Posts Tagged ‘Making Love Ukulele Style’
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A Good Friday
0March 27, 2016 by admin
The sky looked like a concrete sidewalk, including the variations of gray and the swirling irregularities, as if smoothed by a distracted workman. Rain was predicted for the morning, but by noon it still hadn’t come.
There seemed to be no life on the wisteria covering the north pergola. Upon closer investigation, however, I could just make out some growing tips emerging from the vine’s creases. It was the change of shift at the Imagine Mosaic, one guitarist carrying away his case to count his money, the next sitting down on the back of a bench, his feet on the seat, his case on the ground, tuning up. The magnificent magnolia was drawing a crowd; I edged my way past to avoid spoiling anyone’s photos.
Was that a raindrop? No. Is that a dandelion? Yes.
The cowboy had arrived before me, so I set up under the leafless maple. A man smiled as he tossed me 50 cents, then looked to the sky. “It’s not gonna rain,” I said, just as the leading edge of the front moved overhead, and annoying drops turned into real rain, rain I could no longer ignore. I folded everything into my case and headed for the tunnel under the road leading to the Conservatory Pond. Although I was no longer walking with an air boot and cane, I could still only make my way slowly, so I got pretty wet.
The space under the tunnel was packed with tourists waiting it out. Despite the darkness, I found a cloth in my case and wiped down my uke. After 10-15 minutes, the rain stopped, the sun peaked through, the people scattered, and I headed back to the maple. On a hunch, however, I kept walking to the fountain to find the cowboy hadn’t come back, so for the next hour, center stage was mine.
A school group from San Diego had time to hula. Eight or nine teenagers donned leis and pranced around. Once again, my case filled with bills. After the dance, the kids hung around, during which time I learned that they’d never heard of Laurel and Hardy (“Honolulu Baby”) or Dean Martin (“Making Love Ukulele Style”). One girl asked what decade my songs were from. “Mostly the 20’s and 30’s.” The look on her face made me realize just how long ago that must seem. Comparatively speaking, how many songs from the Civil War did I know at her age?
“Have you got time for a hula today?”
A shy teenage girl from Virginia was talked into dancing by one of her friends. After a few bars of “The Hukilau Song,” a pair of younger girls from somewhere else wanted to join in. “Put on a lei.” I motioned to the colorful array of leis draped over the back of my case. The three danced a verse, the Virginian bowed out, and the kids kept waving their arms until the final Huki-huki-huki-hukilau. What had started as a dreary day was now bright and warm. When I played “Tiptoe through the Tulips,” I felt that by singing, as the song says, “we’ll keep the showers away.” The front moved through;people were happy to add to my growing pile.
Over my shoulder I could hear amplified music. It was the Chinese accordion player, sitting on her stool in her cap and sweater, midway between me and the Boyd singers in the arcade. She was really too close – I could have called her out on her breach of busker etiquette — but I didn’t. It had been a fine day. I made $22.42.
As I walked past the accordion player, she played the theme from “The Godfather.” In a box at her feet were a few dollars and her CDs. My CD, “Aloha, New York,” is currently out of print. I must attend to that.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Dean Martin, Honolulu Baby, Laurel and Hardy, Making Love Ukulele Style, The Hukilau Song, Theme from the Godfather, Tiptoe through the Tulips
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Two in a Row
0March 11, 2016 by admin
On the Monday after the big storm in January, feeling something like a caged tiger, I set out for the gym, leaped over a snow pile at the corner, fell and broke my leg. I write this now to convey the sheer joy I felt yesterday, bound though I was by a walking boot and cane. Going out with my uke two days in a row approached bliss.
The park retained its overall earthen colors. The sky was mostly gray; warm, wet winds blew the occasional hole in the clouds to let in some sun. I saw more daffs than yesterday. The rose wood was greening, and when I looked hard I saw the nubs of growing tips. Except for the stray forsythia floret, nothing.
The guitar platoon at the Imagine Mosaic is back, if they ever left.
At the foot of the western staircase, where the acrobats work, 2 clown-like guitarists sang and danced to silly songs. They’d set up a cardboard bandstand reading Benny and Griff, and seemed ready to do their show all day. I assessed the situation for conflict. No amplification, no foul. “I play over there,” I told them, gesturing with my cane. They were very nice, they called me “sir.”
After I sang my openers, “Making Love Ukulele Style,” “Sunday,” “Fit as a Fiddle,” “I Saw Stars,” and “Ukulele Lady,” a man my age, who’d been sitting by the water to my left, came up and asked, “Surfboard accident?” He complimented my voice, gave me a dollar and encouraged me to keep up the good work.
A slim, beautiful black woman, close-cropped hair, flowing clothes and bare arms hula-ed toward the benches with her male companion. I encouraged her to put on a lei and do a proper hula, and she did. We went through both verses of “The Hukilau Song,” by which time she’d drawn a crowd. Even her friend was taking pictures. She gave me back the lei and returned to the bench.
An older Asian woman stepped forward and put a dollar in my case. She had been in the crowd and appreciated the expressive beauty of the hula.
The next dancer was a Dallas girl of 7 or 8, who pranced around quite freely while her mother got it on video. Then 3 more Texans, from a teenage tour from El Paso, gave their rendition of the hula. Quite a bit of banter and dollars were exchanged, as their classmates wanted in on what was happening. “You’re my second group from Texas today,” I told them. “Is this Texas in New York Week?”
“It’s a big state,” I was told.
With my final song, “Little Grass Shack,” I sat down to count the day’s haul, $12, then hoisted myself to my feet and started home. At the foot of the stairs, Benny and Griff were still at it.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Benny and Griff, Fit as a Fiddle, I Saw Stars, Imagine Mosaic, Little Grass Shack, Making Love Ukulele Style, Sunday, The Hukilau Song, Ukulele Lady
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Center Stage
0October 16, 2015 by admin
Getting another late start, I decided to sit quietly on a bench and wait for the cowboy to go home. With the days remaining in the season growing ever fewer, I wanted my time at center stage and, by God, I would have it. Chatting with some tourists sitting near me, I learned that the Boyd family singers were wonderful, and that the cowboy played all their favorite songs. Go figure.
I opened with “Making Love Ukulele Style.” As I played, I detected a twang in my low-G string, a wire wrapped item that hasn’t been changed all year. Experience tells me this string will soon snap. Upon examination, I can’t find any fraying, which usually begins directly over one of the frets. My challenge now is to finish the season, so I can change all the strings at once in January.
A young man stopped in front of me to take a picture. Unlike practically every photographer who’s pointed a camera, cellphone or iPad at me, this one coughed up a buck.
“Have you got time for a hula today?” Three older women talked it over, and one of them, Diane, started shaking her hips. “Do you know any birthday songs?” It was Diane’s 80th birthday. I put a lei around her neck and sang “Happy Birthday” while one of them shot video. “What about that hula?” the videographer called out. Diane was game and did a slow, yet stylish, hula. The women were from Dallas, where, I reminisced, I had gone ice skating at the indoor rink at the Galleria shopping center when the outside temp was 107. When they left, with shouts of Aloha echoing through the fountain, I found a crisp fiver in my case.
Two blond teenagers were encouraged by their mom to dance. During the intro to “The Hukilau Song,” brother and sister danced in unison, but with the start of the verse, sister went free-style, literally dancing circles around her brother. A laughing mom handed me $3.
A 30-something woman all in black walked slowly past me, and without breaking stride tossed 2 quarters in my case. By the time I got to the end of a breath-line in my song, it was too late to ask her to dance. A 40-something man gave me a dollar, saying, “Keep on playing, man.”
“Do you like ukulele music?”
“Not particularly, but I like what you’re doing.”
It was another great day for wedding photos. I counted 6 brides in my 90 minutes at the fountain. As is my wont, I broke into “The Hawaiian Wedding Song” every time a bride showed up. Rarely am I rewarded; most of the time the wedding couple doesn’t have a clue what I’m singing. Today, however, a photographer, 1 of 4 that were assembled to take pictures of a particularly large wedding party, gave me a dollar, bringing the day’s total to a respectable $11.50.
Packing up, Kate, who plays the viola for John Boyd, came by to ask if her friend on the alto sax, who had set up 180 degrees from me, with taped accompaniment, was interfering with me. “Not anymore,” I said, “I’m done for the day.” Fact is, I’d heard him between numbers, but not at all while playing, my measure of when buskers are too close together. “But thanks for your concern,” I added. “See you tomorrow.”
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Making Love Ukulele Style, The Hukilau Song
