"You have to watch out for that, you know."
What?
"You can burn out. I've heard it happens. You need to be careful."
I wondered what he meant. Did he mean that you get demoralized after awhile when so many people pass you by? Do you get tired of your own songs? Do you get sick of singing and playing?
Or is it something more sinister, like obsessive gambling? Is subway busking the crack cocaine of musical performance?
+++
I was still thinking about this, two hours into my second day at Yorkdale.
Despite the cold, I was doggedly working my way through my entire repertoire. In any given subway shift, I try not to repeat songs very often. I stick mostly to my own songs, adding a few covers I know well. (At the moment, this is exactly three, not counting Christmas songs.) I usually don't play long enough to get through my entire list of 48 songs, but I came pretty close at Yorkdale today.
This was interesting, because I was cold from the moment I got there. I wasn't feeling as energized as I had on Thursday, and because I'd been to Yorkdale once already, the second day didn't have the same novelty value. The crowds seemed equally receptive today, but not exceptionally so, as most people seemed pretty focused on getting to the mall and getting their shopping done. I saw several people rushing by with large wrapped gifts today and in their honour I broke out my first official Christmas song: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas".
So why did I stay as long as I did: almost two and a half hours without a break?
I figured it had to be the Pavlovian lure of instant payment each time I played another song. I thought of gambling addiction: "If I just play one more song...just one more!...maybe somebody will buy a CD!" Was that it?
I told myself I'd quit after the next donation...then someone would toss in a loonie and I'd say I'd just finish the song...and then another crowd would be passing through so I'd start another. I told myself I should finish with something great...something definitive...some appropriate send-off for two and a half solid hours of playing in a cold walkway. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas?
(I finally did switch my amp off, collect my change and go home. It was my biggest donation day yet: $56.63.)
Despite the cold, I was doggedly working my way through my entire repertoire. In any given subway shift, I try not to repeat songs very often. I stick mostly to my own songs, adding a few covers I know well. (At the moment, this is exactly three, not counting Christmas songs.) I usually don't play long enough to get through my entire list of 48 songs, but I came pretty close at Yorkdale today.
This was interesting, because I was cold from the moment I got there. I wasn't feeling as energized as I had on Thursday, and because I'd been to Yorkdale once already, the second day didn't have the same novelty value. The crowds seemed equally receptive today, but not exceptionally so, as most people seemed pretty focused on getting to the mall and getting their shopping done. I saw several people rushing by with large wrapped gifts today and in their honour I broke out my first official Christmas song: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas".
So why did I stay as long as I did: almost two and a half hours without a break?
I figured it had to be the Pavlovian lure of instant payment each time I played another song. I thought of gambling addiction: "If I just play one more song...just one more!...maybe somebody will buy a CD!" Was that it?
I told myself I'd quit after the next donation...then someone would toss in a loonie and I'd say I'd just finish the song...and then another crowd would be passing through so I'd start another. I told myself I should finish with something great...something definitive...some appropriate send-off for two and a half solid hours of playing in a cold walkway. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas?
(I finally did switch my amp off, collect my change and go home. It was my biggest donation day yet: $56.63.)
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