Bustin’ Through The Barriers Of Fear!
My First Busking Experience By Rebecca Coe
My first busking experience took place in Byron Bay, NSW, in early 2003. I was in the midst of a drunken adventure across Australia with my then-boyfriend, and we had little care for anything apart from consuming obscene amounts of alcohol and causing mischief from border to border. As a result of our constant state of obliteration I cannot quite remember much at all from that journey, however a milestone like one’s first busking experience is not easily forgotten.
Due to the nature of our adventure and our mutual conviction that we were ‘chosen ones’ being guided by the forces of the universe towards a brilliant destiny (like I said, sobriety was indeed rare on this journey), we found ourselves utterly lost - broke and starving in Byron with no place to live and no money for food, accommodation and god-forbid - alcohol. And so it came to be that I was forced to set up with my lucky hat and guitar on the main drag, right outside the Commonwealth Bank, and busk for money for the first time in my life.
At this stage in my musical evolution I was petrified at the idea of people hearing me play, I had enough trouble playing the guitar in front of my boyfriend, let alone a street full of strangers. The prospect of setting up and playing my very personal music in such circumstances had my stomach hardened with panic from the second we agreed it was our only option. Had the situation been any less dire there was no way I would’ve done such a thing!
So I positioned myself on the sidewalk outside the bank that morning, placed my lucky hat in front of me, pulled my purple glitter guitar from its cloth case and swallowed a few gulps of pure fear before beginning the first song with sweaty, shaking fingers. I had chosen to play all instrumentals, (my own compositions) and tried to force the image that I was sitting safely in my bedroom back in Western Australia, not on the footpath on the other side of Australia, broke and terrified.
An interesting and surprising thing happened after I had completed my first song. I was approached by a dark-skinned man with a braided pony-tail and a british accent. He was very suave and smartly dressed, introduced himself as ‘THE man - Johnny Fire’ and said he was holding auditions for a house band at a club on Queensland’s Gold Coast. He complimented my guitar playing and encouraged me to go and audition for it. He dropped four dollars in my lucky hat, gave me his mobile number and then sauntered on down the road. Now I knew I wasn’t going to be auditioning for any house band anywhere, but his encouragement and compliments had achieved something far more wondrous - the rock of nerves inside my stomach had vanished, during our conversation I had relaxed and was even almost comfortable there in the morning sunlight, playing my glitter guitar in full view of all who passed by.
And so I continued without my nerves curdling and my hands sweating. I played for just over half an hour, marvelling at the sight of people from different walks of life placing change in my lucky hat. At one point a drunken woman staggered past and in her wobbling stride bent down and swiped $2 without missing a beat. I was shocked and incensed, she was obviously better off than me - at least she could afford to already be drunk! I watched with a dark glare as she zig zagged along the sidewalk until she disappeared from view, ‘karma will get you’ I thought angrily. I’m sure this happens to every busker at some stage, but I wasn’t quite prepared for it!
Despite being robbed I began to really enjoy myself, sitting there playing guitar in the sun, having (mostly) friendly folk drop coins into my lucky hat and receiving smiles and thumbs up from passers by.
Then I saw the local police approaching and I knew my time was up. Obviously I had no permit for busking and certainly had no intention of getting one either. They politely waited for me to finish the song I was playing, and then asked me for my permit, naturally I pretended I had no idea I needed such a thing. They were reasonable chaps, gave me instruction on where to get a permit and didn’t serve me with an infringement which was very nice of them, then before they moved on they complimented my playing! I was positively gob-smacked and amazed – I must’ve done alright if even the local coppers had some kind words to offer! They left me to pack my things and vacate the area, which I did obligingly with an unfamiliar sense of elation flowing through my veins.
Back at the car we hungrily counted up the change, and were delighted to discover I’d made fourteen dollars (technically sixteen) in the forty minutes I was there. It was enough to buy bread, cheese, peanut butter and a cask of cheap red wine. Mission accomplished- we could survive to eat and get drunk for another day!
Aside from then being able to afford food and other such things, my first busking experience was a personal lesson in facing fear. The prospect of playing music in public had terrified me for years, but once I did it I realised it wasn’t that bad, quite enjoyable in fact.
I never saw ‘THE man Johnny Fire’ nor the Byron police again, but Mr Fire’s timing was impeccable and unexpected compliments from the cops a definite boost of esteem. I felt fantastic as I walked back to the car with my glitter guitar, a fear faced and conquered, the result - a feeling of achievement unlike any I had previously known.
I am very VERY thankful to have had the experience. I now have my own band and as we are starting out playing gigs etc, it is helpful to remember that the awful sensation of panic and nervousness before playing has got nothing on the thrill of elation and achievement that flows after the show is done. It was my first busking experience that taught me this and I will certainly never, ever forget it.