Union Station and a Voice of Experience

This morning I sang at Union Station for a couple of hours, in an unusual walkway between the main subway station and the Go Train terminal. At first, when I was looking for the little dots, I went too far and ended up in an adjoining mini-mall. The shopping concourse near the Go Trains looks a lot like a subway station, except for the number of snack food chains and—horror of horrors—the piped-in music over the loudspeakers! That was a pretty obvious clue that I was in the wrong place. But I was glad to experience Muzak near a subway station, so I could appreciate how completely wrong it seemed.

Of course, when I say "I sang at Union Station", you might imagine the gloriously historic train station itself, with one blissful singer (me) smack dab in the middle of it. (Has any major celebrity done this? I must look it up on Google.)

Yes, singing in that part of Union Station would be a peak life experience. But actually, singing in the walkway between the subway and the Go Train station isn’t half bad either. The acoustics are great (who knows exactly why)—and it’s even more fun when people donate and buy CDs as they did this morning.

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On my way back home, I met Roger, an experienced subway musician. He was singing at Yonge/Bloor, the station I consider the psychic centre of the TTC. It’s a huge, multi-leveled subway station that serves as the axis for both a north-south and east-west line, and frankly, it intimidates me. (Maybe it’s like concert venues: I’m comfortable in my own local clubs and feel a little queasy at the thought of playing the Air Canada Centre. Not that I need to worry about that any time soon.)

Roger Ellis is a sweet-voiced, gentle bear of a man whose calming presence is a genuine gift to all who hear him. In keeping with his personality, his original songs have a balanced, peaceful quality. A professional musician for many years, he sings and plays with ease and grace, whether it’s his own song or somebody else’s. (I have to admit, I never grow tired of hearing Simon & Garfunkel's "The Boxer", which he was playing today when I arrived.)

The first time I met Roger, we were both playing at a small outdoor festival. From the stage, he made a point of welcoming his fans from Davisville subway station. That made a big impression on me. It was impressive that people had followed him from the subway to a larger venue—and inspiring that he was so publicly positive about his underground experience.

Today, Roger took a break from "The Boxer" to speak to me and provide helpful advice. He talked to me about how to save my voice and about the possibility of cooperating with other musicians to make best use of time at certain stations. Once again, I was struck by his generosity in sharing the tricks of the trade. In some other music circles, I had encountered a certain competitiveness (even if it was unconscious) but I hadn’t found that so far on the subway system.

As much as I enjoyed talking to Roger, I was very conscious of not wanting to over-stay my welcome. Dozens of people had passed by as we were talking. I wanted him to start playing again so he could make more money.

I was halfway down the stairs to get onto the Danforth line when I heard him pick up exactly where he’d left off, ten minutes ago. "When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy, in the company of strangers, the quiet of the railway station, running scared, laying low…seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go…"