Metro Music

The Metro in Madrid is a funny place. The early morning trains are full of business people and people just finishing their business from the night before. Usually the latter are falling asleep in between each station (yes, you know what I’m talking about- we all do it- and if you haven’t done it you’ve seen it). The afternoon is full  of people going to and from siesta, getting their kids from and back to school, shuffling in and out of train cars in accelerated blurs.
 The night time you can only imagine.
 But no matter what time of day no one is free from surprise subjugation to one of Madrid’s many charms. Sometimes you see them coming. They’re pulling their little amps on a bundled up stroller. They make eye contact with a sly smile that suggests they know something you don’t, but in fact you do see the wire coming from the stroller all the way into a slender microphone interred in their sleeve. Often times you don’t even see them coming. You run onto a crowded train just before the door closes, safely reserve a spot leaning on the opposite door, and just as you begin a conversation with the person next to you-

The glare from the brass instrument catches your eye just before the music reaches your ears. The notes fill the small amount of empty spaces between all the people in the train. Everyone turns to see where the music is coming from. It might be a whole band, each person equipped with a flute or a bongo or a microphone. It might be just one old man, weary and worn, blowing with all his soul into an equally worn brass horn. 

Accordions, guitars, glasses with water in them- whatever the instrument these people bring a little life to the city. A certain intangible essence. But just as quickly as they appeared, furtively dragging their equipment behind them, they’ve slipped out the last door, quickly hustling to the next train car to make another ten or twenty cents. Or maybe to bring a little more life to the otherwise often bland commute.