What a splendiferous day it was for City Newspaper's annual Best Busker Contest in Rochester's East End. Competition for those precious little guitar picks was heated, as artists of varying degrees of talent and style whipped it out like there was no doubt. The streets were teaming with the curious, the converted, and the convinced. That begs the question: why doesn't our fair city implement buskers everywhere, all the time? Everybody needs a soundtrack. I know there's more cut in my strut when I hear a mellow saxophone or a snaky walking bass. However, banjos sometimes make me run in circles reciting, "Be my girl, Sally" by The Police. That ever happen to you?
One thing that struck me was that there ain'tno room for melancholy on the streets of Rochester. Those who pined or waxed forlorn did it alone. The highlights had to be the cat plucking at a genuine washtub bass, all the Delta-inspired bluesers, and one dude who would write a tune for you on the spot -- and I mean on the spot. Mine was entitled, "The laws against busking make Baby Jesus cry."
For photos of this year's contest, a list of the winners, and more information, click here.