Perfect Pitch: Busking in Downtown Portland

Trudging through the snow this past December, grumbling about the weather and the amount of money I was spending on holiday gifts, I suddenly heard the strumming of a guitar, and a voice smooth as buttermilk, singing about love.

I was taken off guard. I was at the edge of Pioneer Square, about to go into Nordstrom's and I was face-to-face with a young couple, dressed more like it was 1940 than almost 2009, singing and collecting tips in an old coffee can. They were so good; I couldn't believe they weren't famous. Because of the experience, I started paying attention to other street musicians, and realized there were quite a lot of them in the downtown area. Even on a day when I felt rushed and overwhelmed, like the day of my holiday shopping excursion, I felt compelled to pause and appreciate the performances. I started to wonder about them: did they have other jobs? Were they making enough money to support themselves? How did they decide which corner was whose? Was it legal? I had so many questions. 

Although Busking is an English term referring to street performers who usually work for tips, its root is the Spanish buscar, meaning "to seek." Whether seeking fame, money, or just a little attention, it seems a fitting moniker. And whether it be the Elvis impersonator seen outside of Powell's on West Burnside, the plastic tub drummers by the MAX stop on Morrison, or Boy & Bean, with their Depression-era music outside of Nordstrom's, they do seem to attract a lot of positive attention from the residents of—as well as tourists visiting—Portland.

I did a bit of research and found out, as I suspected from the lack of police interference in the downtown performances, that busking is a protected practice under U.S. laws pertaining to artistic free speech. Public parks, town squares and streets and sidewalks are designated for acts of free speech—all common spots for buskers to perform. The Portland Business Alliance has a Street Performance Partnership which outlines some rules to keep everyone safe and treated fairly. The place where a busker performs is referred to as his pitch.

 

 The Miss Me's

I found that my question about whether or not these folks tended to be homeless was also a common misconception, and that most buskers are not, and may be offended to know that they are confused as such. They do sometimes have trouble with panhandlers setting up camp near them, however, which further confuses the situation. These panhandlers range from harmless, to creating a nuisance for either the buskers, their audiences, or both.

Busking has been around for centuries, and the premise has remained largely the same—musicians, orators, actors performing on the street for tips—until the 21st century. There is a new way to busk, that involves less exposure to the elements, and an ability to reach a much wider audience. Cyber Busking refers to artists who post their work or performances on the internet, allowing people from all over the world to download or stream, using services like PayPal to make donations to the performers they admire.

Tex Winters & Orange Lazarus

While reading about the practices of buskers was interesting, I was ready to get some first hand accounts. Richard Mavis is not a busker—he says he limits his own singing to the shower—but is a big fan. He, like me, found himself slowing down to enjoy the performances on the downtown streets of Portland, and began wondering about the buskers, too.

"Cities are better with buskers," Mavis contends. "I like buskers and tip them whenever I can. I got the idea one night that a big organized busking event could be a win for everyone." So he began planning for such an event, calling it The Big Busk. He did all of the organizing himself, lining up 21 acts to play up and down Southwest Broadway on a sunny Saturday afternoon in July.

 Krebsic Orkestar

Despite the fact that there were a few last minute cancellations, Mavis says that the event went well. He says all the feedback that he got from people who attended—or stumbled upon—the event really enjoyed it, so he plans to do another one.

"This one was an experiment—all involved knew that from the beginning," he says. He learned, through tip disparities mostly, that some areas were better than others, and that the pitches where more than one act played in the same hour definitely drew more spectators. Although many acts said that they played because they believed in the spirit of the event more than doing it for money, he hopes that a little more organization next time will bring in more revenue for the performers. His whole mission was to celebrate the professional buskers, but, he says, acts with more players—bands that are not necessarily everyday buskers—seemed to get more attention. He wonders if misconceptions about busking might be the cause; do solo street musicians not seem as ‘legitimate' as bands in some way?

 Tex Winters & Orange Lazarus

"I had gross and embarrassing misconceptions about buskers," he admits, thinking that they were homeless. He says it's reasonable to think that other people might have similar ideas, and maybe that's why some spectators thought donations of food out of their grocery bags would be a fitting tip.

 Krebsic Orkestar

He anticipates that through promotion of the next event, he can help promote street performers and debunk myths surrounding their age-old art.