Busking in Philadephia, and Beyond

I'm sitting in Bangor, Maine, looking out onto the Penobscot River toward Brewer.  It's a quiet morning in Bangor.  The summer sun is rising over the town across the river called Brewer.  In a previous life I lived in Bangor.  Far from the streets of Philadelphia.
My son Andre lives in downtown Bangor, which has changed a lot since I lived here.  In the 80's Bangor felt like it was locked in the 1920's.  Still a frontier town.  It has become gentrified in the meantime, featuring art galleries, bagel shops and cafes, many ethnic restaurants run by middle-eastern and eastern immigrants, and even a shop for waterpipes. 
It has a little square in the middle of town with outdoor cafe seating and pub seating.
And, to my surprise, buskers.
Three young people were playing guitar yesterday when my son and his friend John and I walked by. 
I'm impressed...
I'm tempted to give it a whirl myself.

I have a high-school buddy I've been in contact with lately who lives in Brevard County in Florida.  They have an organization for street musicians down there.  Very cool.  And the people I hang out with in Florida when I visit my mom and step-father also play for certain events on the streets of Mt. Dora.  Matter of fact, that's how my mom and step-father got started with their music in Florida, busking on the walkway next to Lake Eustis.

Clinton is an seasoned street musician in Philadelphia...a laid-back Black dude who knows the ropes and has been busking his whole life.  Sometimes we chat about busking, like fisherman, discussing what pool in what hidden part of the lake might yield the biggest fish.  He talks about New York City...the Village, Battery Park, and about how he'll head up there when he needs a change of atmosphere.  Spend a few days, make a few dollars, then return to Philly with a fresh perspective.  Clinton is cool.  When I play in Old City or in Suburban Station, he often trucks by, dragging his shopping cart, which he has scientifically packed, to maximized the space for all his equipment...folding chair, music stand, horn, and whatever.  Yes, Clinton is cool.  He embraces the world with his music.  I hope I'm as cool as he is, when I grow up.

It's Saturday.  And last night was Friday.  I'm a little itchy, thinking about not having busked last night in Old City.  Or tonight.  Away from the Streets of Philadelphia.

Which is a song by Bruce Springsteen that I've added to my setlist.  Great song.  I'll leave you with the lyrics.

Streets of Philadelphia
I was bruised and battered, I couldn't tell what I felt
I was unrecognizable to myself
Saw my reflection in a window and didn't know my own face
Oh, brother, are you gonna leave me wasting away
On the streets of Philadelphia

I walked the avenue 'til my legs felt like stone
I heard the voices of friends vanished and gone
At night I hear the blood in my veins
just as black and whispery as the rain
On the streets of Philadelphia

Ain't no angel gonna greet me
It's just you and I, my friend
and my clothes don't fit me no more
I walked a thousand miles just to slip this skin.

The night is falling, I'm lying awake
I can feel myself fading away
So receive me, brother, with your faithless kiss,
Or will we leave each other alone like this
On the streets of Philadelphia....