Busking at Clapham Common Station
My mother told me "Buy yourself a lot of beautiful dresses in
London!". So I decided to patrol the Covent Garden area this
time. I wanted to see a pair of shops of which I had visited the
websites. My inspiration for shopping was not at its top walking
down Long Acre... I tried something but the size or the price
did not fit me. I finally reached "Arrogant Cat" on Monmouth
Street and I found it quite "could be my style", but not enough
to buy something this season. In the meanwhile big drops of
water started falling on my little streetmap, which soon became
spotted and my stomach stroke noon, so I decided to stop at a
Pret a Manger on the way and think about my "what to do's" in
front of a salad. There was a place I wanted to see. It is
called "Rare and Vintage Guitars" on a small road crossing
Charing Cross Road. When I got there I didn't know I would have
found the place of sin. All the zone is full of music shops. I
visited them all and I finally understood why I was not inspired
by buying dresses that day. I had a malignant, obscure, sinful
idea I was nourishing inside my head during the past few days.
What could bind me to the town of London as an indissoluble
blood pact? (Apart from making love with an English boy in town
- but this didn't happen) I bought a guitar. A small classic
guitar, 3/4 (the size fits me!), the perfect travel instrument
for busking in the tube.
Many things were told about this idea. I told everyone I wanted
to present my latest album "Gloucester Road" someday in the tube
and everyone seemed very proud for me. Some comrades of mine
wanted to call the BBC for the special event, labelling the
concert as "an Italian in London, singing a political concert,
the first extreme right-wing concert performed in the tube!".
When I took that little guitar in my hands I suddenly remembered
why I was there. I had decided to leave alone for London to look
for myself in serene solitude... hmm, yes, why not, in a place
like London. Bringing my books about electronics with me to
study late at night or very early in the morning, away from
university classes, away from my family and my parents'
continuous quarrels, away from political martyrs and people who
count if I say the right number of words (right, according to
them), away from the phone calls of the person who first cheated
me and now persecutes me and turned my life into a nightmare.
Looking for the genuine... why not, in a place like London.
Don't ask me who Samuel Johnson is... I know so little about
him, but I know he said "When a man is tired of London, he is
tired of life!". Apart from donating my cd to the London
Transport Museum and visiting other museums, I wanted to follow
my instinct. I needed myself! I missed myself! During the week I
had known new incredible people, met some friends and missed
others, thought a lot when I went back to my microscopic Indian
hostel room, eaten a lot of apples and discovered the raspberry
(I did not starve - as someone insinuated. I actually spent less
than 6 pounds for food and water during the whole week!). I
didn't want to make another "in family" political concert among
people who mostly or "mostly apparently" do think like me. I
didn't want to make the big scandal on tv (as someone
suggested). I wanted to busk in the tube in front of the most
various people, avoiding photocameras and camcorders, avoiding
the comrades and the celtic crosses. Only me, my new guitar and
the unexpected. So I switched my telephone off, went back to my
room to try some new song before the great event, I wrote the
lyrics I didn't remember in big letters on my light-blue
notebook and then I went out. There were only a pair of stations
where I could play that evening: Clapham Common or
Vauxhall...not so far away from the Power Station. I chose the
former... less "working zone" and more "living place" I think.
Maybe everything started because different friends of mine
showed me their houses there around Battersea, Clapham, Vauxhall
on that great invention called Google Earth. Looking carefully
recently I saw that strange shape and I asked myself about it.
The Power Station ravished me completely.
On the underground train I was worried and my heart beated so
fast and so loud. I did not remember the lyrics, but this always
happens, because I have filled my head with mathematical
formulas for my exams. I had never played with a 3/4 guitar,
it's so small and it is harder to play than a full size
instrument. I was sure I would have done some disaster. I got
off the train at Clapham Common, stepped into one of the exit
corridors and looking around I chose to stop in the middle of
the panels "northbound - southbound". I felt like an actress
before a show, on the stage, and the empty theatre was about to
be opened to audience soon. The long escalator was my stalls
like an ancient greek or roman theatre. Wow, it was so big! I
knew I had to sing loud to be heard. I had no amplification. I
was there "natural". Ok, it was my time. My hair danced in the
wind. I started singing watching above. I was as I am and the
other people were true as well. There were no comrades, no flags
around me. I had no protection and no appereance "envelope". I
sang and I saw the faces of the people. It's really true... we
label ourselves "white power", "hate rock" or something similar.
We close ourselves in a box and we offer a closed box. I
understood that sometimes (very often) people did not understand
my words. The movement has always blamed the external
environment as "unable to listen", but maybe is it possible that
I'm not able to communicate? My task is not recruiting people,
but inspiring and leaving a trace of my thoughts and beliefs,
even if they are not shared. I want to talk to hearts and
hopefully convince the others with my ideas and my ideals. I
think and I hope that my ideas can be respected even if not
shared. Usually my ideas are trashed because I have always sung
in a bell of glass. For this reason I felt such a warm shiver
when a busker going back home stopped in front of me to listen
to my song. He smiled at me and he gave me 1 pound. I felt a
heart close to mine. A few minutes later the man of the security
chased me away, threatening he would have called the police. I
had no authorization, but I'm going to ask one next time. That
special moment lasted so little but the memory and the feelings
I store inside my heart are flames that will burn for ever. I
will keep Clapham Common Station, the sound of the trains and
the echo of my voice inside of me for ever... that smile and the
other smiles of the people, even the insisting invitations of a
group of boys who wanted to have a hot night with me (they
should make a revision about how to court) and the disappointed
faces! I only hope I left something of me there at that station
and I hope that when you get there you will remember me. After
that experience I understood many other things. I understood
that there are people who wanted to make me believe I had no
hope for ambitions and they had always told me I was a fragile
girl. After the concert I met my friends in Clapham and we had
some ales and I drank with satisfaction. The people who know me
certainly know I had not drunk with happiness for a too long
time. I felt like I could die that night. I could die with a
smile on my face. It was the first time I maybe realized a
dream! I played in the tube, I played my songs! I felt like I
was 11, when I started writing songs and I had dreams without
limitations and pseudomoral - dictated by others including
my-outer-self - borderlines.