Singing Like A Hungry Scouser

Singing Like A Hungry Scouser

By Paul McCann

The spare change in my pocket was going jingle jangle and the steel heels on my shoes were going click clack as I walked to the Mersey beat sound in my head .

I had just crossed over on the Belfast to Heysham ferry across the Irish Sea and I was looking for a place to stay . It was my first time in Liverpool and the docks were a place of intrigue and challenge . I looked back at the faces that silently assaulted me with their eyes and tried to focus on the famous singers and music makers from that city .Liverpool home of the fab four , Cilla Black , Gerry and The Pacemakers and Freddie and the dreamers . Apart from all this Liverpool like many port cities was a hard place and yet it held your attention with its people who knew with one look if you were a visitor or a local ,. As I walked through the streets with my guitar . I was on the hunt for a place where I could busk . I found myself there beside by Lime Street station in the heart of Liverpool . It wasn’t too long before I found a corner and started strumming away . Although it was still very early in the morning there were lots of people about .

I stood there near a bistro bar and watched some of the early morning activities passing by on the street . After not getting any positive vibes I made my way to  Church Street , looking for a central position to keep busking . It was starting to get busy now with Saturday morning shoppers pounding the pavement like jack hammers with a serios job to be done .

It was looking a little more promising now with thousands of people on the move passing by where I stood in the alleyway there near Church looking like a refugee and singing like a choir boy who needed a feed . I had always found that hunger gives you an edge when you sing and confidence makes the right ingredients for busking . Liverpudlians can hear the hunger in your voice and if you sing long enough and hard enough you might be lucky and get some spare change for your trouble . I decided to try a few Beatle songs to win them over but my covers of their own home-grown heroes fell on deaf ears . My voice was carried by the breeze all the way back to the pier and the place was buzzing with people everywhere but I picked up this unwelcome attitude from a lot of the passersby who seemed to resent me for busking there in their city .  So, I could that my busking wasn’t working so went to get a place top stay . With the thought of returning later in the day for another go at busking to the evening crowd .in the main drag .

I managed to get a cheap room at the YMCA and after a coffee and a rest I returned with my guitar to Lord Street . I had yet to get a coin for my attempts however it’s not about money its just about sharing my songs .  

I walk the streets of Liverpool like a sailor without a ship and there were no wild flowers blooming anywhere . The day was almost over and I was staring at the moon and thinking of the dawn and tomorrow , Maybe in the light of a new day I could have another go at busking in this rough , cold old city where nobody requests a song as the shadows cross over the street and exit into doorways of cafes and pubs where big boys don’t cry and if they do they hide behind newspapers so you don’t see the tears that fell on the lonely streets of Liverpool . On my way back to the YMCA I stepped into the open door of the Catholic church in Mount Pleasant and said a prayer or two in that sacred place , I was minding my own business there in the Cathedral when I was approached and asked to move into another seat as the one, I was sitting in was reserved .

Being the only one inside the building I was curious who the seat was reserved for and not getting a satisfactory answer I decided to just leave the church and as I went back outside it was pouring with rain . The streets of the city where wet and cold and there was no pity anywhere as I walked on the sidewalks with my guitar . Now and then I turned around to have a look at the big church on the hill wondering if there was anyone sitting in that reserved seat yet . As the distance between me and the church got further , I thought about the hills and valleys on the empty shores where  love had not yet been found and songs had not made any sound  as the days turned into months and the years keep rolling on by , I thought about the people who questioned what I did and asked me the reason why I busked for nothing , Maybe if they could have walked in my shoes for a while they would understand why I did the things I did .

The next day my busking box remained empty except for the 20p coin that I put there myself but still I wasn’t going to let that dampen my spirit so I kept playing and I wouldn’t keep quiet and I would not stop . I wasn’t going to allow hunger and my confidence to give up and started singing again Beatles Songs “ Something in the way she moves   attracts me like no other lover :

My busking heart said , never give up , , stand your ground and keep singing and I did what my heart said on a Sunday afternoon in Liverpool shopping centre .

I carried on regardless and continued to sing my songs to those passing by .In my mind I was going to Carolina and there was enough time left to discover a connection with the place where The Quarrymen came from and where something magic happened that made them write things like Penny Lane and  Strawberry Fields . As a songwriter I wanted to  understand the personal attachments to some of those lyrics in those songs from their youth to the transition of finding that fantastic formulae of making hit after hit . How they were able to write so many brilliant songs one after the other still leaves me wondering . I wanted to see the places they played and imagine what it was like for them as a band from Liverpool just starting out . In that process I saw the shadows pass through my mind and when I closed my eyes, I could see them all playing as a band before all their local Liverpool fans  .

In a café I ordered a coffee and took a seat at a table . It was kind of a half café and half a music shop . This long-legged , blonde-haired girl who was a scrounging student came over to task if I wanted anything else  .

 With The small change in my pocket, I counted it out and said ,

 “Maybe I’ll have a cake to have with my coffee please “

She scribbled that down on a notepad and replied .

“So, do you play the guitar then?

‘” Yeah , I spend most of my days writing songs and singing them on the street.”

I answered .

She smiled and stood there with a notepad and a pencil in her hand as . Her blonde curls fell all over her face and she seemed intrigued .

“Why don’t you put a band together and play your songs in the pubs ?

She said and I replied ,

“That’s a good question . I don’t have time toa band together , you see I’ve dedicated my time to just writing and busking the songs I write “

This punk nearby started to make some noise about the lack of service in the café and the staff who didn’t have time to take orders . He really did have an attitude problem.  The young waitress walked away with a sad face  as the punk continued to kick and scream demanding for some service . This face of this lovely Liverpool lass had left me  but not broken hearted . In the buskers eyes there are so many faces that are unforgettable. There are many things a busker never forgets .

I felt that my time in Liverpool was running out and the next day I decided to trat myself to go and see a movie at the Cannon cinema in Lime Street . After the movie I went to an underground disco . It was going to be my last night so I just had a few drinks with people I didn’t know and we spoke about  things like music and faraway places where no one had ever been before or even seen .

The next day I stood waiting with my bag and guitar for the bus . Mercy mercy Merseyside . I’m leaving now .

The End