The Morning Busker

I walk through a pretty depressing tunnel on my way to the subway every morning.  Nothing much to report about the tunnel itself, aside from the regular presence of the busker who sings there every single morning.  She’s a pretty regular style busker by all accounts, except for the fact that, well, she sings like crap.

I mean, even with my limited (read: zero) musical sensibilities I am confident in saying she sucks.  Making this worse, she sings (and I’m using this word in the most charitable way possible) songs I really like and now can’t listen to in the same way again.  This makes me angry.  What is worse than being angry in the morning?  Not much.

This morning she was torturing Yesterday.  The song is so tender, wistful and lovely - one of the best ever.  But out of her mouth?  I can’t fully explain.  My adjectives aren’t working properly it was just so, so, CRAP.  I’m certain she sang a verse in what she thought was French, but it was certainly no French I am familiar with.  She really likes the Beatles.  Poor Beatles.  We all know how hardcore they are with copyright and protecting their image – if they knew?  If they knew what she was doing they’d have her killed.  Which is what I will do myself if I ever hear her “singing” Here Comes the Sun.  That, my friends, is where I will draw the line of peaceful acceptance.

Now the kicker to my little busker pal, the thing that takes the experience from mere ear torture to something else altogether is if you steal a look at her, she looks so damn happy.  Blissful and completely full of joy possessing every happiness that could possibly be known to man ! There she is, plunking away on her portable keyboard contraption, killing songs I adore with this big – ass grin on her face completely lost in her “music”.   She has no clue.  But I guess that’s the point – if she knew how badly she sucked and how crap her voice sounded to everyone around her, she’d likely stop.

So, there I am, at once angry confused and amazed. 

Maybe the morning busker isn’t so crap after all.  (But she’s still dead if I ever hear her corrupt Here Comes the Sun).