Streetplayaz: Kill Your Accordion

Street musicians are in every city in the world, though some more than others. In Philly, I always liked the saxophonist out on Chestnut St. who usually played on Saturdays when foot traffic was at its peak. If I remember correctly, the guy choose to play around either 12th and Chestnut or at 16th & Chestnut, where the acoustics of the tall buildings channeled his songs better. It sounded good. I also liked the occasional Step troops that would come down from their neighborhoods and perform outside the Gallery at 9th and Market. I suppose you could get sick of it if you saw them every blessed weekend, but for the few times I saw the girls steppin' and the boys drummin', I thoroughly enjoyed the show. Our local cults of personality included a blind woman who played the penny whistle in Old City and another guy dressed in bow-tie and a suit who played the "God Bless America" on the flute. Seriously, that was the only song the guy played, all day and every day he was out. I don't think the street musicians in Philly ever evolved to the level of those in NYC or even NJ, where a guy dressed like Elvis would sing into a hairbrush along side the major highway to Cherry Hill.

And then there's Oslo.

Oh, so rarely do you see a group of young kids from the music conservatory out on the street for shits and giggles. The best entertainment we get are Eastern European accordion players. My first impulse when I see an accordion is to destroy it - violently. I spent all of Summer 2005 shooing strolling accordion players from the outdoor cafe where I worked. One guy didn't speak a word of Norwegian and placed a curse on me and future generations in Romanian after I asked him to leave. (I'm guessing here, but some things transcend language barriers.) As long as they stood outside the café, they could play to their heart's delight and the customer's distaste. To make matters worse, these players pop up in the strangest of places, miles away from tourist areas: outside neighborhood grocery stores, on the empty streets leading up the university, behind office buildings in near-empty parking lots, etc. In short, you can't escape and it blows chunks.

As a postscript, I would like to offer two exceptions to my violent dislike of the accordion. The first was Ms. Murghatroid (Transmissions Festival ca. 1999) who hooked up her accordion to a distortion pedal or something. It sounded surprisingly good since it didn't sound like an accordion at all. And then there is one guy in Oslo who learned some French café tunes, similar to those on the Amelie soundtrack. Even though it still sounds like an accordion, it's pleasant.

I really wouldn't mind hearing some jazz on these street corners, but that's not likely. For now it will be accordion players, the rare classical music types and the occasional pan-pipe players. But be forewarned: if I hear any "jazz accordion" I will beat the guy senseless.