as a part of the interesting project karljohan.org a journalist-student made this little video about buskers on karl johans gate, and kind of tied it all together using the conversation that she struck up with me on a saturday, springtime this year. i think now that she might have wanted to know stuff about the street in general, but i feel i was more concerned about justifying why im there so much, while i kind of wished i could always roam and play new cities and streets all the time. “busking is for travellers.” but like it or not. it really works there!
…came up to me on the street one day of hungover coin-collecting in august(2012) when everything was going wrong, and he asked, if he could come a little closer to film a song. i think i tried to say no in at least three ways, but he obviously asked four times or more. i was feeling shitty, so i put on sunglasses and tried my worst not to look good. the fish eye camera lens does that all by itself.
Another downtown-Oslo-moment from the strange life of Mr. Orkester. This was my last autumn-day before driving of to Germany travelling and playing again after enough time spent in the north. Playing a real beggars-tune about being fed up of that very street, on the program with the same name, Karl Johans Gate. Like i said, i left that old town the same night, feeling great as usual in those moments. Longer version of the song is being played on other streets in these days and nights to come.
…totally aware of the luck i had, i walked straight into the eye of a storm. On the first day without rain in a full month i arrived, perfect for blowing my lungs out on top of the baruljo of buses and general busyness. Walking down the street at night happily tired in this huge great city of millions I bumped into the strangest little click of clowns, jugglers and ragged musicians. More about them to come, as friendships have been welded. I was dragged up to some kind of headquarter of theirs in the tower of an old-town building and pushed onto this little stage. I believed I would never see these people again, so I thought I might as well go through the old routine of not knowing what the hell im doing on camera. I was shaky at the moment, and only remember it well enough to know that me myself and I wont sit down and watch this mad little clip before looong. You can still try if you dare. The old trobadour-tradition of interchanging guitars was done just after this moment, and I took with me out into some months of travelling in south america a crooked old Bahia Resonator in place of this all too-shiny new one, of wich now Cisco, the grand man behind the scenes here, has become the owner.
For a change i agreed on playing in front of a camera, and we met up on a quiet praça at night. Did i say A camera? This crew brought, like, seven. Big ones. And three sound recorders. Luckily no make upartists, but a dedicated Instagrammer! Big damn crew for one little musician. And I was sweating already, in the brazilian summer. These guys didnt like the backdrop-sounds of the city(!), and wanted to remove it, ending up erasing lots of the hot stuff on the soundside. When I commented on it, they called me Master Orkester…haha. This is my first song trying to write, and sing in spanish. See the lyrics-section for a written version.
My first day of playing streets in this town was celebrated by dancing girls and the konfetti was flying:
…one day later. A standup-straightforward-version of my song Street as Dancefloor, recorded by some smart guy on some dumb phone. This little video had legs to walk on, and somehow it was seen by forty thousand people in two weeks time: