It was the kind of good busk that makes you forget the bad ones.
Surrey Street is particularly beautiful in the autumn sun, and between the hours of around 10:30 and 12, it’s relatively quiet, and your voice and your guitar bounce around from wall to wall and back to you.
Buskers tend to favour pitches with decent footfall, but it’s not everything. Atmosphere is everything. Better to have one person walking down the street with a tear in their eye really digging your rendition of “So Long, Marianne” than twenty people who don’t give a shit and who never will.
You don’t have to play loudly to hear yourself, and so you can back off and get a little more subtle. Songs like “One Of Us Cannot Be Wrong”, “Walking Through Your Town In The Snow”, even your own “Girls Are Like a Black Cat” work perfectly in this situation.
I have certain administrative things to take care of — I get asked for business cards every day, or if I do gigs, or if I have CDs available… if I don’t get a handle on these things I feel I’m throwing money away that would be quite useful to have. But that’s okay. Really, it’s about days like today.
When I finished busking, I wrote another five songs at Bank Street. That’s 25 now. I’m resisting the urge to “check my work” for reasons I’ve written about before. It’s really hard.
All I know that is I have a thick pile of A4 sheets with lyrics and chords on, and corresponding voice memos saved in my iPhone. So I’ve done my work.
And now I can take a couple of days off to drink wine and go to the theatre and watch Dances With Wolves.