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April 30, 2005

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I thought I was imagining things when I walked over to the window of my hotel room and looked down to the street below. And there he was, playing to the whole city block in downtown Phoenix. And, not only was he playing very poorly, he was also singing at the top of his voice. Now, if you could call this noise playing and/or singing, that might be a stretch. He was using the most cheesy organ sound that he could find on that little old battery-operated instrument, and was just banging out the most primitive plunking I think I've ever heard, while yelling out something that could most likely be heard somewhere in the deepest jungles of Africa. The singing and the playing did not seem to match at all, and I watched in awe as people would make it a point to walk around this guy, as far away as they could. Giving strange glances, they went on their way. But not only was this guy playing in a very odd manner, and nobody seemed to be acknowledging his attempts by paying him anything, but he also seemed to have picked the worst corner in the whole city to attract any attention. 

Now I'll be the first one to point out that everybody has their own diverse opinions and appreciation for music and art. And whatever this guy was doing, call it music or not, it was his performance and I, as an artist myself, have to respect that. For his interpretation was his own right. The expression of an artist is not always the appreciation of the moral majority and we have to welcome and accept the diversity. 
However, no matter what the reason was, I still wanted to shoot him and/or myself in the head, just to make the noise stop, and the pain go away.

Now on a very odd note (pun), the keyboard he was playing is the exact same model that I bought back in 1988, and still have in my collection. Although I never play it any more myself, I have, on a few occasions, loaned it out to some of my piano students.
And yes, he was using just about the most cheesy sound patch in that thing.

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