(Click any pic to enlarge, and just click the “play” button to listen)
I parallel park Homer along a city street just two blocks off McKinney’s downtown square. Alvis and I grab our cameras — similar Nikon DSLR’s — and meander across the road.
As I step onto the opposite sidewalk, I see a dejected clown coming right for me. He is not smoking a cigarette, but he looks like he wants to be. We sidestep Sparkles and stroll along to a street barricaded at one end by a stage.
Onstage a two-man middle-aged band sits playing an upright bass and a steel guitar. Microphones pick up the sounds of both instruments, and a small PA mixes both and spits the results out waist-high speakers at the front of the stage.
The bass player’s creased khaki slacks, burgundy socks and black shoes belie the mood of his bright blue Hawaiian shirt. He occasionally blows on a harmonica mounted on a contraption that wraps around the back of his neck.
The guitarist’s scraggly gray goatee juts four inches below his chin, so that when he sings he appears to be trying to shake off a small kitten. While not a fashion plate, he at least looks like he planned his bright yellow sneakers, blue jeans, and southwestern shirt. His nose divides two seemingly opaque black disks that must be sunglasses.
Both wear what I can only guess are fedora hats. They’re no Razzmajazz, but they have style.
I clip my binaural mics on the ends of my camera bag and record a few bars while Alvis and I take pictures. It’s a great day to just wander around watching — and hearing — people.
(use earbuds or headphones for a more immersive, albeit short, experience)