Diary Of A Busker Day 44 Friday February 18th Winchester High Street 1. corner of Marks And Spencer: 4:15-5:45pm, 2. opposite WH Smiths: 6-6:25pm.
I came in to do another late session opposite WH Smiths, as it proved quite profitable last night. Coming into the high street I passed two buskers I don’t know – a saxophonist and a guitarist outside Barclays Bank – an uncommon spot. Down a bit, at the popular Winchester meeting-place that is The Buttercross, Frank is ‘holed up’ – to use an old Western movie expression. His hat is full of silver and gold, that’s what we want, not ‘shrapnel’. Further down some lone strummers, so I’m back again at the noisy corner of Marks And Spencer.
Ragtime Phillip drops by. The other day he was raving about a fingerstyle guitarist, someone Smith, who is on youtube playing a Scott Joplin piece-Ragtime Dance. “It’s Richard Smith”, he says. “Yes, I watched him this morning, he’s brilliant. There is also a video of when he was 11, onstage with Chet Atkins, he’s great!” Phillip has photocopied an arrangement of The Entertainer which has the difficult C and D sections. I intend to incorporate these into my present C. Atkins arrangement. This will impress Frank – “no one ever does those bits”, he says.
A while later, and the excitement of the day reaches unsurmounted heights when I am approached by two police officers – a man and a woman, or more precisely, Community Police Service Officers, or CPSOs. I’ve seen them before, in fact I see the woman every time I’m out here. She says, “I’m sorry, but we’ve had a complaint about you.” Moi? “…we’re not asking you to move on, just to turn your volume down.” I’m shocked. I’m probably the quietest busker of them all. In fact, I’m quite a shy busker. My (small) ego is bruised. She carries on – “Yes, someone in a shop up at the top” I interupt, “Today, you mean?” “Yes, you were up there earlier, weren’t you?” “You mean up near Smiths?” “Yes, near there.” Wrong. “No, I’ve just been here today.” “Oh. Well, someone with amplification, we thought it was you. A shop owner complained they kept playing the same song – it was getting on peoples’ nerves.” Well, it couldn’t have been The Third Man because it couldn’t have been me!
Frank, who’s been lurking nearby, listening, comes to my aid, “Ah, I think you mean the two with the saxophone, earlier.” “Yeah” I say, “Them! They were up near Barclays when I came in. I think they had an amp…” – I’m not going to take the “rap” for this! The cops must realise they’ve got the wrong man, but don’t apologise. I turn super nice and say “But if you think I’m too loud, I’ll turn down – I don’t mind. I certainly don’t want to offend anyone.” “Oh no, it’s fine, don’t turn down, you’re alright, we see you all the time, you don’t annoy us.” “OK. Good” I say, “…and I see you all the time, and you don’t annoy me.” “Oh, OK, good.” says the WCPSO. So, that’s cleared up. Thrilling stuff.
A bit later, Jeremy and some friend come by and have a disagreement about the year of a Titian painting. “Is it from the 1840s?” says Jeremy. I tell them my favourite painter is Van Gogh, from a later period than Titian. Jeremys’ friend says “It’s amazing how many musicians say Van Gogh is their favourite artist. He’s a real musicians’ painter, it seems.” “Really? That’s very interesting”, I say.
It’s getting dark and I’m going to pack up, or ‘rig down’, as the proper musicians say. There is a gang of teenagers on the bench opposite. One comes over and plonks a 2p coin in my hat. “Sorry, it’s all I’ve got, but your music is really soothing, we really like it.” A nice compliment, but I’m still going. So, off to the local WC to warm my hands, then up the high street. I can’t decide whether to do a short session opposite WH Smiths or just go home. I walk past the shop, then back, then past it again, oh what the hell, why not! I set up and collect £2 within 5 minutes. Then, someone I haven’t seen for ages – George the 70-odd year old – the guy who promised to get me some gigs suddenly appears. I see him coming up to me, but he must think I don’t recognise him. “Marvin! It’s me, George! Hey, I saw your feature in the Chronicle It’s great, isn’t it! Have you got some gigs out of it? You must have.” No, not yet.” “What? No? Well, it’s great to see you – I haven’t seen you for ages…” George then produces a £10 note and puts it in my hat! “George, that’s alot of money, you don’t have to give me that!” “Don’t say that, don’t mention it, you deserve it, look-you’re out here playing this great stuff…I’ve ordered those two Chet Atkins books, Chet Atkins in Three Dimensions.” “They’re great, George. The first volume’s got La Vie En Rose – that’s where I learnt it.” George is in a very good mood and heaps a load of compliments on me. “You’ll be famous, Marvin (locally and fleetingly, I’m predicting)…bloody genius (untrue)… you’re the only one here who plays Chet (true)…” George makes to leave, I stop him – “Are there any gigs, George, I really need some!” “Not yet, the manager’s gone away for awhile, but I’ve got your number. I’ll get you a gig, don’t worry, and can I play bass with you?” Oh dear, I didn’t expect that. “Oh, I don’t know, George, I don’t usually play this stuff with other people.” George looks hurt. “You don’t want me to play bass, you mean?” He’s looking even more hurt and now I feel really bad. “Oh, that’s OK, you can play bass George. Um, is it stand up or electric?” “Electric”, he says. “Sure, that’s fine. You know all the songs, don’t you?” A few minutes later, George leaves – “Phone me, George.”
Earnings: £29.48p.
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