While venturing beyond Davis Square, there is no doubt that everyone has, at some point, run into a musician of sorts in the catacombs of the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority (MBTA) subway system, affectionately known as "the T." For years, these subway performers have kept the tunnels of the Boston subways alive with their music and human energy, brightening a place that is usually dark and mundane.
Whether they're playing guitar, harmonica, accordion or the saw, these musicians peddle their trade in the most immediate of locations: the center of commuter traffic. The cacophony of sounds produced by the instruments has been called everything from "beautiful" to "downright annoying," and yet, after years of divided opinions, they're still there with instrument cases invitingly open and CDs for sale.
Although few people rarely give thought to who these people are and why they're doing what they're doing, subway musicians lead some of the most interesting — and unconventional — lives in the Boston area.
To think that a musician who plays at the Harvard T stop is simply another performer trying to make a few bucks to pay their way home is just wrong. Artists such as G. Love & Special Sauce, Shawn Colvin and Tufts grad Tracy Chapman (LA '86) have started their careers singing melodies on the benches of stops from Alewife to Brighton.
The Daily took an adventure through the Red Line to get the details on what subway music is all about, from the mouths of the musicians themselves. At the Harvard T stop early Monday morning, Roland Tumble was setting up his amplifier to play slide guitar and some country-blues. He laid out his guitar next to the red tile, an instrument made personal by the scraps of song lyrics taped to the body in a seemingly random arrangement.
"I've played guitar forever ... Since I was about eight [years old]," he said. He described the flexibility of the subway arena, as well as the inherent competition for such an open space. "To get the spot you have to get here early. I just got here, and luckily nobody wants it on a Monday morning. People spend more money on the weekends. And [commuters] are also not really in a good mood," he said.
Tumble explained that his time in the T directly correlates with the amount of other work he has. Currently he plays at Harvard several times per week and stays for a few hours at a time. At the Harvard stop, there is a time limit for each musician, as "it's the only station popular enough for people to fight about." Other stations function on the "early bird gets the worm" motto, and allow the most persistent performers to stay as long as they wish.
Travelers shuffling through South Station that same morning may have run into flutist Carlos Corona Sosa, with "Rondo Alla Turca" and "Bourrée No. 1" resting on his music stand. Commuters descending the stairs and dropping a couple dollars into his instrument case were greeted with a wide grin and an enthusiastic "Good morning! Thank you so much!"
"I've been here for three years and I play seven days a week, all the mornings for three hours," Sosa said. Like Tumble, Sosa has another job, which occasionally cuts him back to five days at the T. Unlike Tumble, however, the flutist flits between stations depending on the crowd. "You need to see where the people are. On weekdays it's good to be in a station with the commuter rail to catch people coming and going from work," he said. Sosa sometimes branches out to Boston Common on weekends, when the weather allows, playing for city dwellers with children in tow.
Sosa prefers the classical style and plays a range of songs, from the Baroque to the modern. Sosa has a passion for classical music yet, aware of his audience, is smart about the pieces that he chooses to play. He doesn't play as many 20th-century pieces because they are difficult tunes for passersby to recognize. "The best music is the music of Bach," he said. "I find that people like it the most, along with Mozart and Vivaldi." Sosa plays the "big three" so that audiences will respond to the familiarity of classic tunes.
Though Sosa sticks to classical, he changes the tempo based on the time of day. "We [as musicians] need to try to read the people, to figure out what people want to hear," he said. This differs between the morning and evening crowds. Sosa picked up his flute and gave a sample of this variation in mood. After a few light, upbeat pieces, he said, "In the morning, people want to start the day with something quick, to feel good." A slow opera piece with plenty of long notes, according to Sosa, makes for better evening entertainment.
It is not only Sosa who recognizes the way music enhances the mood of early morning commuters trudging to work. In the mid-'70s, former Massachusetts Governor Michael Dukakis put into place the Music Under Boston program, which made it easier (and more financially viable) for Boston Symphony Orchestra members as well as other professional Bostonian musicians to bring their music to the recesses of the T. Since then, the musicians have felt even more at home in the halls and platforms of the subway system.
Things weren't always easy for these musicians. Bostonian street performers faced a roadblock in 2003, according to an article in the Boston Globe on Sept. 5, 2004, when the MBTA proposed a ban on horns of all sorts, drums and any form of amplification, and a charge of $25 for a permit to allow performers to play in T Stations. The proposal raised a thunderous outcry from musicians and non-musicians alike, and after 16,000 people signed a petition against the changes (not to mention letters from state officials and frenzied media attention), the proposal was limited to a smaller number of stipulations. Still, since 2003, there have been no trumpets, drums or performances over 80 decibels allowed in the T stations.
Tumble grew passionate when speaking of the difficulties he and others have faced as subway performers. "They tried to kick us out of here a few years ago, but we supported each other and it took about two or three weeks. A lot of people who I had never talked to before became my best friends at that time … people really didn't want them taking their music away," he said.
While the battles for subway musicians may not seem important to most modern-day Bostonians, it's interesting to think of what the T would be like without artists making the wait for the next train just a bit more pleasant.
For some, performing underground is not simply a way to earn some extra cash; it is a way to continually do what they love most. Sosa talked about his musical background, discussing how he studied music in his home country of Mexico for eight years before moving to Boston. During that time he played in a variety of concert bands. "I know the music," he said. "I can play in the orchestra. I can play in the concert band. I can play chamber music. But here, I can live off the music only. It pays for my phone, my home, everything I need. My other job is for sending money home to Mexico."
As people pass by and see Sosa smiling, his joy seems contagious. Gloomy early-morning looks are softened by his light flute notes. "I have much satisfaction," he said. "People like the music. The music gives you joy."
Catherine Scott contributed to the writing of this article.
