A dark narrative on a central London squat I stayed in during the early nineties,my heavy Lou Reed period.
Thursday, 27 April 2017
I´m hardly qualified to comment on issues regarding the current system or media culture. I´m not a political scientist or an academic. I´m just a free thinking street artist who see things from a different angle, in a way I´m on the outside looking in.
Although we may not be living a 1984 scenario. I suspect certain governing authorities base some of their ideas and policy’s along similar lines. They promote the same nightmare, only they soften it up with bland pop culture and other forms of suspect propaganda.
You may not realize it but you, yourself are at this moment being indirectly fed both media culture and suspect propaganda….Television and radio dictate to you. They tell you of how it is and of how it should be. World news is filtered and biaised, while the football saturated newspapers are conveniently sensationalized. We´re left laboring our lives away, holding tightly on to undervalued material possessions.
Perhaps stepping out is·nt such a far away option.
Check this street trio out.
Gigs in the street.
Gigs in the street.
Will you ever stop busking ?
No I don’t think I could , once you start it’s hard to stop , once you realize how easy it is to step outside and how the majority of people don't really give a shit and how eventually you don't either , your hooked .
Its who you are and what you do , it takes something to be a street musician or a busker . Its not just something that you decide to do , your kind of like born with it , I think .
No I won't stop , I’m too far involved with it . Its not so much the money either , in my case thats a minor factor , part of the process but not a vital aspect . I would pay to busk if I had to .
I think we’re all born with a destiny and perhaps I’ve found mine .
Thursday, 6 April 2017
Thursday, 7 July 2016
I couldn’t believe it , there it was , U.V.F , sprayed up there with the rest of it . Where the fuck was I .
Not pretty , not ugly and not a backpackers place . Not big not small and not a lot of busking going on either . Well theres some but not much , you could nearly do without pitching here .
Cartagena is certainly a navy town boasting Spain's first naval military base and it also credits the invention of the first torpedo powered submarine .
I did a pitch on the calle Florentin , one of the centre cut off’s . I made a few tips , an old lady offered me half a packet of biscuits . That happens when people are unfamiliar with what you are doing .
There was something else I had to do while I was here , well this is a navy town and I knew the score . Sailors bars can be rough , but theirs plenty of loose woman there .
I ended up with a middle aged fatty still on her moons . That didn't bother me , man I was really thirsty and I was tired of bashing my bishop . We took a night bus to the other side of Cartagena , indeed a Spanish housing estate , believe it , it’s not all villas and beach apartments here . Bad graffiti and burnt out stolen cars blocked the entrance . A Manchester no go area , only warmer , just that . I did it once at night , I did it again in the morning , blood ´n`all . What’s the difference it saved me a magazine , of which can be pretty expensive , I got a place to stay too .
Outside it was an ugly grey day maybe reflecting my dry mouth , bad nerves , deep regret and blood stained trousers . I was indeed greeted with hostile stares from dark skinned , hard looking types , some were young some were a bit older .They asked me where I was going and what I was doing . After I told them I didn't have any money and with the help of my Am harmonica I then musically described to them what I was planning on doing . I had to improvise , I may as well go down with a blues note or two , not just with my blood stained trousers . They only laughed and wished me the best though .