Since my teens, I have been busking in London in many places, occasions and with completely different gears. This is, I have busked in north London inside the subways under the north circular road, accompanied by friends, squatters I lived with around that area. I have busked in south London, in Brixton, more precisely close to the Brixton Academy, playing battery operated Casio Keyboards, for example. And many times, I have busked in Camden Town, at the square in front of the underground station, sometimes playing electric guitar on the floor, other times playing a big African marimba accompanied by a set of Tibetan bowls. And also, I have busked in Southbank, playing the concertina or different kinds of flutes inside the tunnels under the Blackfriars bridge or under the Southwark bridge. But this time, because I was living in the West End, I was coming to play at Piccadilly Circus, more precisely on the corner between the Haymarket road and Coventry street, where the Horse's Fountain is, one of my favorite places to play in London since years, coz all the people looking for the nightlife in Soho/Chinatown would pass through there, and also, all that flocks of tourists moving between Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus would pass in front of this fountain during the night. And, now, I will give some more details about this place, the Horses fountain, a bronze sculpture composed of four horses there installed when the adjacent Criterion Theatre was refurbished, in the beginning of the nineties. And actually, these horses are just half of the sculpture, there is more, if we look up we can see three women leaping off the building six stories above, three women that are supposed to be the Daughters of Helios, the Three Graces. And so, the four rearing horses are actually a depiction of Aethon, Eous, Phlegon, and Pyrois - the four horses of Helios, I got to know, the Greek god of the sun. And up there, on the top of the building, are the Three Graces, depicting the three Charites - Aglaea, Euphrosyne, and Thalia - who, according to some accounts, are the three daughters of Helios with the Oceanid Eurynome. Being Aglaea or Aglaïa, the goddess of order and lawful conduct, Euphrosyne, the goddess of joy or mirth, and by its turn, Thalia, the goddess of festivity and rich banquets. And plus, I got to know, together they were part of the retinue of Aphrodite, with Aglaea sometimes acting as her messenger. This is, historically, Aglaea was married to Hephaestus, and by him she became mother of Eucleia ("Good Repute"), Eupheme ("Acclaim"), Euthenia ("Prosperity"), and Philophrosyne ("Welcome"), and if you want know more about it, you can check wikipedia. And so, I'm arriving at the place now, pants rolled up until the knees, there I go, already jumping inside the fountain… moving between and under the horses, this is, from the holes in their bellies I pick some of the alms there I have hidden the previous nights. And here we go, people already taking me photos, and me making faces, while drinking canned beer under the horse’s belies, the jets of sulphuric water falling on my side, and then, I'm jumping out of the place, spitting the coins I have just picked inside the so said hat that would receive the donations of the new day/night. And then, without looking to the passers-byes, I would turn on my portable speaker and put playing some of the tracks from my “busking” playlist, this is, dub/reggae samples, ethical chants, classical arabesk music, etc… and while this sounds play, as a warm up for the sessions that will follow, I begin unpacking the stuff from my big camping bags, this is, I remove the adjustable seat, the set of buckets, the drumming sticks, some cymbals, the tripods for the cymbals, some cowbells, a small snare drum, and some more cans, rubbish, stones, I carry in my bags and use for decoration. And so, changing the backtracks from the portable speaker now, I turn off the reggae/dub samples, and choose some ambient drone sounds that will serve as base to fulfill my drumming shots. So yeah, already seated, facing the mass of people passing on my front now, people of all factions and creeds, many arab tourists, English people getting off from their ugly taxis, swaggering Jamaicans, ladies in knee-length skirts and high heels walking all crooked, vulgar people, people that can't be cataloged, fugitives winking at vulgarity, and me winking at them. And so, here I go, starting with some rolls on the buckets, just for the warm up, trying to be quicker and quicker on these rolls, and then, each time I hit the cymbals I hold them with one hand right away, in order to cut the splash, making it sound as a quick explosion with no repercussions, no disturbing for the next beats that will follow all in a sudden. And so, as time passes, I would play what can be called as African rhythms with some jazzy pointillism, drum n’ bass pattern, latin sentences, rock n’ roll extracts… and the drone ambient sounds still playing on my back, filling the holes. And the people passing in front of me, some pass running, some throw coins in the hat, some shake their ass, and some utter comments that rarely I can understand, yeah. But who cares, I’m here for playing, not for engaging in conversations about the weather. And then, sweating like a pig, I do a pause for opening a beer can, and I even do some stretching exercises in the meanwhile, and while exercising, I watch what is happening down there, in the middle of the square, where all nights some others buskers play, or groups of dancers dance, and sometimes, groups of scoundrels get into trouble with the tourists seated around the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain, a small fountain surmounted by a winged statue of Anteros, this is, the Greek god of requited love, also the punisher of those who scorn love and the advances of others, also called the avenger of unrequited love, I got to know, some years ago, it was that bearded man that always come here when I’m playing that told me, said and done, here he is again, this time with a huge clock hanging from his chest, a clock with broken pointers, here he comes, intervaladly smiling at me and at the passersbyes taking fotos of his array, and so, as he comes by we greet each other, as normal, and then, he seats right on the edge of the fountain on my side, this is, between the fountain and the corner where my drum kit is installed, and he always has some interesting curiosity to tell, some kind of weird news happening in distant countries. So, this time he is telling me something about something happening with the Inuit people of Alaska and then he is connecting it with something happening with the Dravidians of South India, and then he speaks about the Telugus, and the Tamils, and the Kannadigas, and the Malayalis, and the Tuluvas, and while he speaks about all these ethnicities, I come back to my drumming. Being him now, the standard bearer of my music, and so, I let it be, and people approach, taking photos, trampling each other, the thing now sounding more like some kind of religious demonstration, I guess, but still, there are coins rolling on the floor, bills being thrown at my feet, secret messages landing on the alm’s hat, and then, yeah, it smells like ganja, finally, and so, suddenly I stand up standing like a meerkat, a Suricata, looking around for the mouth that can bear the exhalation I was waiting for.
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