A couple years ago during Christmas time, Lisa and I did not play Christmas carols. We were of the mindset that everyone gets sick of Christmas carols around Christmas time since they hear them everywhere every year for their whole lives. Boy were we wrong. So we're doing our usual assortment of covers and originals and this guy dressed like Santa Claus comes up to us reeking of vodka.
"Why don't you play Christmas songs?" he asked.
"People get sick of Christmas songs," we replied. Lisa asked a woman standing near us if she wanted to hear Christmas songs.
"Yes!" she said enthusiastically.
Assuming that this must be some kind of mistake, we tried asking some more people. Lisa asked a guy standing near us, and he was like "I love Christmas songs!" We asked a few more people and pretty much got the same response. The drunk Santa was so adamant about us singing Christmas songs that he stole one of the microphones and was saying "Ho! Ho! Ho!" very loudly into it, whispering to us that he was doing this to protest us not doing Christmas songs.
There were two problems in us doing Christmas songs. #1 we had a general idea of a lot of the songs, but did not really know almost any of the words. #2 We did not know the guitar for any of the songs. So we made a decision right then and there to delve into uncharted territory.
I started singing Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones but changed the lyrics to fit the Christmas spirit- and thus "Wild Reindeer" was born, an epic about a reindeer strike before Christmas and other complications (like Blitzen's drinking) that made Santa nervous he could not get ready in time. You can hear the song at http://www.daveandlisamusic.com/WILDREINDEER People seemed to be loving it and we made good tips. Santa sang along while intermittently taking swigs from his listerine bottle. We were the fab three. We started getting more confident and made new hits like "Friend of Santa" a Grateful Dead parody, and even did Felice Navidad (Lisa knew the Spanish parts), and Santa Clause is coming to town. We did Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah and people even thought that was a Christmas song. In the Subway, you can make a lot of noise with just a few songs.
Drunken Santa started going around the platform shaking everyone's hands, wishing them a Merry Christmas and giving them gifts from a bag he had (that appeared to be samples from the nearby Filene's Basement and Macy's). We were getting along great. For 2 hours we were on cloud nine or as they say in Christmas lingo at the North Pole. Drunken Santa even gave me an extra Santa hat and made me an honorary Christmas helper.
Part II: The Three Stages of Drunkeness
It has seemed to me over the years that there are three stages of drunkeness:
#1 There's the phase where your inhibitions start to go away, and you start feeling happy.
#2 There is a feeling of elation, like you are on top of the world (think Leo DiCaprio in Titanic: "I'm king of the world!"; on second thought maybe don't think that), the world is your party.
#3 Complete anger, rage, and madness!
We watched our Santa friend go through all of these stages and even some new uncharted frontiers as he continued to take swigs from the Listerine bottles. We at first got comfortable and chummy together like we were the Scooby Doo gang: he could have been Shaggy and I was Scooby and Lisa was Daphne or something like that. But as time progressed, Santa's (or Shaggy's- I think I'm losing the analogy here) inhibitions had him saying some not so nice things to Daphne. He yelled at her when she tried to play an original song, and said that when she sang he just did not feel it. It was like being at a party and everyone's digging their favorite song and then someone tampers with the record and there is this giant scratching noise.
Part III: The Escape Artist
One of the requirements of being a subway musician is the ability to get out of a situation, no matter how difficult. We are social escape artists, if you will. We had a problem here. Daphne was not happy because Shaggy had eaten too many Scooby snacks and had to go. But how do you tell a jolly, Listerine drinking Santa who is starting to get agressive that it's time to go? The way I chose was an analogy.
"Remember when the Beatles and the Rolling Stones did a Christmas concert together in the 60's? They did that show, and it was great, but after the show they went back to their own thing and did their own shows. I'm sorry man, we've had a great show, but I feel that we are holding you back, and you could have a great show at a different spot."
"You mean I'm holding you back!" he said.
My analogy was not working that well (maybe we are not quite social escape artists, but we strive for it). "No, we're holding you back. We did a great show together, and now it is time to do our own shows- Beatles and Stones, man!"
It was sad. It was like being with a friend that when you first met everything clicked and was perfect but then some time later, you said too much, got too close, learned too much about each other. Or maybe it wasn't exactly like that. But for a moment, it was beautiful. I will never forget you drunk Santa, singing your songs handing out your gifts and shaking hands with the good people of the T while drinking your listerine.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Saturday, February 05, 2005
My Worst Day Ever
My worst day, or worst couple of hours in the subway occurred about a week before this past Christmas. Lisa and I tried to get Redline Park Street spot, but our talented friend John, the classical guitar player, had beaten us there and expert fingerpicker, Michael Sullivan, had the spot for the remainder of the evening.
John suggested that we try upstairs at the Park Street Green Line spot. Unfortunately, the Park Street elevator was broken so we had to carry our 200 pounds of equipment up the stairs, while dodging hundreds of rush hour commuters scrambling to their connections. We set up upstairs and it was impossible to hear yourself think. The problem with playing the Green line is that there are always trains coming in or out because there are five different trains and there are three different tracks at that spot. It reminded me of living next to Route nine as a child as noisy trucks and cars came wizzing by.
We tried playing for about 15 minutes but no one could make out any of our lyrics and it was like we were not there. One guy got into us and asked if we played the Middle East or places like that and we gave him a gig card. A Berklee student came by and we immediately gave her the spot. She quickly set up all of her equipment next to us as we dismantled and took our stuff to Downtown Crossing to try our luck there.
Lisa went to get some food and make a phone call, and right when I set up I was immediately hassled by an MBTA employee. He complained that I did not have an MBTA ID around my kneck. This week it had been near freezing temperatures and I could not fit an ID around my kneck because like him, I had on a thick jacket and a scarf, and it was impossible for this little badge to fit around this. He went on to tell me that it wasn't placed well in my case, and the whole point of the badges is for us to wear them so they know that we're not terrorists or something like that.
(As a side note, I just read in the Boston Globe that in New Mexico, legislation is being passed that strippers must also wear ID badges. Do they think that strippers could also be terrorists? Or do city officials want an easier time of getting strippers contact info for private parties? Now they can get their real names and numbers, cuz before they would try to look up Amber or Star and get the wrong one? Subway musician and stripper badges, what's next? At least we are in good company.)
When Lisa got back, I was like this day sucks and I want to go home. She wanted to wait it out another hour to see if it would get better. The month before we had had some amazing days at this spot when the Red Sox had won the world series, and we were hoping with the Christmas spirit and all that it would still be good. I had been playing an hour by myself at this point and did not have that much to show for it.
I'm playing Simple Twist of Fate, and Lisa is eating a slice of pizza, and all of a sudden these three teenagers proceed to huddle around the case and check out the CD's. All of a sudden like synchronized swimmers, they simultaneously dive into the case, scoop up all of our money and run.
This was the last straw. Lisa was starting to agree with me at this point that the spot was not working out that well. I felt bad for these kids, because their pranks will probably get more and more serious until they could be shuffled through the US prison system, and it all started off robbing someone singing a Dylan song. To add insult to injury, they continued to tell me how much I sucked as they ran away.
(Atleast they didn't try to steal a song. I read in the Globe yesterday that an 83 year old dead woman was being sued by record companies for millions of dollars for illegally trading hundreds of pop and rap songs on her computer. It was later found that she did not like rap or pop and neither had nor knew how to use a computer, though the record companies did not drop the charges until they found out she was dead.)
A nice guy on the platform gave me a ten dollar bill after this happenned and urged me to quickly put it away before it gets stolen. Lisa and I start packing up. A man with a cowboy hat is getting off a train and walks towards us as Lisa is emptying the case and putting away the stuff. He has over 4 feet between us and the yellow line to walk by but instead decides to stop and glare at us.
"Get out of my way!" he yells at us. "You guys are blocking the platform." As he walks away I proceed to do what any good citizen would do at this point: give him the bird. It's funny how so many days are so great in the subway, but every once in a while you can have this day that is so bad that it is almost surreal. Maybe somewhere in this tragedy is the birth of comedy : )
John suggested that we try upstairs at the Park Street Green Line spot. Unfortunately, the Park Street elevator was broken so we had to carry our 200 pounds of equipment up the stairs, while dodging hundreds of rush hour commuters scrambling to their connections. We set up upstairs and it was impossible to hear yourself think. The problem with playing the Green line is that there are always trains coming in or out because there are five different trains and there are three different tracks at that spot. It reminded me of living next to Route nine as a child as noisy trucks and cars came wizzing by.
We tried playing for about 15 minutes but no one could make out any of our lyrics and it was like we were not there. One guy got into us and asked if we played the Middle East or places like that and we gave him a gig card. A Berklee student came by and we immediately gave her the spot. She quickly set up all of her equipment next to us as we dismantled and took our stuff to Downtown Crossing to try our luck there.
Lisa went to get some food and make a phone call, and right when I set up I was immediately hassled by an MBTA employee. He complained that I did not have an MBTA ID around my kneck. This week it had been near freezing temperatures and I could not fit an ID around my kneck because like him, I had on a thick jacket and a scarf, and it was impossible for this little badge to fit around this. He went on to tell me that it wasn't placed well in my case, and the whole point of the badges is for us to wear them so they know that we're not terrorists or something like that.
(As a side note, I just read in the Boston Globe that in New Mexico, legislation is being passed that strippers must also wear ID badges. Do they think that strippers could also be terrorists? Or do city officials want an easier time of getting strippers contact info for private parties? Now they can get their real names and numbers, cuz before they would try to look up Amber or Star and get the wrong one? Subway musician and stripper badges, what's next? At least we are in good company.)
When Lisa got back, I was like this day sucks and I want to go home. She wanted to wait it out another hour to see if it would get better. The month before we had had some amazing days at this spot when the Red Sox had won the world series, and we were hoping with the Christmas spirit and all that it would still be good. I had been playing an hour by myself at this point and did not have that much to show for it.
I'm playing Simple Twist of Fate, and Lisa is eating a slice of pizza, and all of a sudden these three teenagers proceed to huddle around the case and check out the CD's. All of a sudden like synchronized swimmers, they simultaneously dive into the case, scoop up all of our money and run.
This was the last straw. Lisa was starting to agree with me at this point that the spot was not working out that well. I felt bad for these kids, because their pranks will probably get more and more serious until they could be shuffled through the US prison system, and it all started off robbing someone singing a Dylan song. To add insult to injury, they continued to tell me how much I sucked as they ran away.
(Atleast they didn't try to steal a song. I read in the Globe yesterday that an 83 year old dead woman was being sued by record companies for millions of dollars for illegally trading hundreds of pop and rap songs on her computer. It was later found that she did not like rap or pop and neither had nor knew how to use a computer, though the record companies did not drop the charges until they found out she was dead.)
A nice guy on the platform gave me a ten dollar bill after this happenned and urged me to quickly put it away before it gets stolen. Lisa and I start packing up. A man with a cowboy hat is getting off a train and walks towards us as Lisa is emptying the case and putting away the stuff. He has over 4 feet between us and the yellow line to walk by but instead decides to stop and glare at us.
"Get out of my way!" he yells at us. "You guys are blocking the platform." As he walks away I proceed to do what any good citizen would do at this point: give him the bird. It's funny how so many days are so great in the subway, but every once in a while you can have this day that is so bad that it is almost surreal. Maybe somewhere in this tragedy is the birth of comedy : )
Friday, February 04, 2005
My Second Worst Subway Day Ever
I didn't play as much as I would have liked during the blizzard. It can be very hard to play the subway when it's cold out and there's lots of snow. It's weird, I don't mind playing the subway in the summer- it's nice and cool down there. One summer I played Harvard Sq. outside with a band and it would hit 90 degrees on some days and my stuff would start to melt.
One winter about 4 years ago during January, I had just gotten a new Crate limo and wanted to try it out. It did not cross my mind that it was one of the coldest days of the year. I got down to Park Street and this excellent classical guitarist Julian was there, and seemed to be doing pretty good, though he said it wasn't as good because of the cold. A Berklee student was there and he was so excited about getting to watch me play the subway. He was interested in buying an amp and trying it out himself.
Park Street is a good spot, late morning to early afternoon, and after 7PM to closing. But during morning and evening rushhour its is the pitts. Figure in that it was -20 below zero and you get the picture. So this very enthusiastic Berklee student is watching me for like 8 trains going by, and no one tips me the entire time. I felt like a leper. People would look at their pockets, and look at me and notice how they could see the cloud of their on breath and did not want to even try to attempt to take their wallets out.
I felt butterflies in my stomach and my head started spinning from the cold. I felt like a leper that everyone was trying to avoid like the plague. The Berklee student who seemed way less enthusiastic about playing the subways himself by then took a few pennies and nickels and through them to me, and said, "Sorry this is all I have," quickly avoiding my gaze in fear of catching my leper disease.
I felt tension in my face as I sang the songs. I just got to the point where I couldn't take it any more. I packed up my stuff, bundled up, and walked home through the New England Artic Chill.
One winter about 4 years ago during January, I had just gotten a new Crate limo and wanted to try it out. It did not cross my mind that it was one of the coldest days of the year. I got down to Park Street and this excellent classical guitarist Julian was there, and seemed to be doing pretty good, though he said it wasn't as good because of the cold. A Berklee student was there and he was so excited about getting to watch me play the subway. He was interested in buying an amp and trying it out himself.
Park Street is a good spot, late morning to early afternoon, and after 7PM to closing. But during morning and evening rushhour its is the pitts. Figure in that it was -20 below zero and you get the picture. So this very enthusiastic Berklee student is watching me for like 8 trains going by, and no one tips me the entire time. I felt like a leper. People would look at their pockets, and look at me and notice how they could see the cloud of their on breath and did not want to even try to attempt to take their wallets out.
I felt butterflies in my stomach and my head started spinning from the cold. I felt like a leper that everyone was trying to avoid like the plague. The Berklee student who seemed way less enthusiastic about playing the subways himself by then took a few pennies and nickels and through them to me, and said, "Sorry this is all I have," quickly avoiding my gaze in fear of catching my leper disease.
I felt tension in my face as I sang the songs. I just got to the point where I couldn't take it any more. I packed up my stuff, bundled up, and walked home through the New England Artic Chill.
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