Alan Tennie

STRUGGLING to unclench the fingers of a drunk from my microphone while he chants football songs to the shoppers of Glasgow’s Buchanan Street, I found myself thinking, “Maybe this isn’t worthwhile.”

But despite the hardships and headaches, busking offers a sense of freedom, fulfilment and gratification unobtainable from other types of performance. Having played my fair share of gigs, large and small, there is an unsurpassable sensation of appreciation when members of the public take time to stop and enjoy live street performance and part with hard-earned cash.

It is not for the faint hearted. It takes a lot of gall to set up on a busy street. If you underperform, you are ruining the day for people who didn’t want to hear you in the first place.

People often think there must be safety issues but for the most part I am playing in clear view of shoppers and shop owners. This doesn’t prevent the odd drunk slowly leaning over my case and pretending to put money in while picking up a few quid before turning with a look on his face that suggests I was somehow in the wrong for questioning his intentions.

The worst thing that could happen isn’t aggravation from drunks, noise complaints or even the weather. It is opening my guitar case after an hour-long journey into town only to discover I’ve forgotten my capo.

The capo, a clamp used to alter the tuning, and therefore the key, of the song being played, is a busker’s best friend. Without it, an entire day’s earnings, performing and time crumbles to the ground. There is nothing more disheartening that returning to the train station, £4.90 ticket in hand, well aware that by the time you reach home all the best busking spots will be occupied.

While there is much to be said for the pleasure of coins jingling by my side and my cash-filled guitar case undergoing a notable weight change by the end of the day, the real appeal of busking lies within the nature of social interactions.

When an elderly lady approaches you, teary eyed, because your rendition of Buddy Holly’s Everyday provoked memories of her recently passed husband, a momentary relationship is formed. Or when a middle-aged man needs someone to talk to about how much he used to love music before his life took a turn for the worse, there is a stranger with whom he can openly converse outwith the normal institutions provided by society.

The gratification offered in these moments is matched only when arriving home with life stories you would otherwise not have had the chance to hear. While fleeting, it is these daily interactions that make busking worthwhile.

For every drunk adamant he can play Wonderwall there is an endless stream of people looking for someone to talk to, and hoping they will listen. This is an opportunity for people to discuss their lives, the lives of others, or the life they wish they had.