Austin boasts over 150 venues booking live music, but one local busker said he'd rather share his beats on a street corner.
“In Austin, you need to be in a tribute band or a cover band, typically, to get a well-paying gig,” drummer Brian Foster said. “A lot of people playing original music are literally going into a club, giving them their all and then leaving with nothing.”
Foster, who has developed an online presence as the “crazy drummer,” has played bar gigs and even has a trio, the MotorHeadHunters. But, he said, growing a following is tough.
He said he prefers to keep playing solo on street corners, medians and shopping centers. That way, he said, can change up what he’s playing at the drop of the hat, often trying to guess what kind of beat a person might like.
“The ultimate freedom,” said Foster, who has his Venmo written on a drumhead propped up next to him. “That's what sums up why I busk; I've never felt so free.”
Unfortunately, that sometimes means playing for free — or at least very little.
“I'd get a free sandwich from the panini guy, which was really cool,” Ryan Rachui said of his early busking days near Barton Springs. “Back then I'd make 20 bucks a day and be happy.”
That was 13 years ago, when Rachui would play the same four songs for hours every day to save up money to visit his girlfriend in Louisiana.
"The ultimate freedom. That's what sums up why I busk; I've never felt so free.”Brian Foster, the "crazy drummer"
Rachui said he grew up learning trumpet and teaching himself piano. He can also play guitar. Following a difficult college and early career experience, he quit his job at a brewhouse with the feeling he needed to be doing something different.
“I was screaming at myself on the inside, like, ‘What are you doing?’” he said. “'You should be playing music.'”
Rachui said that's when he decided to start busking. Three years ago, he made it his full-time gig. He said he's currently living in the woods with his dog, but happy and saving up for a van to be able to take his one-man-band show to different cities.
Rachui said he makes around $500 a week, playing Thursday through Saturday at different locations from shopping malls to downtown Austin.
“He probably helps me make half my money,” he said about his dog. “People love dogs in Austin more than music.”
Rachui said laying claim to a street corner can be almost as difficult as breaking into the bar scene. What’s worse, he said, is Austin’s prohibition on personal amps.
Other city rules are laid out by the Office of Arts, Culture, Music and Entertainment. In Austin, buskers don't need a permit to play music, but they are prohibited from blocking sidewalks and must be respectful to nearby businesses and residents. They also need to cooperate with police requests.
Rachui said he uses a program to layer different instruments on top of each other. That requires an amp, so he still uses one — and hopes no one tells him to stop.
“I was setting up on Sixth and Congress, and all the cops, they all met up right across the street from me, and I was like, ‘Oh crap,’” Rachui said. “I kept playing, and they all just kind of were listening and enjoying it. And so that was the big turning point. Like, 'Oh, the cops, they're not so mean to me anymore, because they actually know I sound good.’”
Even after a busker finds a regular spot, the work isn’t easy.
Foster said people can be rude or drunkenly ask to play his drums. Sometimes, he said, it’s just hot outside or he’s too sore.
“It's hard-ass work, and I tell you what, I get out of it what I put into it,” he said. “You know, if I'm out there hard and like playing long 20-minute stretches without stopping, it seems like that's when I make better money and get more attention, and more people come and share the love with me.”
Foster and Rachui said they enjoy it too much to consider quitting. They’ve even played together a few times, though it’s a rarity.
“We both usually just go, ‘Hey, what's up? I'm gonna be around the corner,’” Foster said. “But we usually don't play together because we'll only make half the amount of money.”
For both of them, though, it’s about more than money. Foster said some people experiencing homelessness will even try to tip him, which just shows him how much his music means to the community.
“I might literally have people with no money coming up and giving me their only dollar,” he said. “It's the craziest thing, but the majority of them really appreciate what I do, because, you know, they don't get to go in a club and enjoy music.”
Ultimately, it comes down to playing for the city — perhaps the “Live Music Capital of the World” for more than just its venues .
“I'm from Austin,” Rachui said. “I want to make it awesome.”
