Buskers are the new beggars

I passed three of them yesterday – all as talented as tree stumps. One was dancing badly to George Michael, another one was balancing a plastic sword on her head that was thick and flat – more like a hat, and a sitar player who was playing to backing tracks. BACKING TRACKS.

I shouldn’t be bagging out other people – a friend and I busked at Kalamunda markets in March, and for all we know we’ve inspired a similar blog entry. We were on after Johnny Cash though – “Johnny Crash” to the locals – so the bar was set low, plus we were raising money for the tsunami relief fund thingy in Japan, so we could have played the triangle and people would still have loved us for our talentless altruism – (perhaps even more so, as a kind of metaphor for natural disasters.)

We’re on again next weekend, and because it really is better to receive than to give, we’re keeping the cash. I’m a bit nervous about not having my security charity blanket – now it’s just me, no cause and a disproportionately talented friend. I kind of hover behind her hoping that if I sing quietly enough, people will mistake my voice for hers. I don’t even attempt some of the higher notes – I just fade out and stand there opening and closing my mouth.

Still, my talent could be impersonating goldfish – it’s better than some of the other acts out there.