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American Songwriter March/April 2005 Up from the Tunnels Gonzalo Silva makes it on his own terms By Matthew S. Robinson Photos by James Cospito When most people hear of a Berklee-educated musician, they may
conjure the legendary likes of Gary Burton, Branford Marsalis and Paula Cole
– or even pop contemporaries likes John Mayer, Aimee Mann and other artists
who have “made it” in the traditional sense of the term. But in this age of
coalescing, convalescing and even crumbling labels, fewer and fewer artists
can afford to “make it” in this way. Thus, many find their own paths and seek
alternative outlets for career direction. For singer/songwriter Gonzalo Silva (www.gonzalosilva.com), that
path has lead downward, but now appears to be reversing its direction. Having
gotten his start as a busker in the subway tunnels of Boston, the
Montreal-born Silva has since decided to eschew the trappings of the
traditional performer in order to forge his own path underground. “It was
basically an evolution,” Silva suggests. “I have been doing this for 10
years, nine of which were trial and error.” Having tried to make it in the traditional sense for most of his
career, Silva came to realize that his occasional venue (i.e., the subway
tunnels of Boston, New York, Montreal and, most recently, Chicago) had in
fact become the heart and soul not only of his career but of his music. “I
realize that it was the subway that allowed me to sell records, “he explains,
“and since I did not have much marketing support, I realized that I needed to
go with what I knew. I realized that I could not rely on the current industry
climate to do what I wanted, so I decided to dedicate myself to this
approach, knowing that I could make at least as much as I could in any other
job I was qualified for with my music training.” Though Silva’s first memory of busking involved a juggler he saw
performing in Boston’s famed Faneuil Hall Marketplace, his first fellow
musical traveler was fellow subway star Mary Lou Lord. “She was the first
original musician I saw performing on the street,” Silva recalls. “She made
it look really cool. She always had a sort of mystique about her because she
had decided herself to this.” Since that time, Silva has taken inspiration from Chilean
Flamenco players, Canadian chanteuses and fellow Boston buskers like Lord,
Martin Sexton and Peter Mulvey – all of whom often return to the tunnels when
in Boston. “The lifestyle is very open,” he says of the busker’s practices.
“I am responsible for calling my own hours and going down there and I come
and go as I please.” Though Silva began his career during the evening hours, he soon
came to see the morning rush as the most promising time to perform. “You tend
to catch people off guard, “he surmises, “and they tend to be more supportive
and open in the morning.” Having found a reason to get up in the morning (as
opposed to the “typical artist-type hours” he kept in the early days), Silva
came to see busking not only as a true calling but also as a real job. “The
subway is my office, and I have to show up,” he says. Not that he dislikes
his work environment – “I actually prefer the underground because it is
acoustically and visually more captivating,” Silva suggests. “Even if my
audience is there for five minutes, it’s my audience. Above ground, I feel
dwarfed by the expanses and the people tend to be passing by.” During his early days in Boston, Silva was often accompanied by
fellow musical traveler Jason Gardner. “I enjoyed that arrangement because
Jason’s drumming gave the people something to connect with and allowed us to
work as a team, which was more comfortable,” he recalls. These days, however,
Silva is most often a solo act. “I am more comfortable playing on my own
now,” he says. And though he may prefer performing underground, Silva says
that he has reached a point where a reemergence may be in order. “I feel that
I have been doing this long enough that I am ready to reemerge to the streets
as a solo artist,” he says. “I have become comfortable enough in my skin and
have exposed myself enough that I am willing to suspect that there are some
passerby who are familiar with my presence, and that makes the job
comfortable for me.” It may be no wonder, then, that the opening track of his latest
CD, Busker, is called “Take Me to the Sun.” “It is hard to play above ground
in New York.” Silva says. “In New York, there are few places where you can go
and not get drowned out. That is different than, say, Harvard Square, where
there are sanctioned performances spaces. Even so, I think I am ready to try
it, even as a solo artist with original music.” And from whence does his original music originate? As with any
songwriter (at least any one worth listening to), Silva writes from personal
experience. However, he says, he also tries to craft the songs so that people
can relate to them. “It is a double-edged sword, in that I feel that my best
material is also the most honest and personal, and sometimes I feel that that
music is inappropriate for public performance,” he admits. In order to balance this musical tendency, Silva has also penned
a number of more uplifting and less personal tunes. Fortunately, he has found
audiences for both. “Some of my listeners appreciate the most honest stuff,”
he observes, “but the more pop-oriented stuff hopefully expands my audience
so that I can then bring them closer to the other stuff.” In the liner notes
of Busker, Silva invites the music lover into his head and heart with a frank
and honest assessment of his decision – drawing in the reader as he so often
does the listener. “I went into the subway to perform my songs with the naïve
notion that I would get discovered,” he begins, echoing the equally sage
introduction to Henry David Throeau’s Walden. “Little did I know that I would
be doing the discovering.” As the term “busker” comes from the French word
busquer (“to search”), it makes sense that Silva stay in the darker corners
of the world to find his musical soul. “The subway has pressured me to be
more mindful of more uplifting music, but it has also taught me the
importance of being as honest as I can,” he says. And such honesty goes further than just the music itself.
“Anything I do now is intuitive,” Silva suggests. “If I want to play a
ballad, I will honor that feeling, even at the risk of coming across as another
bleeding heart singer/songwriter.” Ultimately, Silva says, he has come to
realize that he cannot please everyone and that the true key to success is to
work on improving his performances. “Hopefully, that will allow me to continue to make it,” he says.
But is that all, Gonzalo? To “make it?” Is that the end of the dream? “At this point, there are two dreams,” he replies. “One is my
adolescent dream of sweeping commercial success. I used to have a definition
of what it was, but now the market has changed so much. I have lost that
definition. The other dream, which is the more practical dream, is to be
truly self-sufficient – not necessarily living on the edge as I did for a
long time, but to be disciplined and to keep at it.” In addition to being able to save money for the first time,
Silva has found other benefits to taking his music as seriously as he does,
going back into the tunnels day after day. “By just showing up and playing,”
he says, “I meet up with people who have heard me before and who recognize my
work, and that is part of the dream too because it helps me realize that it
can only get bigger and better. Even if success eludes me, I know that I have
created my own business and am making it on my own terms. I am at peace.” |
