Sometime last year my brother and I decided we wanted to go busking.
We are not prodigies, but we do have a considerably musical background. My brother--or Babe, as we affectionately call him--is by far the most diversely talented one in this area, being able to play (with different levels of proficiency of course) the piano, violin, viola, and guitar. I am rather more limited--my weapon of choice is the violin, perhaps for the simple reason that I cannot play the left hand on the piano to save my life. I discovered this inability early in my childhood through torturous classical piano lessons with an uninspiring teacher, whom I mainly remember today for telling me my playing sounded like broccoli, and for unintentionally teaching me how to guess at the correct answer during aural practice.
"Was that a rallentando, or an accelerando?" *snaps out of daydream hastily* "Rallll----" *observes teacher's expression intently as I roll the l's, playing for time, and skillfully change it into an "--lllllaccelerando!" as I notice her eyebrows start to go up in disapproval.* Teacher's eyebrows relax and she smiles condescendingly. I breath a sigh of relief and creep back into my daydreams (of course, to be fair, I ought to have listened to her and actually learnt something instead of becoming good at acting and guessing.)
How does one go about becoming a busker in Singapore?
In most other countries you bring your instrument, your little money can, a sign, your mike and amp to a nice spot of your choice and start making music. And earning money, hopefully.
In Singapore, as I discovered through online research, it's rather more complicated.
For those of you who are curious, or who (like me) fell gullibly for the dream of earning a few hundred dollars over a few hours, here is the process we went through since then. (disclaimer: that story I heard happened along Orchard Road during Christmas Eve. I suggest you don't get any delusions over it happening every time you go out busking. Just get a job. Busk for fun and pocket money, not to get rich or famous, because it's most likely not happening.)
STEP ONE:
Do your online research. NAC has put up a comprehensive list of rules and guidelines, terms and conditions, proper and official enough to be an application to perform for the President. Start with this link; but only if you're alert, rested, have pen and paper in front of you, a nice drink of your choice, and time. https://www.nac.gov.sg/whatwedo/engagement/artsforall/busking.html
STEP TWO:
Apply for the upcoming audition--they only have about two slots per year, so you really have to plan ahead. Check out the guidelines and rules they supply. Note: You need to request for the locations to busk in. Of course you don't get the final say. Don't even think of Orchard Road unless you have a powerful amp that you can bring to the audition and prove to them that you can make yourself heard in all that noise. You'll probably get some heartland spots. Other options are MRT stations, a fairly new thing which is good but will mean more red tape, if you can handle that. Likewise, malls require you to lias with the mall management, which may mean another separate round of briefings and SOPs.
STEP THREE:
There's a compulsory briefing you must attend, even if you're re-applying, as long as you haven't gone for the last 12 months. Which is pretty inconvenient. But it was eye-opening, and I enjoyed the experience--getting to see and meet other buskers, for one, and hear experienced ones sharing their stories really gave the whole thing a sense of community.
STEP FOUR:
Know your stuff. We started with absolute nil knowledge on mikes, amps, and cables; we happily swapped the order of this with the next step, which was a big mistake. Without the pressure of the audition deadline, it took us ages to research and get all the equipment we needed (we were at that stage where we didn't even know what we needed; we had no idea it was so important to have a mike and an amp!) Also, we could have asked for advice from the other buskers we met, if we had known earlier. Even now, we are still struggling to sort out how this amp thing works--it's like a magic box to me, especially with all those mysterious knobs!--and may have to get a better mike; so please, if you don't already know anything about this, start researching now. Pronto.
STEP FIVE:
Prepare for and attend the audition. Ours was held at the National Library. Bring all your equipment, dress well, know your stuff, but there's no need to be nervous. I couldn't help feeling like I was entering some talent show--I was so nervous I felt sick, throughout the prep and as we waited for our turn; but really. Be prepared for some criticism, possibly even rejection, but no Simon Cowell cringe-worthy trauma. It's a small, quiet audience--the mall representatives and judges, and your fellow (equally nervous) busker wannabes. Again, it was a nice chance to meet and get to know a few other fellow buskers.
Find a suitable money container--one which is large enough so it's easy for people to drop their money in, and tall enough so they don't have to squat over to do so. I picked the one above from Daiso and had fun printing the THANK YOU on it; I like how simple the design is, and it being foldable is a huge plus point; but will probably have to look for a larger and sturdier one soon.
Keep the sum total of your barang in mind. We had to lug a guitar, a violin, an amp, a mike and its stand, plus a music stand (and not those flimsy foldable ones either.) Besides water, we tried to cut down the bulk and weight of everything else, but still looked like we were homeless musicians who just got evicted for being too noisy. We're going to get buff faster than we get rich from busking.
STEP SIX:
Get out there. This may be the hardest part, depending on your personality. Red tape is one thing, ignorance is another thing, if you're driven and hard-working enough you can get over that; but actually getting down to it takes more courage than you'd expect. I thought the hardest part was over when we got our license, but going out for the first time, I felt almost as sick as I had before going for the audition; did we practice enough? (no) did we have enough songs? (no) did we prepare everything we needed? (no) what if people didn't like us or we didn't get anything? (they were lovely and we did)
We made a lot of mistakes, we learnt a lot of stuff we had neglected to do, but people were gracious, much more than I had pessimistically expected, and it was overall a great experience. And like they say, some things you can only learn on the job.
We learnt, for one, that it's challenging getting a double license. We play well together, and that's how our music works, but since Babe is in the army, it severely limited the chances we had to go busking, as the group license requires all members to be present. So maybe it's not such a good idea for a five person band to get a license together--that means five different schedules have to work together for each time, and of course that means whatever money you are given will be split five ways... you go figure.
Also. Just keep the music going. You make mistakes, you're not that good, but hey, again, it's not a talent show. Those who don't like your music should just walk past. Those who do--well, there are often more of them than you'd expect. I could have kissed the kind souls like that who made our day--the young parents who gave their toddler a five dollar bill to put into our money box, the group of shy, giggly primary school kids who dug in their pockets for loose change, the boys who cheered for us, the middle-aged aunty who gave us a thumbs up and huge smile that was more encouragement than the actual money she gave. I was surprised at the number of young children who just stood there watching us with big eyes, the number of old people who sat down and just listened to us for so long. I felt my music was a gift I could give to these people, not just something they gave me money for.
Smile--being nervous really takes a toll on your expression, and your expression in turn affects the impact your music makes, superficial as that may sound. Keep an eye on your money box in case some nasty person pretends to give you something but actually is hoping to sneak a few bills (it's possible, so don't get so engrossed in your music that you close your eyes, soulful as it appears!)
Don't have too high expectations on how much you're going to get. In my nervous pessimism I figured we'd earn enough to cover our travel expenses and maybe a meal--it was a nice surprise to be proved wrong, and encouraged to go at it again.
Head up, make sure the music stand isn't blocking your face--smile smile smile, relax...