Curbside Aural Glamour

busk  (bsk)

v. To play music or perform entertainment in a public place, usually while soliciting money.

Busking by the canal in Copenhagen.

Sometimes busking feels like magic: I convert songs into currencies of the world. This summer, the cafe terraces of Berlin became what I referred to as the Bank of the People – when I had no money, I would stop and play a few songs on my way to happy fun times and make a withdrawal. Nothing greedy, never more than I needed, but I was always in awe of the process.

It's hard to tell who will fall under my charms. In Berlin the visiting Spaniards would smile and often tip well, while the Germans might glare at me throughout my set and then drop a 2 Euro coin in my hat with steely-eyed expressions.

When I can pull the trick off I still feel like I'm getting away with something. When it doesn't work though, especially after multiple attempts, my mood generally sours – it's an emotionally taxing method of making money. For example, I once played at a large patio of an upscale restaurant near Alexanderplatz, and one person out of 30+ tipped me. I am always conscious of the fact that I am playing unbidden, and ultimately expect nothing, but I walked away from that crowd in a controlled huff. One week before, I played at two neighborhood cafes and walked away with 25 Euros (about US$35) for eight songs. That was about the best I ever did. Magic is fickle.

And now I'm relieved to say I've returned to the amateur leagues with my musical sorcery, at least for now. Though they are ultimately regenerative, it's tough when you're hawking pebble-sized bits of your soul to unsuspecting tourists. I'd much rather give them away for free.