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Genius can't cut it
April 12th, 2007 08:22 pm...as a busker.
Pearls Before Breakfast
It's a long and occasionally over-dramatic read, but well worth it.
I'm not inclined to draw such dismal opinions as the article writers, for a variety of reasons. Firstly, the morning commute is really this side of people at it's worst. Secondly, what goes for a busy transit stop in DC does not go for the world, the U.S., or even the whole east coast. Thirdly, and with a note of smug pride, busking, as we buskers well know, is a different art than performance. A mediocre musician who is a great entertainer stands a better chance on the streets than a virtuoso classical musician. For one thing, the type of music requires intense concentration, which means you aren't interacting with the crowds, and stage performers aren't accustomed to noticing their crowds anyway.
Most importantly, I suppose, is that everyone's idea of the truest beauty is entirely and totally subjective. I love music. I describe myself, on occasion, as a musician by nature, an artist by profession. But on the morning commute, while I might appreciate running into music (granted, unlikely on the south end of capitol way, but still), I wouldn't say that it is the ultimate in beauty, that it defines or measures my capacity for appreciation. No, what proves that are the new leaves that line capitol way glowing in early light, the shine of sun on lowlying cloud, and the view that stretches clear to the brightening Olympics. That takes my breath away - Every. Damn. Time.
So the music is beautiful, but don't judge us too harshly if we need to focus before we realise it. It takes an inhuman occurence to break through to us when we're not expecting it.
Pearls Before Breakfast
It's a long and occasionally over-dramatic read, but well worth it.
I'm not inclined to draw such dismal opinions as the article writers, for a variety of reasons. Firstly, the morning commute is really this side of people at it's worst. Secondly, what goes for a busy transit stop in DC does not go for the world, the U.S., or even the whole east coast. Thirdly, and with a note of smug pride, busking, as we buskers well know, is a different art than performance. A mediocre musician who is a great entertainer stands a better chance on the streets than a virtuoso classical musician. For one thing, the type of music requires intense concentration, which means you aren't interacting with the crowds, and stage performers aren't accustomed to noticing their crowds anyway.
Most importantly, I suppose, is that everyone's idea of the truest beauty is entirely and totally subjective. I love music. I describe myself, on occasion, as a musician by nature, an artist by profession. But on the morning commute, while I might appreciate running into music (granted, unlikely on the south end of capitol way, but still), I wouldn't say that it is the ultimate in beauty, that it defines or measures my capacity for appreciation. No, what proves that are the new leaves that line capitol way glowing in early light, the shine of sun on lowlying cloud, and the view that stretches clear to the brightening Olympics. That takes my breath away - Every. Damn. Time.
So the music is beautiful, but don't judge us too harshly if we need to focus before we realise it. It takes an inhuman occurence to break through to us when we're not expecting it.
