Subway entertainers play the finance blues
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AFP
Oluşturulma Tarihi: Şubat 11, 2009 00:00
NEW YORK - Two decades ago subway entertainers were very rare in New York City. Now the Metropolitan Transport Authority licenses 100 soloists and ensembles, while uncounted and growing numbers of others dodge the police to play without a permit.
They can play just about anything in the world, but today's New York subway performers are all singing the economy blues.
Scores of freelance musicians serenade the grimy metro system day and night with everything from opera to doo-wop and Mariachi to the Chinese dulcimer.
But they are finding it harder to get commuters to take notice.
"I've played all day and look at that," trumpeter Ron Michaels, 55, said in Times Square station, gesturing at less than $20 in coins and notes at the bottom of an old coffee tin. "I'd not thought the economy would be this bad. If street performers are hurting, then it's got to be serious."
Calebe Arruda, a Brazilian-born guitarist and violinist playing Grand Central, said commuters suffer that same fear gripping consumers, shareholders and banks.
"If you leave your home today to go to work and give 25 cents to everyone you see, then you'll end up spending more than $5. People think twice about that now," the softly spoken musician, aged 49, said.
They were rare two years ago
Two decades ago subway entertainers were rare. Now the Metropolitan Transport Authority licenses 100 soloists and ensembles, while uncounted and growing numbers of others dodge the police to play without a permit.
"There are more musicians than ever, so competition is getting a lot stiffer," said Sean McCaul, soothing hectic evening commuters at Union Square with his full-sized vibraphone. Rocker Luke Ryan, a veteran of the subterranean music world, said things are tough even with his prime spot at the platform for trains shuttling between Grand Central and Times Square.
"I used to be able to support myself on this and the gigs that come out of this. Now, I do it because I love it," Ryan, 57, said during a break from playing blues ballads.
A professional people watcher, Ryan has discovered that the rich are not the most generous contributors to his open guitar case, which is labeled "Economic stimulus." Early morning commuters from leafy suburbs and mid-morning female shoppers "with French things written on their bags and nice winter coats" are the stingiest, said Ryan. "When people have money, they don't give money. They have no empathy," he said.
"The real working people, the immigrants: they give. A little later I see the regular working stiffs and they like my kind of music. They give. I'm doing OK by them."
The performers say their business has always been more about love than money.
"We'd do this show for nothing. If people give money then it should be from the heart," said Gerard Giddiens, 50, a member of a dazzling quartet that sings 1950s and 1960s tunes like "Under the Boardwalk" at 77th Street station. "God gave us this talent and so we're using it."
Computer technician Angel Diaz, 48, was heading to work in northern Manhattan, but missed four trains so that he could savor the soul singers. "People give buskers (performers) less money these days because they are worried about other things," Diaz said.
"But people who really appreciate will always pay. This is art. They bring back the music of the old days and a lot of memories of the way it used to be before things turned so bad."
Scores of freelance musicians serenade the grimy metro system day and night with everything from opera to doo-wop and Mariachi to the Chinese dulcimer.
But they are finding it harder to get commuters to take notice.
"I've played all day and look at that," trumpeter Ron Michaels, 55, said in Times Square station, gesturing at less than $20 in coins and notes at the bottom of an old coffee tin. "I'd not thought the economy would be this bad. If street performers are hurting, then it's got to be serious."
Calebe Arruda, a Brazilian-born guitarist and violinist playing Grand Central, said commuters suffer that same fear gripping consumers, shareholders and banks.
"If you leave your home today to go to work and give 25 cents to everyone you see, then you'll end up spending more than $5. People think twice about that now," the softly spoken musician, aged 49, said.
They were rare two years ago
Two decades ago subway entertainers were rare. Now the Metropolitan Transport Authority licenses 100 soloists and ensembles, while uncounted and growing numbers of others dodge the police to play without a permit.
"There are more musicians than ever, so competition is getting a lot stiffer," said Sean McCaul, soothing hectic evening commuters at Union Square with his full-sized vibraphone. Rocker Luke Ryan, a veteran of the subterranean music world, said things are tough even with his prime spot at the platform for trains shuttling between Grand Central and Times Square.
"I used to be able to support myself on this and the gigs that come out of this. Now, I do it because I love it," Ryan, 57, said during a break from playing blues ballads.
A professional people watcher, Ryan has discovered that the rich are not the most generous contributors to his open guitar case, which is labeled "Economic stimulus." Early morning commuters from leafy suburbs and mid-morning female shoppers "with French things written on their bags and nice winter coats" are the stingiest, said Ryan. "When people have money, they don't give money. They have no empathy," he said.
"The real working people, the immigrants: they give. A little later I see the regular working stiffs and they like my kind of music. They give. I'm doing OK by them."
The performers say their business has always been more about love than money.
"We'd do this show for nothing. If people give money then it should be from the heart," said Gerard Giddiens, 50, a member of a dazzling quartet that sings 1950s and 1960s tunes like "Under the Boardwalk" at 77th Street station. "God gave us this talent and so we're using it."
Computer technician Angel Diaz, 48, was heading to work in northern Manhattan, but missed four trains so that he could savor the soul singers. "People give buskers (performers) less money these days because they are worried about other things," Diaz said.
"But people who really appreciate will always pay. This is art. They bring back the music of the old days and a lot of memories of the way it used to be before things turned so bad."