Look at you, with your music, caught on the wind, maybe, or creeping up your spines, maybe, tappin at the inside of your skulls. Look at you with your dirty calloused hands, and wanderlust, and apocolyptic love songs, knowing that the only way its gonna be good, is when the bullshit stops, and shit crumbles and burns, and we have we.
If someone didn't care about recording the obscure and remote musical geniuses of depression era of music..it simply would have been lost by the wayside, never to be told, recorded, sung again.
That is how I feel about the present. There are people out there, playing on the streets, playing old tunes, playing their own music pertaining to what they know and collaborating with other musicians, fusing east coast, west coast, old south, mid-west, traveling to Central and South America, Europe, and all across the globe and the point isn't marred by fame and fortune.
Getting from point A to point B, by sometimes unconventional methods, there is music where they stop to entertain the masses, and hope to make enough cash til they next play, the reality is that city, that space, that time, and those faces.
And sometimes those songs are fleeting. And sometimes these bands will disperse. And I feel as though capturing these faces, and sounds, and stories, keeps them alive. Alive.
Because like everything else in life.. it is here. Real. Now. And then gone.
That is how I feel about the present. There are people out there, playing on the streets, playing old tunes, playing their own music pertaining to what they know and collaborating with other musicians, fusing east coast, west coast, old south, mid-west, traveling to Central and South America, Europe, and all across the globe and the point isn't marred by fame and fortune.
Getting from point A to point B, by sometimes unconventional methods, there is music where they stop to entertain the masses, and hope to make enough cash til they next play, the reality is that city, that space, that time, and those faces.
And sometimes those songs are fleeting. And sometimes these bands will disperse. And I feel as though capturing these faces, and sounds, and stories, keeps them alive. Alive.
Because like everything else in life.. it is here. Real. Now. And then gone.
The Buskers Project is the documentation of street performers, or buskers, and the culture and stories thereof, in order to prevent the loss of such art and history.
Busking, also known as street performance, is performing arts, skills, and talents in public spaces for, often meager, financial gain as well as self-promotion. It is an age-old tradition dating back as far as ancient Greece. Many musicians, artists, and performers of all sorts do this as their sole source of income. However many of these people are not planning fame and fortune, they are playing music for music’s sake.
Busking is an important part of American subculture, and for those who share this passion like us, it is imperative to record and document this art because without documentation it will disappear completely. Without traditional blues standards there wouldn’t be country or rock n’ roll music today. There are many famous American blues and jazz musicians who still continue to influence music today, such as Lead Belly, Hank Williams (who learned to play guitar from a busker, Rufus Payne), and Louis Armstrong, all of whose careers started through busking.
It was created out of a nostalgic necessity. Often times within the creative world, it has been realized that performance, song and happenings were not documented, resulting in only memories, and their inspiration. But the photographs and recordings of yesteryear are so very important and interesting ,weaving into our collective history, that losing them would be almost sacrilegious. And that is how we feel about this. Not documenting the amazing music and performances would be wrong, and a whole lot of this would be lost. We have made it a priority to keep this project in motion and as well done as our means allows. We are merging the inspiration with records that can be looked upon, again and again.
We have been working with inadequate equipment and insufficient funds for a long time now, but we still press on, seeing the immense importance of this project. In addition, we are faced with the challenges of documenting on the road, as we travel across America searching out true street performers and the culture surrounding them.We are very passionate and zealous about this project, and have been since it started in 2008.
This is a critical time in terms of music. This is a crucial point in history. In this digitalized day and age, the world of art and performance is evolving. Fleeting sounds, fleeting bands…I feel as though capturing these faces, and sounds, and stories, keeps them alive. Alive.
Without taking the time to remember this today, will it be there tomorrow?
reality? A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.
Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.
A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.
A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.
The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist.
Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.
In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.
No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the top musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written,with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.
Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats average $100.
This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty?
Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?
One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?
-Exert By Gene Weingarten Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, April 8, 2007