He's Not At Dundas

In a dazzling serendipity, my next scheduled spot happened to be Dundas Station.

And as I studied the schedule more closely, I realized that Billy James' license number (#01) followed mine (#63, the year I was born) on the TTC's intricate grid system. This means that if he were following the schedule, he'd appear immediately after me everywhere I played.

But of course, nobody really follows the schedule.

When I arrived at Dundas this morning after dropping the kids off at school, it was clear that another musician had already been and gone, because a broken guitar string lay on the tile floor.

The busking spot was in the same location I remembered from twenty years ago, but many things surrounding it had changed. Now there was a brand-new entrance to the Eaton Centre directly off the walkway as well as an additional new hallway leading somewhere else--outside no doubt. Also, the stairs leading up to the subway platforms in both directions were covered with advertisements for WestJet Airlines.

The walls were apparently brown, not green as I remembered. And I wondered if, perhaps, the feng shui of the station had been negatively affected by the new entranceways. Could they be sucking vital life-energy away from the performer and the people passing by? It certainly seemed likely. For reasons that seemed otherwise unexplainable, virtually everyone appeared to be in a bad mood and un-generous frame of mind. (Despite my good intentions, I soon started to feel that way myself.)

I spent two hours in the Dundas corridor, two days in a row. I made considerably less than $10 an hour, even though many people walked by. I found myself feeling quite insecure about my songs, voice and guitar-playing ability during this time and at one point wondered if I'd make more money if I sang better-known cover tunes. In honour of the WestJet ad, I sang "Leaving On a Jet Plane". Nothing. I also sang Bruce Cockburn's "One Day I Walk" ("Oh I have been a beggar and shall be one again..".) Nothing.

The first day was especially difficult because it was very cold. I'd made a commitment to stay there between 9:30 and 11:30 in case friends wanted to come and see me, so I stuck it out...and by the end I was freezing. It was illuminating (in all ways) to leave the dingy brown corridor via one of the new entrances and step into the toasty warm and brightly-lit Eaton Centre, where I consoled myself by buying a new bright red coat which was on sale at H & M. Maybe it's the sheer contrast between the two environments that makes people less receptive to a busker at Dundas? Or maybe there's just less need for music and distraction in general?

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The next day, my friend Ken stopped by for a visit.

"Yeah, when I saw you were going to be at Dundas, I didn't think it was such a good idea," he told me.

I felt better immediately with him sitting close by on the bench. Then another friend came along to take new pictures for my website. I felt bolstered by the fact that I was now part of a group.

It's possible Dundas works well for some musicians and not for others (me, that is). When I arrived on the second morning, an excellent guitar player named Brian seemed to be doing well there. And before I left, another young singer arrived, thrilled to take the spot. By coincidence, both of the musicians I ran into were, like me, TTC first-timers. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought they too displayed a certain hopeful green newness.

In any case, there was no sign of Billy.