BOSTON, MA., July 3—The other juggler was furious. Absolutely livid. Here
was the start of the July 4th weekend and the best spot he could obtain for his
self-proclaimed superior juggling presentation was the furthest point south of
the Faneuil Hall/Quincy Marketplace entrance.
Multitudes of visitors flocked to the more visible juggler, favorably
positioned in the Marketplace’s premier front-center spot only yards away from
Josiah Quincy’s original Greek-style columns.
I was especially early in arriving to Faneuil Hall/Quincy Marketplace for Ryanhood’s 1:00-3:00 p.m. performance slot on this day; an hour early, to be exact. So I had time to roam around the Marketplace at large. I witnessed the clash of the jugglers.
“I’ll do more than juggle for you. I’ll ride a unicycle; he won’t.
This is not a good spot but it’s the only one I’ll have for the whole
day and this is the only performance you’ll see,” whined the classically
attired juggler/unicyclist known only as B. Dwyer. B. (some say it stands for “Brain,” for others it means
“Brian”) emphasized that he is from Cambridge, where culture and humanity
reigns supreme. The OTHER guy was
from Somerville, home to the Winter Hill Gang and other similarly inclined
reprobates.
The other guy calls himself Lucky Bob, and he presents the
streetwise attitude-to-spare Lucky Show. Like
B., Lucky is very adept at what he does. Unlike B., he doesn’t don conventional performance attire.
Oh no. Lucky Bob dresses in
street-cred mode and is bedecked in tattoos to boot.
He defies the sensitivities of his audience as he defies gravity in his
act. Lucky is an equal opportunity pre-emptive strike oppressor; vulnerable folks
beware.
Most people would consider Lucky Bob to be your typical
carnival barker; a comedian of sorts. Others
may consider him outright aggressive. It fits in with his presentation so he gets away with it
easily enough, but one doesn’t need to test the boundaries of imagination to
see how he strategically outmaneuvers B. for premium locations throughout the
Marketplace. Ryan and Cameron
caught a glimpse of Lucky’s belligerent interpersonal communication style
themselves.
On this day Ryanhood was allotted South Market’s Number 4
Building as their performing area. This
is a difficult area for musical acts. Another
musician later told Cameron Hood that he refuses to perform there.
Unlike the jugglers and magicians, musical performers like Ryanhood, with
electrical equipment restraints, cannot position themselves at center point and
build a circular audience around them. In
this wider expanse only the most visually and musically interesting acts can
catch the attention of passers-by.
Ryan and Cameron, yet again, managed to create audience
interest. Although essentially the
same as when the series began, their set continues to evolve.
One of the afternoon’s genuine crowd pleasers was Ryanhood’s version
of The Beatles’ “Two of Us.” Their
sound grabs you as you pass by and motivates you to explore further. Their
relationship with an audience is exceptional; they’re inclusive individuals
and make you an integral part of what they are doing. They make what they do
look so easy and natural and are not pretentious about it. They certainly could
be; they have the talent to get away with it. That would be a shame and a loss,
because they are so much fun. Ryanhood’s performance cries out “enjoy our
talent and be part of it” rather than “hear how talented we are.”
I have observed how the variety acts in this series have
taken a disliking to Ryanhood, for obvious reasons. Musicians aren’t supposed to communicate with audiences in
a comedic or entertaining fashion, are they?
Isn’t that the domain of the strictly verbal and visual barkers?
Where do these two guys come off trying to compete with the Lucky Bobs?
On two occasions during Ryanhood’s two-hour performance
slot Lucky Bob pranced by and loudly proclaimed to Ryan and Cameron that theirs
was HIS spot at 3 p.m. Cameron
respectfully acknowledged Bob’s gracious reminder on one of the instances, but
one couldn’t help but detect a slight bit of annoyance in his voice.
As my time piece read 2:50 p.m., so apparently did
Ryan’s. As Ryanhood was
concluding another superb rendition of one of their beautiful original songs,
Lucky Bob descended on them like a pack of wolves and ordered them to pack up
their wears. When Ryan informed L.B.
that it was several minutes before changeover time, and pointed to a prominent
clock in the courtyard as immediate proof, Lucky shot back by pointing to
another distant clock elsewhere while proclaiming “that’s the clock we all
go by here.” I’m sure Ryan
appreciated Lucky’s generous professional helpful hint.
L.B. hardly took very kindly to me earlier in the day.
I don’t think he relishes guys like me taking pictures of him.
I couldn’t resist catching him, yet again, in action; in Ryanhood’s
spot no less. He boldly declared to
me that he “better not see these pictures on E-bay.”
I’m happy to report that this clever retort garnered no laughs from his
emerging audience. I did truthfully
reply that the pictures wouldn’t be posted there, but would appear in the
Ryanhood Report site.
Lest you think it’s a country club existence for Ryan and
Cameron at this Festival...
David D.
