Play Anything You Like

As a British ex-pat of some thirty years living and working in Spain and Japan, one of the most common questions I get asked by strangers or new friends is "Where are you from?" If I answer England, that lines them up for what comes next. Sometimes I answer their question with "Why?" I know, you shouldn't answer a question with one of your own, but I have my reasons. Not all such inquiries about where I am from are conversational ice-breakers from friendly natives.

A few years ago when I was living in the south of Spain and due to certain personal circumstances, I was busking on the city streets with my guitar for a living. At one time there was an invasion of travelers from some European, Eastern Bloc country, badly playing the accordion. One of these thugs stopped me and asked where I was from. When I replied England he asked me why didn't I go back to where I came from to play my guitar, with a very unfriendly tone of voice. I said it was because there were far too many people like him playing the accordion in England. I then told him in no uncertain terms that I was not one to tangle with. After fifteen years of living in that city, I was not about to be pushed around by some idiot who had arrived the day before.

Unbelievably, the fool had clearly not got the message. When he saw me the next day he started to give me his orders, telling me where I could perform and for how long, and how much protection money I had to pay him. I exploded with rage and told him he was not my boss, not the boss of running the streets, and if he wasn't careful he would be needing protection from me and certain people I knew.

The very next day, he gave it one last throw of the dice by telling me that after ten minutes of performing at any place in the city, I would have to stop playing and move on. I told him ...

"This is the last time you try to tell me what to do. Carry on like this and I'm going to give you a very big problem. Get it? I don't give a shit. I am not scared of you. Now fuck off while you still can and leave me alone."

After that, he stopped bothering me, at least in a personal, face-to-face way. However, he did try to get things organized with his fellow countrymen. They all had cell phones and were all sent out to take up positions at the best busking spots around the city. Then, when it was time to move around one position, a global message was sent to every player. All of these incompetent accordion players, who each played Besame Mucho as gratingly as his compatriots, then moved around to the next position. That way they tried to box off the entire city for themselves. That did not go down at all well with the locals.

To begin the evening shift performing, normally what they did was arrive early at each of the best spots and just sit and wait for an hour or so for the general public to arrive in the city. I just ignored them waiting and stood right by them and started to perform, even if it was only half a crowd. I was a good enough performer to draw my own crowd out of fresh air anyway.

In the end, I formed my own alliance with some fantastic local buskers and we played those accordion guys from the East off the streets. However, to this day, I get nervous whenever I hear an accordion being played, especially if it is producing the sound of Besame Mucho off-key.