Want to Take You To...Shantytown

We were at the Ferry Building last weekend on a nice, somewhat lovely day and after drinking wine and eating bread and cheese, we decided to grab some incredible coffee and head on out into the sunshine, grab a bench, and look out over the Bay. There was a slight problem, however, in that once we stepped outside, we were greeted by a street musician loudly playing in front of everybody so that no matter where you sat, you'd still be able to hear her. Now, this can be all fine and dandy if the street musician was good but in no way, shape or form could this street musician be described as good. Among other things, she played an accordion. And sang along to that accordion badly-- very, very badly-- and sung songs that were completely unknown as they were completely illegible.

Now it is pretty much impossible to make nice, relaxing, beautiful music with an accordion. The only people who like music made from accordions are Pirates and Italian maitre d's in cartoons. Yet this woman took it upon herself to serenade tens of people in a nice, pretty place with a pretty view in front of a nice, somewhat fancy-shmancy shopping thingamabob. A nice, pretty place with a pretty view that, I might add, features outdoor seating for the fish restaurant there. To say this was a buzzkill would be a vast understatement. I should also add that the woman in question was young-ish and flashing the very latest in punk/homeless fashion complete with an assymetrical haircut giving one the impression that this was some sort of punkish maneuver too-- punk being predicated on the belief that anybody could make music, even if they had not a dollop of talent as it's more about attitude and heart than skills and ability. Or it could be some sort of arty/indie musician thing much like the guy in college who thought he was cooler than everyone because he listened to Edith Piaf. And nothing says twee more like an accordion and the kids do love their cutesy, indie, thoroughly annoying twee bands.

So basically, what we have here is an arty, punker, possibly homeless woman with an accordion seeing a bunch of indecipherable songs in front of shoppers, eaters, and resters. And nobody seemed to mind. Or notice. Or say anything. I think.

We walked out and upon seeing her and hearing her, decided to grab a bench far, far away from where she was. I did notice that the benches were a little clearer nearer her than further away from her but not that noticeably and there were still people enjoying a perfectly nice if albeit sonically raped oyster lunch. Did they care? Did the store owners care? Did the taste police care? As we sat there, she went on and on and on so nobody did much of anything for awhile. Was it because we were the only one's to find her music dreadful or were people just too polite to actually bring the fuzz in to stop her? Or was it just that everyone was being totally San Franciscan and thinking that we could say something but that would be a drag, man.

And you know what? As much as she sucked, I still kinda have to give her my props. Girl has balls. Big, bouncy, rock solid balls.

You go, girl. Just not anywhere near me.