Busking: It's not just for outlaws.
How criminal can it be if Lisa Bouchelle's doing it?
She's 24. She's blond and has cool pigtails. She's signed to a major label — Fontana, an imprint of Universal — based on the plain-spoken, forlorn romanticism in her lyrics and the passionate clarity in her deep, wide voice. She recorded her Paint Your Dreams CD at Jon Bon Jovi's studio with one of his producers after Jon Bon himself pushed Bouchelle to Universal.
Yet there she is at Suburban Station, several days a week, singing and playing guitar with copies of her CD inside the open case at her feet. Sometimes violinist Melanie Fedoryka stops by. Sometimes Bouchelle'll do a Motown number with those Rittenhouse rabblerousers Anthony Riley and Robby Torres. (See main bar.)
So what's a nice girl like her doing in the concourse near the McDonald's, making music for Regional Rail riders? For inspiration. For practice. And yeah, she's got a recording contract, but what better way of getting your music to the everyman? Isn't the everyman riding the train?
"I'm here all the time and never stop for nobody," says SEPTA loader Renaldo Fulton. "But she's a catcher; real star power this one."
"I like her cowgirl thing," says paralegal Bill Harrison.
In between her own sweet songs, Bouchelle's been known to tackle a cover or two. The Beatles' "Blackbird," sung a cappella, careens off Suburban Station's walls like a SuperBall.
"Usually there are duets and solo acts around each corner, with the musical sounds overlapping at some turns forming a bit of a dissonant sound," says Bouchelle. But when it's her voice alone in the concourse — singing REM, or even Green Day songs — it's heavenly, really. She sounds better the farther you get from her.
That's a compliment.
She laughs when you tell her so.
Bouchelle has had some pain in her life — grew up poor, dad died when she was young, lost mom to alcoholism — but she doesn't ruminate much on such things in her lyrics. Even when her songs are heartsick and broken, Bouchelle lines her words in silver.
Then there're songs like the carefree Aimee Mann-inspired "Holding On To Air" about a little girl blowing bubbles in the park who lets some float away and pops others for fun. And the insanely contagious "Insane" about forgetting to be careful when you're falling in love. "You make no provisions for the rain," says Bouchelle, summing up "Insane" and its anti-cautionary tale.
"I've met obstacles but try to find the good in all situations," she says. She already made and self-released several CDs on her own WetDuck label before meeting Jon Bon Jovi two years ago in Atlantic City. She was performing at the Borgata. He liked what he heard. He got her labeled up and had her sing backup for a December 2006 Bon Jovi gig with Bruce Springsteen in Red Bank, NJ. Next thing you know, old Lisa's a millionaire.
Not really. Or else she wouldn't be playing for cash at Suburban Station. Then again, Riley and Torres can make between $200 and $400 a day when they're down here. Bouchelle won't say how much she makes from busking. But that "Blackbird" rendition? "The first time I did it, I closed my eyes only to open them and find my case filled with cash."
Bouchelle had seen lots of street musicians playing in New Orleans and other road stops. But hearing the soulfulness of Riley's voice made her stop, stare and decide that she wanted to do that too, to busk.
"One day I went down there with my guitar to find them but didn't, so I set up and tried it," says Bouchelle. "It was fun and I made some money."
"She's great, really fresh," says Torres. He's been bopping back and forth between Suburban and Market East as of late. And Fedoryka? She just happened onto Suburban Station not long ago.
"Busking at Suburban Station is so much more than just making a buck," says Fedoryka. Along with Bouchelle, she's one of very few women playing there. "That definitely helped bond us," says the young violinist.
"Almost every single time I leave the station, I'm awed by people's generosity," says Fedoryka. "I've come to learn that if I go out to play for money, I won't get it. It's when I forget about that, and focus on playing my heart out to make people happy it's then that I get more of a reward than I came for."
Part of that reward may come due to Bouchelle, while planning a national tour, losing her violinist to a gig in Spain. Now, Bouchelle is considering Fedoryka for the job.
Bouchelle found herself seeking out buskers in other cities, picking up little bits of inspiration. "I saw an accordion player jump on the Metro in Paris and play, collect money, and jump off at the next stop," says Bouchelle. "As we pulled away his accordion got more and more faint. I tried to capture that with an accordion player on my CD," she says pointing to the wheezing finality of "Overrated."
She makes a couple extra bucks and meets extraordinary players with whom she feels no competition. "Or us from her," says Torres. "The real competition is about ego — not money."
And even as a novice, Bouchelle believes she's created a profound bond — not only with this local music community beyond the same old, same old but with a whole new audience.
"There's a real scene down in Suburban Station," says Bouchelle. "I feel it every time I'm down there."
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