Love or hate them, street performers are a integral part of Chicago culture.
Here we take a look at who digs their crazy sounds, and who wishes they would pipe down.
Gary Teune
Issue date: 3/1/05 Section: Features
Among the thousands of bustling people that take the Red and Blue Lines on their daily commutes, there is a different kind of worker that is often under-appreciated, but seldom unnoticed: the street musician.
Many seem to be bothered by these extraordinary people, but there are some who do appreciate the effort. Mariel Marte, an Economics major at UIC said, "A lot of people travel alone, and the train can be boring. They give you something to listen to, even if it's only for five minutes."
People are always attracted by music, and find themselves carried along with the rhythm. Foot-taping while waiting for the train, or singing along to themselves, in one way or the other, street performers find a way to relate to everyone.
"I'm down here doing what I love, instead of punching someone else's clock," says Vo, a twenty-something guitar player with a scraggly beard. "I'm playing for all these people, for the love, for the exposure."
The Red Line Washington stop is Vo's stage. Between the clamor of inbound and outbound Red Line trains, Vo's electric guitar can be heard floating notes through the air accompanied by his singing, which goes into a microphone rigged up to an old scarf wrapped around his neck, and comes out of a small PA speaker on the floor. The last song of his set is an original; it's a slow, soulful tune called "Train Coming." It warrants applause from the bystanders, not to mention handful of loose change.
Vo has been playing guitar for nine years, and with experience and talent seems to conquer the heart of any listener. Just like Wap and Prince, Vo's only job is playing music for the people. He does this for the pleasure of performance, and the sometimes-selfish attention he gets from others.
Miss Flow, another street performer, says that you have to be a pretty good to make it on the street music scene - it's the public that ultimately decides who the good musicians are by keeping them financially afloat.
"I've seen people come down here and sing for hours and hours and not make nothing," Vo said. Those are the people who seldom, if ever, come back. Only the ones who find listeners can survive and the creativity takes off from there.
Street musicians provide the public with free entertainment. The donations they ask for are optional and they just happen to depend on those for survival. They deserve attention, not only for the sake of audience, but also for the sake of survival. As their place in our society was shaping up, they found the best and only way for them to make it, as Vo put it: "by doing what we love."
Many seem to be bothered by these extraordinary people, but there are some who do appreciate the effort. Mariel Marte, an Economics major at UIC said, "A lot of people travel alone, and the train can be boring. They give you something to listen to, even if it's only for five minutes."
People are always attracted by music, and find themselves carried along with the rhythm. Foot-taping while waiting for the train, or singing along to themselves, in one way or the other, street performers find a way to relate to everyone.
"I'm down here doing what I love, instead of punching someone else's clock," says Vo, a twenty-something guitar player with a scraggly beard. "I'm playing for all these people, for the love, for the exposure."
The Red Line Washington stop is Vo's stage. Between the clamor of inbound and outbound Red Line trains, Vo's electric guitar can be heard floating notes through the air accompanied by his singing, which goes into a microphone rigged up to an old scarf wrapped around his neck, and comes out of a small PA speaker on the floor. The last song of his set is an original; it's a slow, soulful tune called "Train Coming." It warrants applause from the bystanders, not to mention handful of loose change.
Vo has been playing guitar for nine years, and with experience and talent seems to conquer the heart of any listener. Just like Wap and Prince, Vo's only job is playing music for the people. He does this for the pleasure of performance, and the sometimes-selfish attention he gets from others.
Miss Flow, another street performer, says that you have to be a pretty good to make it on the street music scene - it's the public that ultimately decides who the good musicians are by keeping them financially afloat.
"I've seen people come down here and sing for hours and hours and not make nothing," Vo said. Those are the people who seldom, if ever, come back. Only the ones who find listeners can survive and the creativity takes off from there.
Street musicians provide the public with free entertainment. The donations they ask for are optional and they just happen to depend on those for survival. They deserve attention, not only for the sake of audience, but also for the sake of survival. As their place in our society was shaping up, they found the best and only way for them to make it, as Vo put it: "by doing what we love."
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