6. Exposing Yourself

Firstly, following the frenzied and sustained attempt by a white Fiat Uno to ram my Aston Martin off the M1 the other night, as well as the attempted poisoning of two of my gazelles and the three handwritten death threats (spelling and grammar so poor that they could only have come from an acoustic busker or a millennial), my lawyer has advised me to issue the following statement: 

 

“Clark Davis would like to make it known, in no uncertain terms, that he bears no malice towards underground buskers of any persuasion, be they backing-tapers, common or garden acoustic, karaoke, mime or any other subspecies thereof, and he wishes to apologise, without reservation, to anyone or anything or any snowflake that may have chosen to take offence at his pitiful attempts to convey a comprehensive facsimile of the current busking zeitgeist, with his tongue firmly in his cheek and his head clearly up his… blah, blah, etc…” 

 

It’s just joking, alright? Jesus. Some people got no sense of humour. 

But… Whoever you are… Please, could I have my dog back? 

Anyhoo, get your notebooks out. On with today’s lesson: 

 

Where to expose yourself. 

 

It’s a little-known FACT that the first London Underground busking pitch was established beneath Rotherhithe in 1839. Sadly, this was 23 years before the first tube line was constructed, and three miles from what would be the nearest station. Thankfully, there was only one busker at the time, a Mr Thomas Mayhew (no relation), whose licence was faked on a ZX Spectrum with a dot matrix printer. One can only assume earnings must have been slim, with such impoverished technology. What a loser. 

These days, however, there are over thirteen million buskers competing for only five decent, official pitches: Blackfriars, Kentish Town, Russell Square, Pimlico and Embankment are none of those five. 

Bearing in mind my earlier ‘apology’ (but don’t get me started on those fuckers who busk above ground – those unhygienic, disingenuous, prima donna twats), I think it’s understandable that the ideal busking category in which one could wish to exist must be the live, acoustic, unlicensed, roaming romantic, the music man/woman / millennial, preferably playing in some far away land, above ground in clean air and warm sunshine, with a quiet, serene ambiance and a steady stream of about five thousand people an hour, tip-toeing happily, quietly and wealthily by. All a bit drunk. And in love. 

But that ain’t gonna happen. So, we have to make the best of the cards we are dealt, find a way to forge a living through picking the right ballad for a rainy Tuesday afternoon. Face it, it can be a shit business. The five best places can only be booked once a week, which is ridiculous for everyone, especially my fans. It wouldn’t be such a problem if other pitches were as well placed and thus lucrative and thus worth playing. But they’re not. 

When busking was illegal, it was the autonomy of the busking collective that decided ‘who’ would be playing ‘when’, with the ‘where’ having been established through the years of experience of previous buskers, after the very first busker (Thomas Mayhew (no relation)) had realised it might not be a bad idea to leave the sewers of Rotherhithe and go sing at drunk people in Leicester Square on a Saturday night. It can’t have taken long for the best busking spots to establish themselves. 

But when busking was legalised, Elfin Safety, bless him, stepped in and moved these traditional, efficacious busking hotspots to new, officially recognised pitches, a few feet further from the natural flow of people. Three-foot semi-circles of vinyl, designating how far you’re allowed to spread your equipment. Or your feet. Elfin Safety, you fucker. 

Consequently, some pitches will go barely touched. Some of the pitches are hard to find. Some pitches have been put in places that go against the nature of space and time. 

Basically, of the forty-odd pitches that exist, less than twenty are worth playing at all. Of that twenty, about half will make it onto each busker’s playlist, with only half of those actually being favoured, pitches where they actually make money. So, each individual’s list will depend hugely on the type of music they play. A crowd of people, suited, brogued and heading towards the Albert Hall for an evening of Prokofiev, may not be at their most responsive to a guy with Kiss spandex and a Gibson Explorer, shredding through a 100W amp powered by a small, third world village. Whereas, a violinist playing I Dreamed a Dream, over and over and over… and over again, will probably do considerably better. 

So, whilst each individual’s list of ten will differ slightly from another’s, there are five constants. Pretty much. Usually. 

But you’re gonna have to work them out for yourself. I’m not telling you. I’m not giving out The Knowledge. Go find out for yourself, you lazy fuck. It’s not rocket science. 

Because, at the end of the pitch, there are no guarantees. It is possible to earn nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

But there are things you can do to stack the odds in your favour. We’ll take a look at these in the next-ish instalment of: 

 

Buskabout! – The Busker’s guide to Busking! 

 

And remember – Love most of the people, most of the time.