The Busker’s Fairytale

The Busker’s Fairytale

By Paul McCann

The crowd walked along through Buskers Lane like a passing parade . I stood there like before them, a man with no name playing a fender and blues harp . Another part of the side show . The pigeons above glided over the rooftops around the city with their soft feathers cutting slices in the winter wind that whistled in through runnels that skimmed through the lane we played . The man who played a saw with a bow managed to bend that thing urging the tunes that screeched like a scalded cat along the lane , The drunk with a two stringed guitar say in the back doorway of some shop that had long been closed .  Strumming blindly, he plucked some weary tune that just strung itself on the icy window ledges around boarded up window panes as the  twilight of the day fell . The trickle of tourists and night revellers had arrived again to eat and drink their fill and party on . The buskers were also caught up in the flow as ripples of excitement touched the hearts of us all in Buskers Lane .

I had already found suitable accommodation in a derelict building at the total cost of zero pounds per night . I had never really wanted to pay any more than that seeing as I was just a man with no name living in the world but not part of it somehow .

Most of us in Buskers Land were living in our own fairytale that wasn’t connected to the reality of life . If those who passed us by took a page from the book we read, they might understand something about what kept us living with the alternative approach to life we had discovered . In our fairytale we saw things differently and relived that each day as if it had never happened before .

We remained there sitting on the edge of déjà vu looking at time a passing by and playing our tunes and singing our songs on Buskers Lane to people passing by .

Sometimes in reflection there is a common ground between people living the fairytale and those caught up with the reality of life . That connection that unfolds in a second makes an impact that brings its own appreciation of how we feel and who we are and what makes it all worthwhile  .

The concrete-coloured sky changing now to a black tarred rooftop stretched over the city  and the night lights illuminated the streets and houses around Buskers Lane .           

There was an increase of taxi’s on the road as the night came to settled in at the end of the day . The sidewalks were gradually filling up with a sea of pedestrians . Buskers Lane was a thoroughfare of the multitude who were too busy to notice not interested to stop and listen to the concert being played by those who had come to play for them free of charge every night .

The buskers were people from all over the world. There were Street Rappers from Chicago and Glam Rockers from Milan , Mime actors and Californian fire dancers . The half man half woman who played songs from the heart . When he walked, he was tough , when he talked he was rough but when he sang he became the lady with the golden voice who charmed the hearts of many in the city .

There were the Italian tenors and the fiddlers from Venice , All part of the community on Buskers Lane .  My idea of busking was just to share my songs in different places to strangers . That was my fairytale and I was very grateful to be here in Buskers Lane with a roof over my head and a bed for free . I liked to remain invisible because as a man with no name it brought the fairytale to life .

Life can be a song that you’ve never heard before but you can somehow remember a place where you listened to that . In a strange sense it sings to you and it sinks in because it’s part of a living thing . Whatever you do or whoever you are , music is part of our yesterdays and our tomorrows . There will always be a song for that time . So many songs need to be shared with the world out there . The busker has a mission in life to bring those songs to people in places like Buskers Lane.

There are those who might think busking is some kind of street begging but it is much more than that . Busking is a vital source of bringing a positive energy into the lives of people passing by , it’s a message with music attached for the world to hear and it has a fairytale attached with colour and passion for others to enjoy .

The world today needs buskers and street theatre to deflect the negativity of what goes on and through sharing music freely with others it brings an expression of an alternative life with love and peace to some lost and confused in the aggression that can happen as life makes its own demands on us .

Then as I observed the police presence growing on the streets, I performed my last set of songs on Buskers Lane .  I belted out from my hungry belly a harsh sound that made a gravely deep mellowed blues sound that became more of a gravel rock fuelled by a lack of appreciation . At that point two young girls came over and gave me some well waited for applause . Then I realise my fairytale had some effect after all .

I took a final bow and returned to the derelict building that gave me shelter , good night to Buskers Lane and all those who came passing by .

The End