London Harmony: Feel the Beat (2 page)

I hopped on the motor coach with Percy and my equipment, and scanned my Oyster Card and moved to the back of the coach. As I sat, Percy sat in front of me between my legs, and I released the handle of his service harness. The dark browns and reds of the roar of the diesel engine thrummed through me as we headed toward my destination Covent Garden, near Soho.

I heard a little girl coo and say, “Puppy!” I looked up through my glasses and saw a little one, possibly four, bubbling in her seat just in front of us. The girl asked, “Can I pet him?” Her mum looked appalled or embarrassed her daughter would ask and tried to get her to turn back around.

I smiled, not many people asked, they just assumed they could, not realizing the hundreds of hours of training that goes into a service animal, and it undermines the training to break protocols. But my boy has never slipped into bad habits though I still reinforced the training when I could.

I shook my head. “He's actually working right now, he takes his job seriously.” Her face dropped and her mum was still trying to get her to turn back around. I saw the pity in her eyes for me, I still didn't get that, she had no clue what was wrong with me, she just saw service dog and thought “The poor girl.” Percy was just a safety net, in case I miss something, and a right cuddly pillow.

I hesitated then said, “Tell you what though, he needs a break now and again.” I unclipped his harness and bib that identified him as a service animal and clipped on his leash instead. His tail was suddenly wagging, he was all business when that bib was on and all playful pup with it off. “You can pet him for a couple minutes, but he'll need to go back to work before my stop.”

I gave him some slack and he stepped right to the little girl who buried her hands and face in his fur. He loved children and was so patient with them. I winked at her mother who didn't look as embarrassed about her daughter now, and she gave me a look of thanks with a slight tilt of the head.

The little girl asked, “What's his name?”

I grinned at her enthusiasm. “This is Sir Percival, he's the knight of my heart.”

The girl grinned then started having a very serious conversation with “Sir Percival.” His name sounded so cute coming from a little one, with lots of soft swirly pinks and a hum inside.

After a couple minutes, I tapped my foot on the floor and he stepped back to me. I looked at the girl. “Terribly sorry, but our stop is coming up, Percy needs to get back to work.”

She nodded as if she were a wise sage. “Yes, cuz his job is 'portant.”

I kept grinning as I clipped his bib and harness back on. “Yes it is, he keeps me out of trouble.”

Then she nodded then smiled. “You gots thick glasses.”

I felt self-conscious suddenly and nodded as I absently pushed my glasses farther up my nose and said as cheerfully as I could muster, “Why yes, I do.” The mother pulled her daughter back around and whispered something in her ear and the little girl looked back at me then back to her mum. When the bus came to a stop. I gathered my things and grabbed the handle of my equipment case and headed for the door.

The little girl gave a cute “Goodbye Sir Percival!” as we walked past. I clunked my case down the steps and onto the walk, then gave the driver a little wave. With a belch of black diesel smoke, the roar of the engine that sent red spikes through me, they were off.

I looked around and smiled. Covent Garden! The core of the art district. I felt so privileged to be here. As a street performer, being authorized to busk here was an honor. Most neighborhoods and boroughs require permits for buskers, street musicians, and most even require auditions to ensure the quality of the performer. In some cases, the permit is free and in others it can cost five to ten pounds. Covent Garden? Well it is a little different.

They turn down nine out of ten performers and if you are lucky enough to get through their screening, the permit is a whopping fifty pounds. You are out the fifty whether they award you a permit or not, so it is a risk and you have to be sure of yourself before you apply. This stops the art council from being buried in requests.

Of course, there are those street musicians who perform without permits. They usually scurry off at the first sign of a flatfoot. The bobbies are pretty good at chasing them off if their act is bad. Rule number one for playing on the streets, don't suck. Most buskers like me aren't destitute or anything like it, the bulk of us are trained professionals who use the opportunity to fine tune our skills and to ease our nerves performing in front of people.

I remember when the Arts Council of Covent Garden called me in for an audition. I had been on the list for months. I was so nervous I almost couldn't set up my equipment. But once I removed my glasses when I was ready so that I could live my music and become part of it, I was in my element.

They excused me with a message that they had never quite seen or heard anything like it and they would have to discuss it among themselves. I had thought that was a polite, “We're sorry, but you aren't quite the caliber of performer we are used to.” I felt like a right git, and it cost me fifty quid to find that out. I figured I was destined to be a backup singer forever. I just wanted to hide away in the safety of my bedroom.

A week later I received an email from the council. I was granted a permit! I'm sure that the astronauts on the space station could have seen my smile from there.

Learning the ins and outs of the Covent Garden district was pretty much the same as other London neighborhoods, and the short stint I had playing down in the Tube. You are limited to forty-five minutes at any one street corner before you have to move along. This stops any one performer from monopolizing any prime locations. It also is a problem for people like me who relied heavily on equipment to make our music. It was taking me almost ten minutes to set up and ten to tear back down, eating up almost half of my valuable performance time.

Mom found an instrument repair shop, Broken Note, and the tinkers there used a rolling case to make a portable setup that allowed me to cut the setup time in half. My equipment is stacked in it and pre-hooked-up in such a way that I could trim a lot of time messing with things when I prepare to sing. It still took some time to coil cords and get things packed back in, so I didn't gain much time there, but it was way more convenient being in one case.

I just wish it were lighter. More than two-thirds of the weight are the deep cycle marine battery and inverter to run my amplifier and various other equipment. The battery alone weighs almost twenty-three kilos and is a pain in my arse to charge every couple days.

Most of the performers in the district are a friendly and supportive lot. Though there are a couple wankers, who believe they are above the rest of us and feel like it is some sort of competition out here in the streets. I suppose that is inevitable, no matter what group of people you throw together, that you get a couple bad apples.

I felt the constant pressure of Percy on my leg as I walked, doing his job to keep me from the curb. I smiled down at him. I really didn't need him when I had my glasses on, but I just really loved having him with me. He is my biggest fan and he gives me moral support.

I was already catching the beat of the area as I started moving down the walk. The steady thrum of tires as automobiles passed by, the bright yellow and purple of bird chirps in the sparse landscaping along the walks. The blue murmurs of people talking as they walked. The reddish pink tap, tap, tap of a woman wearing heels walking past. I started swaying to the beat as I walked, the music of life in the city playing in my soul. I wanted to start drumming on my hips, but one hand was on the case handle the other on Percy's harness.

I noticed his tail start wagging. How does he always know when the music was taking me, it seems to get him excited. I did a quick dance slide for him and his tail increased its speed and I sang to him, “Ba da bup bup.” in time with the thrumming inside. I grinned down at him. I debated where I wanted start, either near the Benjamin Franklin House or the main market. That was it, the Apple Market by the Punch and Judy!

I turned down Henrietta past Saint Paul's and started bouncing as I stepped as we walked past Carrick playing his Irish flute. The sound painted a canvas of blues and purples in my vision and warm warbling jabs in my gut. I dropped the handles I was holding and twirled to place my back against his as he played, and I let my head flop back over the shorter bloke's shoulder and I grinned at him as I playfully sang a line to the piece he was playing, Bonnie Lass of Fyvie, in my best Irish lilt. “There's many a bonnie lass in the glen of Auchterless.”

He gave a grin and a wink as I chuckled and twirled back to Percy and took my things and stepped off in time with the beat. A couple people dropped some quid into his case. Carrick is a good bloke and was one of the first buskers to welcome me to the Garden and show me the ropes.

The other was my girl crush turned best friend, Rayleigh, she has a voice that makes me sigh and want to follow her around like a puppy. But alas the playful, golden-voiced siren isn't gay, not that I'd stand a chance with her anyway, she is soooo out of my league. She sort of adopted me, and Ray and her beau, Randall, get me to go out of my comfort zone and do things other than music.

I found a corner of the open cobblestone square and settled in next to a big stone pillar under the clock at Saint Paul's. I grinned, the market had just opened at ten thirty and there were plenty of sounds around to inspire my creativity. I caught myself humming and tapping my hip as I situated my case, dropped the lid down and set up my laminated permit and a placard with my name on it in front of the upside down lid.

The front folded down and I slid out my pedals. I had a six loop pedal with a mute. I plugged in my mic into the pedal input then the pedals to the amp. As I idly sang to myself, “Ba da doo doo bap,” swaying to the music of the world as I set everything up. I'd have to spring for the programmable eight pedal setup one day as I keep adding more loops to my performance as my craft improved. Until then, I took the iPad out of its slot in the case and hooked it into the amp and loaded the looping app, I'd just have to make due with this. I had two huge buttons set up on the pad I could use to loop extra tracks.

I slid out the mic stand and put it in front of me and laid out the mat that was rolled up in a slot in the case beside it, Percy sat on the mat then curled in. Then I tested the volume on the amp then went about creating music with the world around me.

A couple people started to wander over with looks of curiosity on their faces. I needed the sound, so I did my last bit of prep... removing the glasses and the world was a blurry fog punctuated with the bursts of color and the feel of the sounds that surrounded us. I slid my glasses in my pocket and stomped a pedal when I heard the laboring of the gears in the clock above me and slapped the mic in a four beat as I mimicked the sound with my voice. “Unnnnh chock unh.”

I followed a burst of purples punctuated with red, children laughing like a brook trickling between rocks in the sunshine. I kicked a pedal. “Daduh dadadaaa da da daaada.”

I caught my own drumming on my hip with a third, as my mind reeled with the possibilities... the song of the day, it was spring. I took a couple more samples, then sang some words of spring. “Like a flower, the day blooms, the sunlight meets the joy.” Caught it. Alright, I had a whole new song vibrating through my being, waiting to explode from me as I started dancing to the feeling. I started playing back my loops, with skilled stomps of my feet. As each loop was added in a song of the love of spring was assembled and burst out to greet the people in the market.

I put the mic in the stand and started singing my improvised song, and the shadows of people closed in on me as I ad-libbed a tune of finding fun in the world as it is renewed, of love and family and all things bright. One person stood directly in front of me. The dark shadow of them gave the impression they were crossing their arms in front of me.

At the bridge, I slapped my hand where I knew the right side of my iPad sat beside me was. I danced and swayed, drumming on my hips and stomach to add more percussion in counterpoint to the music that was striking my heart and vibrating through my body. My own voice lent backup in different octaves, turning me into a choir.

I could feel the energy of the people around me so I clapped my hands toward the dark shapes in my blurry world and they all joined in, lending more energy to me. All except that one person in front of me who stood, unmoving.

This was so much fun and upbeat, I couldn't stop my smiles as I hit a power note. We aren't supposed to be too loud, it is frowned upon here but the music was moving me. A moment later on the refrain when I was slowly subtracting samples from the loop, some shapes moved in beside me and sang the refrain with me in perfect harmony.

It was the Robinsons! They were a wonderful vocal quartet that busked here in the Garden, and quite a riot. The sister, Amy, ran roughshod over her three teenage brothers. I loved listening to them perform. They could mix classical with modern rock and do it barbershop quartet style.

I grinned around in their general direction, picking out their shadows and bowing my head in thanks as we finished the refrain as I killed all the loops to leave our voices raw and exposed to the world. It felt like a pure vibration to me, the colors making a wave in my vision that subsided as we finished.