Music to my ears

The psychology of giving to buskers

Busking it

Yes, hard to believe anyone can be such a polymath I know, but as well as writing I play the piano accordion (badly). Truth be told, and not to hide my light under the proverbial bushel, these are the only things in life I am remotely any good at, apart from annoying Mrs. Pearce intensely, and losing money at whatever commercial or investment venture I try.

I have busked on and off for the past 35 years, and have written about it previously. Although, like writing, I can live without it if necessary financially. I enjoy playing music and the interaction with people, and the modest income is useful.

Busking is hard work, and definitely not a great career option, but it has its moments. Also, to be honest, earnings from writing have dropped so low, (part of my original slightly early retirement plan), that I can usually make far more in a couple of hours busking than I make writing in a week, which is a shame, but such is life.

This was the original article:

[embed]Back To Busking Pennies from heavenmedium.com

Like any modest success, there was a sequel:

[embed]Busking Beats Writing Pennies from heavenmedium.com

In this follow-up, I attempted to get philosophical, and draw some “life lessons” from what I have learned on the streets, so to speak:

[embed]Busking Lessons Life lessons from street performingmedium.com

An education

Busking, or street entertaining as I prefer to think of it, is educational. You learn a lot about the vast spectrum of human behaviour. One thing I have learnt is how unpredictable people are, and life in general is hard to read. You can go to the same spot, play the same tunes, same weather, and one day earn next to nothing, and another day, as happened today in Chippenham, someone hands over a high denomination note which is a great feeling of validation, but incredibly rare, at least in my experience.

Similarly I did well in Stoud Farmer’s Market on Saturday, a lovely vibe. At the other end of the continuum of earnings, I can play the same repertoire in Trowbridge, nice people, but a town on its uppers, and barely cover the cost of travel.

I still haven’t worked out why I got the high-value note — the only possibility I can think of is that England actually won at the football against Mexico the night before, an amazing match, and perhaps it improved the national mood, which being the UK with its “mustn’t grumble” mentality, and current “flag shagging” issues, definitely needed improving.

Funnily enough, when I got the note I was playing one of the most miserable tunes known to humankind from my repertoire, though strangely a much requested one at gigs I have done with my group, “The Fields of Athenry". We once played it at a hospice. Big mistake!

Just as likely are the days when you make a couple of quid, and get a button or some foreign coins. You also learn that people are weird. For example, not long ago a lady asked me, “Are you from England?” before giving when I answered in the affirmative. I did mention the “flag-shagging” issues the England has at the moment, which are probably connected with her question, the implication being, of course, that she would only give to someone born here. Sad.

The invisible barrier

I have noticed that there is a sort of invisible barrier around a performer, a bit like a stage, that most people, perhaps fortunately, are reluctant to breach. There are exceptions, such as those a bit the worse for drink. Parents accompanied by young offspring (often the most likely to be generous) will often send a child to give, rather than come venturing forwards themselves, as if the children are bolder than the parents, or can be sacrificed on the altar of potential social embarrassment on such occasions.

There is a whole psychology of giving as well. I have noticed that if one person breaks the invisible barrier, others are more likely to risk it as well, as though those giving need to summon as much courage as the performer. There is an element of copycat behaviour as well. Perhaps this is why some market traders, the sort that are trying to sell you the latest gadget, sometimes deploy stooges in their audience to trigger this facet we have of following the herd.

It seems as if some donors wait to see if it is “safe”, like penguins lined up along the edge of an ice shelf wary of leopard seals before diving into the water, waiting for a friend to go first to make sure it is safe.

Attitude to buskers

There are very different attitudes to buskers as well. Some people equate it with begging, which I can understand, as the act of putting out a hat is similar. However, to me, music or any type of street entertainment brings life to the often sterile, commercial feel of a high street, and if the music is of reasonable quality, you are giving something (often for free!). For me, it is about performing, not begging, it just happens that the means of giving is similar.

When I first moved to London decades ago, I used to occasionally give to beggars, but I stopped after a while, as I came to the conclusion that it encourages dependency. This is a harsh attitude, I know, but I believe that homelessness can only be resolved by structural changes rather than individual charity. Homeless people were removed from the streets overnight during the Covid lockdowns, which shows it can be done if the political will is there.

I was recently in Strasbourg and was really sad to see a poor lady on her knees, face to the pavement in a praying position, spending the whole day begging like this, face down to the ground, which struck me as a tragic waste of a life.

However, I nearly always give to anyone busking of reasonable quality, as they are giving something.

Some people seem to like to look in the hat, as if to reassure themselves that you are not making too much, presumably on the basis that they think the performer should get a proper job!

The psychology of giving

The amounts given vary hugely as well, from a couple of dull coppers, to the very occasional note. What encourages us to give or not? A few of those who give are slightly the worse for wear: perhaps giving is related to greater openness, and much of the time we spend our lives buttoned up, wrapped within ourselves, seeking to avoid too much contact with others.

I have noticed that sometimes bizarrely, the most generous are those who have the least to give, at least based on their appearance, as though their circumstances have kept their connection to humanity better.

Then there are the people who sit and listen for half an hour, only to wander off without giving. I console myself with the thought that we all give in different ways and on different days.

Most people are like that “Stranglers” classic: they walk on by, which makes things easier in some ways, as with the music, they can take it or leave it — if people stand and watch, it ups the stakes in terms of the quality of performance required, so I don’t mind the fluidity of an audience, even if it can be demoralising when some of the audience drift away.

A few people really like the type of music I play — folk music of different styles and from different nations. For some reason though the Irish seem to have about half of the best music. Overall I would say what I play only appeals to perhaps about 10% of the potential audience. I get the impression it appeals mainly to an older audience who perhaps heard more folk music in their youth.

One of my challenges is that I am seriously introverted, so playing to an audience is a potential nightmare, though not much talking is required! The first few numbers are the most demanding, especially if no one gives for ten minutes or so. It gets easier the longer you continue.

A factor which helps, with the introversion, is that I wear earplugs to protect my hearing from the accordion, which is quite loud (I don’t want too much of the racket I make!), and they do make you feel a bit “cut off”, which helps with a slight feeling of detachment. I am normally ridiculously thin-skinned, so it helps!

I decided I would do better if I had a pet to appear alongside me. Mrs. P and I were recently on a very rare foreign jaunt in Paris (via the Eurostar since I won’t fly, just to get the virtue signalling in), and we came across an accordion player in Montmartre, very near the Sacré Coeur cathedral, and he had a cat balanced on top of his accordion, which occasionally licked his face, and he was raking it in — loads of notes in the hat.

He was wearing a striped top and beret for the performance, “aggressively French” as one friend described the appearance. He just needed a bicycle and a string of onions to complete the look, and tick all the cliché boxes!

Incidentally, Mrs. P absolutely hates the accordion, a bit unfortunate in the circumstances, but on one bridge across the Seine we came across two players within a few hundred yards of each other, and I had to smile: there is no escape!

Make my day

If you see anyone busking, please be assured that it is hard “work”. Do give if you enjoy the music: it makes someone’s day, and helps our streets come alive, amid the rampant commercialism and consumerism of the shops. Go on, make my day!

I would be interested to know your views on this subject. What loosens the purse strings and encourages you to give? Do share in the comments!