MaximusMay 3, 2009
Cuba Street is nothing if not the Busking home of Wellington, and at any given time there are normally at least a couple of buskers, thrashing out chords and trying out their talents on our eardrums.
There is as always the Bard of Cuba St as he styles himself, with excellent finger-handling as he picks out the strings on his worn out fretwork, and gingery beard wavering below his toothy gapped grin on some maudlin lyrics. He always plays “I don’t like Mondays” to start us off on our way to work early in the week: there’s nothing like an appropriately timed lyric.
We have the chubby girl with the glove puppet, whose point I can never quite gather; several lonesome cowboys and guitar heroes striking poses as they thrash out riffs to torture our tympanum; an inevitable wailing bag-piping Scotsman in obligatory scarily flapping kilt; the occasional accordionist mournfully squeezing out a wavering tune; and recently an endearing amount of baby-goth emos wavering out an awkward emo ballad, stockings torn and limbs akimbo, firmly astride the ‘stage’ in front of the Left Bank.
I love the urbane mash-up of musicians more than I do the competing blair of banal ZM-blaring loudspeakers hung outside shops, or the endless stream of fiddle-de-dee mock-Oirish schmaltzy tosh that passes forth from the doors of Murphy’s.
Most of all though I think this most recent addition to our musical ensemble is great: although possibly the world’s smallest busker if not just one of the youngest, performing at ankle level on the sidewalk, young Liam has the passion and the verve and the shear chord-strumming ability to carry a tune off on his own. Already pulling in the big notes at such a tender age, this young muso will go far, no doubt spinning of a series of bands in that Wellington manner, if he can continue to pump out the volume that was so impressive the other night.
Go Liam! You rock!!