breve parentesi londinese. La prima sera mi lascio trasportare dal consueto fascino Covent Garden. Di giorno qui puoi fare acquisti originali, di notte incontri interessanti. Con amici e una birra in mano, passeggio nell’atmosfera dolce di una notte estiva e seguo la musica nell’aria. Viene dall’angolo di fronte alla celebre Opera House: un ragazzo con chitarra e microfono è nel pieno della sua performance. I buskers, gli artisti di strada, sono un esercito di 400 a Londra, dove hanno spazi appositi per esibirsi nelle metro e nelle strade. Il busking è una vera professione e per esibirsi serve una licenza rilasciata dal comune, previo superamento di un’audizione e del controllo della fedina penale. Il nostro busker è un bel tipo con cappellino trendy, sguardo sexy e un piglio da cantante navigato. La custodia della chitarra è piena di sterline e la folla è fitta, a conferma del suo successo. Le canzoni sono pezzi famosi e ci mettiamo a cantare anche noi, quando un mix Battisti-DeGregori-Negramaro ci svela le sue origini. Si chiama Luca e ha un suo sito web, come leggo sul suo biglietto da visita, in bella vista sul marciapiede.

A child with Best Busker in Town printed on his bass drum entertains passers-by in Glasgow, Scotland, October 8, 2009.

1st-ish scene – city worker in his office working away, gets sacked “alan sugar”-style, collects belongings in a box, walks out

2 – we see the city worker walk past a busker (who hilariously looks similar to himself…) and decides to take on busking as his next career move

3 – the worker is now preparing himself, includes buying instruments/books/practicing – location..at home, shops etc.

4 – some sort of “x factor” competition (on a small scale) where our city worker wins, and gets his busking licence

5 – we see our busking playing away, nobody gives a hoot (we’ll have shots of other buskers here aswell..)

5a – first commuter to put in his pot…epiphany! “hallejulah” etc.

6 – after playing he realises he’s made just enough for dinner…make it obvious wih price tag in frame etc.

7 – see another busker playing away, what does he do!? give the money or not?!

Alternatively – busker opts for cheaper dinner over more expensive, so he still eats and doesnt die on the street etc.

End film here.

If there’s one thing I can turn to for warmth and comfort for the soul, especially with the plummeting temperatures here in Chicago, Playing for Change is it. This is a wonderful organization i came across a year ago that brings the world together through the universal language of music. To record a guitarist in 1 country, a drummer in another, and a trumpeter, a saxophonist, a choir in many more and then put them together into 1 music piece… that’s both brilliant and beautiful.

So what started out as a cool music project 4 years ago is now helping to raise funds to promote music education through the Playing for Change Foundation. Just in spring, they opened the doors to their first completed music school in South Africa! Now that’s music to my ears!

See and hear the magic for yourself!

It’s inspired me to try a mini-version of my own when i return home to Singapore too… how awesome would it be to bring together the musicians and street buskers of Singapore? From little drummer Ethan Ong to the uncle who’s been playing the keyboards in the Orchard Road tunnel for decades… oh, the possibilities! How exciting!

It’s always nice when someone notices the camera and then lets the showman take over – doubly nice when it happens in the soul-sapping environs of the twisting tunnels of Waterloo underground station.

This guy was getting a good return for being more than decent on the guitar and so I set up to take the standard “blurry world goes by” shot that you can get pretty easily at 1/15.

Instead I get treated to a show — which was snapped, in breach of official “Are you a proper photographer?” guidance, in auto mode as I couldn’t twiddle the dial fast enough.

See this shot large here. Some others of buskers on flickr here.

Oh, and he got £1.24 for his trouble, which was the sum total of the change in my pocket.

Jeg følte meg bedre enn ventet i dag så jeg falt for fristelsen til å ta en tur innom et hagesenter da jeg uansett måtte handle mat. Jeg var egentlig på utkikk etter noen phlox, men det fant jeg ikke. Selv om det var fint lite der ble det med en kinagullrose (rosa hugonis) hjem. (Og to orkideer …)  Rosen var podet og dårlig rotslått i torv, men jeg forsøker. For svenske kr 49 er det verd å prøve.

Så i kveld har jeg gravd den dypt ned i sandjorda mi. Passende nok sammen med en mandarinrose (rosa moyesii) og – mindre passende(?) – med en nyperose fra Trøndelag.   Nykomlingen har til og med fått en bøtte kompost med på veien. Håper at den blir flott. (Men først og fremst at den overlever.) Og mens jeg er igang med ønskeleken så håper jeg at jeg har fått den så dypt at jeg kanskje kan få den over på egen rot.

Og siden jeg uansett var ute grovluket jeg et bed jeg gikk forbi og snippet en haug frøstander. Jada – lettlurt!

I found this video on YouTube a while ago and it stuck with me. It is produced by a French website called La Blogotheque where they feature “concerts on the go.” This one is with Jason Mraz in front of the Georges Pompidou Center in Paris freestyling with a busker on the street. The result is an amazing blend of sounds. Watch for yourself…