My First Busking Experience
To give a little background on my performing experience, I’ve always been illogically petrified of it. The first time I ever sang in front of actual people was my 6th grade talent show about thirteen years ago. Needless to say anything else, I threw up five minutes before show time. I’ve been singing fearlessly behind closed doors since I was about six years old, but the minute I know someone’s listening, my voice seems to just fly out the window along with every ounce of musical confidence I have. It’s been a long, slow and painful process coming out of my tightly sealed shell. I’ve probably only performed a total of seven or eight times in my life, but I try to sing in front of more and more people every time I get the smallest urge to take the stage.
Deep down, I love performing so I needed to do something to force myself out of my comfort zone, so I moved to Europe… pretty drastic I know, but traveling solo brought out a whole new Emma. She wasn’t afraid of simple tasks anymore like talking to strangers and ordering coffee, which eventually translated into becoming more open to singing in public. After a few months of jumping around Europe and working a new job every couple of months, I decided it was time to bring the music back. I’d been putting it on the back burner and I find that whenever I do that, life isn’t as vibrant.
Along my travels I met a busker in Paris. We’ll call him Nikko. We got to talking about his life story of singing on the streets in foreign countries and making a living off of his voice and his very worn out guitar. It planted a seed in my cluttered mess of a head. Putting myself out there has never been my forte, but time passed and the idea becoming a busker became more and more plausible. I began to think of it as a real option. Besides, it was the perfect way to make a little extra cash while traveling and gain some performing experience at the same time. I’d be killing two birds with one stone. Awesome.
I ordered all the gear and stared at it day after day for a couple of weeks before I finally thought, ‘Screw it… let’s get this over with’. I was in Croatia at the time, so I packed everything up and set out to Zagreb’s main square. I was hardly prepared. I was sweating, shaking… the whole nine. I think I covered it up pretty well though. Years of social anxiety will teach you how to do that.
I forgot the lyrics at least ten times, voice-cracked maybe four times, and ran out of material way too quickly. Pretty much everything that I was always scared of that could go wrong... did (besides being boo’d off the street). But hey, I made $15 in 45 minutes… more than minimum wage! Even though it was far from a perfect performance, it really didn’t matter. People will watch you mess up, they’ll watch you nail it, and life goes on. The few people that did stop to watch and tip me made it all worth it. It reminded me why I love to sing. Music makes people happy and if I can be the source of anyone’s happiness, then my work is done.
The jitters are always going to be there. It’s just who I am... but I’m learning that even if a performance is a complete disaster, who cares? Sure, singing is fun, but the real reason artists are here is to share their passion with the hopes of making even the tiniest difference. Art in all forms inspires. As an artist, your mess-ups are never as bad as you make them out to be. We are truly our own worst critics. I now try to look at every loss as a gain since it’s the losses that are teaching me how to win.
