Street Sounds
Why Musicians Around Town Take Their Songs To the Sidewalk

By Chris Richards
Special to the Washington Post
Sunday, October 7, 2007; N01

There's a song waiting for you at the top of the escalator.

A sax player is perched there, watching commuters pour out of the Farragut North Metro station as he honks on a Coltrane-inspired version of "My Favorite Things."

Or maybe it's an old Beatles tune courtesy of the bespectacled dude brandishing the electric guitar.

Or some Bach. Some blues. Maybe a little go-go.

For many of Washington's street musicians, rush hour is showtime. They select the tunes, and we supply the beat: a cadence of loafers and pumps marching in and out of the workaday world.

They provide a soundtrack for our weekends, too. Outside bars, in parks, at farmers markets and on busy street corners, they're strumming, bleating, crooning and thumping along to the sounds of the city.

And while they appreciate our pocket money, these musicians are ultimately after something else: our respect. We caught up with five performers who have brought their sounds to area streets over the years.

The Veteran

JAMES "KENYATTA" PALMORE, 67, of the District is a retired music teacher and Vietnam veteran who has been playing music on sidewalks outside Metro stations and stadiums for more than 25 years.

When did you start playing saxophone?

Oh, about 30 years ago. I did eight years in the military and took my G.I. Bill and decided that that's what I wanted to do. I listened to the greats: Miles Davis, Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, Ramsey Lewis, Bud Powell, Dizzy [Gillespie]. They got stuck in my head.

How did you learn to play?

I took lessons at the University of the District of Columbia, and I had some very fine professors. [One] professor told us that black sax players are a dime a dozen. "Get a flute or a clarinet, and I'll give you a sax lesson here and there." So in order to get the saxophone together, I had to study classical music on the flute. And I fell in love with it.

Did you ever play professionally?

I had a couple bands but, you know, that doesn't go over too well when you have a family and a wife. Coming in late at night? Man, it wasn't happening. I never fooled myself that I was going to be great or anything. It's just the love of the music that drives me.

So how did you start playing in the streets?

I had a professor; he said, " . . . you can make money out there!" He was right, but it depends on how good you are. Just 'cause you're on the streets doesn't make you a musician.

You get some tough critics out here?

Yeah, especially [little] kids from the suburbs; they have good ears. They know when you're [faking].

What's the biggest misconception you face?

Some of these musicians out here are not homeless. A lot of people don't understand that, especially black people. Why would I be out here with rings on my finger?

Are you out performing seven days a week?

Not every day, but sometimes I'll go out four, five, six straight days. Knowing the cold weather is coming, I've gotta put some eggs in the basket.

Where are your regular spots?

Around Connecticut Avenue -- what you'd call the financial district -- [and] around Dupont Circle, the Verizon Center, RFK. I take the flute out on weekends over at Eastern Market and do classical music. Love Mozart, Handel, Chopin and them.

What kind of tips to do you get?

You can get all kinds of tips -- from 2 cents to $20 to $50. Every now and then somebody will drop a C-note.

Do you busk for a living?

I do this for the love, not because I have to. I'm retired, but this allows me to save. There are some musicians out here who make their living, but I wouldn't want to come out here knowing that I have to play my horn to pay my rent. I ain't playing my horn to pay a car note.

So it's about freedom for you.

It's freedom -- you said a mouthful. You can never become what you want to be working for someone else. Believe that.

The Pianist

On temperate Sunday afternoons, JOEL BAILES, 59, of Capitol Hill rolls his upright piano down the block to play roots music with family and friends in front of Riverby Books (417 East Capitol St. SE). His customized piano is tricked out with a shade umbrella, a kazoo rack and a beer canteen.

When did you start playing in the streets?

I played [fiddle] in Georgetown in the early '70s, off and on for pocket money. Sometimes I'd make $6 an hour for an average. . . . The fiddle is hard when you're nervous . . . so after a month of trial by fire I had gotten my sea legs. Since then I've always been able to play for anybody, anywhere without a lot of . . . trouble, and worry, and anxiety. My wife would come by -- with such chutzpah -- she'd come to the case and take out whatever money she needed for drinks. Like it was this free well for her! It was funny.

What gave you the idea for this portable piano?

It was my dream to have a street piano. And the problem was with this custom-made dolly. These are 10-inch pneumatic wheels; they inflate to 50 pounds. They're sort of like car tires. They support 1,200 pounds, and this is only like 450 pounds, so it's an easy load.

Is it hard to wheel it out here?

They actually have piano lanes here in Capitol Hill, but sometimes the bikers use them, too.

And you don't do this alone.

My son [Brendan Bailes] plays when he's in town. My wife [Pearl Bailes] always plays with us. . . . She plays harmonica, and she's fabulous. My brother [Dan Bailes] plays drums; he'll pull up any moment with his drum set.

Do you ever accept tips?

No, it's just for social reasons. I'm a real Hill person, and it doesn't work to have people that you have dinner with tipping you. If they give you money, it's condescending. If they don't give you money, then they're not contributing! I think it's awkward.

So you don't make your living out here every Sunday.

I have tons of money because I work at the Library of Congress and I don't buy much -- except on eBay, where everything is cheap.

What kind of crowds do you draw?

Sometimes it's very -- to use a fancy word -- exiguous: There are two or three people. But the other extreme, there could be 30 people. If there's one or two people here, I've got an audience and I'm all fired up.

So no money, small crowds, heavy piano. Why do you do this?

Performers really want to play. Kurt Vonnegut had this idea that before electronic media, every town had musicians to entertain everyone. And then records, radio, TV came in, and those people became worthless. They had no avenue. In the present day there's tons of us who play music, and we don't have a place to play it. Getting professional work is hard, and it's almost unheard of to make a living with it unless you're a star or something.

How long will you be out here this fall?

Thank God for Bush and global warming -- I don't think we're gonna have winter! If it's 65 [degrees] or over, I'll be playing.

The Songwriter

Yo u can find singer, guitarist and self-described 40-something MARK FRANCIS NICKENS of Silver Spring performing classic pop tunes -- and a few of his own songs -- at Metro stops nearly every morning.

How did you get started?

I started playing out in the streets back in the mid-'80s, just to get out there and play. When I started doing it, I had my own group and I had just been touring with a couple of Top 40 bands. Nothing really serious. But once I started [busking], the money was just as good, if not better, than what I made in the clubs.

Wow.

I've done a lot of bands. I did Woodstock '99 with a band called Rushmore -- played on the big stage and didn't make a dime. For the most part, when you're in a band it's more or less a labor of love.

So you make your living out here?

Yeah, but I was never one driven by the almighty dollar. If I have a bill I have to take care of, I'll get out there and play a lot.

And you're out playing almost every morning?

I usually start around 7:30. The idea is to get there early.

Do you ever have to compete with other musicians for a spot?

There are people who want to hit the same spots, but we all respect each other.

What's the most you've made during a morning rush hour?

Once I had a woman throw an envelope in there: It was 10 $20 bills. I've gotten a hundred before. One night I was doing Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On," and this guy came out of this bar and just started throwing twenties in there. He sat in the street and bobbed to the music.

Do you get recognized?

Oh, man, I was at Lakeforest Mall in Gaithersburg buying underwear, and some guy hands me a $5 bill, telling me how he liked the music.

What are the downsides to this work?

It's physically and mentally draining, and people don't give you the respect of other [professional] performers. But being out on the street, it comes with the territory. Some people will say the rudest things.

Like what?

This woman would leave notes that would say, "I don't like your music." Another note said it was "too loud." One day the same woman put a piece of newspaper in there. I pulled it out, and she had spat in it!

Gross!

Once, at Farragut North, this woman comes up behind me and whispers in my ear: "I wish you would go away!" And people don't have to tell me if they disapprove; I get a lot of looks. Sometimes young people with iPods, especially with young ladies, they'll give me looks like, "You're ruining my song." I'm like, "If you don't like it, keep on moving."

Sounds rough.

People will see me as a panhandler, and you won't convince them otherwise. Other people will admire a guy like [me] for doing his own thing.

So it's not all negative.

The positive [outweighs the negative] 100 to 1. Just this morning at Metro Center, this transit officer comes over with a cellphone and says, "Hey, man, I want you to say 'hi' to my mom." I say, "Hello?" She said, "I've been hearing a lot about you, and you're doing a wonderful thing. Keep doing what you're doing."

So you were supplying the background music while the cop talked to his mom?

I guess so.

What do you like best about your job?

I can play subway stops and be creative and play my own songs and see people respond. If I do James Taylor's "Fire and Rain" and someone drops me five bucks, and then I do one of my original songs and someone drops me five bucks, then maybe my song is as good as "Fire and Rain"!

The Untraditional Fiddler

Arlington resident YA SHENG LU, 59, has been performing traditional Chinese music on D.C. streets for the past six years. His instrument is a two-stringed fiddle called the erhu . Lu, who can often be found playing in front of downtown Metro stops, spoke through an interpreter.

How long have you been playing the erhu?

Since I was 6 years old.

Have you ever played music professionally?

I did not play music professionally, but when I was 16 years old, I once performed for high-ranking officers in China, which is a rare opportunity.

You often perform outside Metro stops. What has your experience with the commuters been like?

Delightful. Everyone is happy to see me. They are moved by my music, and some even cried.

Do you think listeners respond to your instrument differently than they do to more traditional instruments?

Yes, everyone is curious as to what I am playing. They like me very much. I was on the [local] news a couple of times.

How much money do you make out here?

That's not important. My main goal is to integrate American and Chinese culture.

Do you have another job?

I am a kitchen helper in a restaurant.

Have you ever had a particularly memorable experience while performing?

In 2005, during the Cherry Blossom Festival, I played . . . for Japanese and U.S. representatives. That was an unforgettable experience.

Are there downsides to busking?

The weather is not always pleasant. Summer is too hot to play outside, and in the winter, my fingers get numb. However, I do not let that affect my performances.

How about the upsides?

Audience appreciation. I enjoy playing when people look at me respectfully. I like to make people happy and inspire them through my music.

The Professional

ROBERT LIGHTHOUSE, 43, of Glen Echo is a working blues musician who got his start performing in the streets when he moved to Washington from Sweden in the late '80s. These days he sticks mostly to club work but still comes out to play in public when he's feeling spontaneous -- or needs a few bucks to fix a car.

When did you start performing in the streets?

In '87. Back in those days I was pretty known [in Washington] as a street musician. Then after a couple years, I started playing clubs.

And today you're a professional.

That's what I've been doing now. I don't really play in the streets [anymore]. Yesterday was the first time in 10 years.

So how often do you plan on doing it?

Once every 10 years.

[Laughter.]

No, I'm going to get out again today. It's good practice. You make contacts. There's only certain people that go to clubs, so you get to play for people who wouldn't otherwise see you.

What brought you out there yesterday?

My car was hit. It was very expensive to get it fixed and pass inspection. So that was partly why I went out: to make money.

But you have regular gigs?

Yeah, at Chief Ike's Mambo Room. I play all over. I've played the Birchmere, the Kennedy Center.

Does this feel like a return to your roots?

Yeah, and I discovered yesterday that I have a really good time. You can connect with people in ways that you can't in a club.

How so?

It's just different. I guess the street is very spontaneous. People will stop and form a crowd. It becomes like a little party right there in the street. You can have people coming home from work and then all of a sudden . . . people are dancing. It's just a sidewalk, but all kinds of things could happen.