Elizabeth Song | I'm singin' in the streets

It's New York, 1967. You turn onto 128th and Lexington Avenue and right on the corner is Dizzy Gillespie and his coterie of jazz musicians playing up a storm. Their audience is a mix of housewives in aprons, old couples sitting on front porches and children dancing in the street.

The Jazzmobile's in town. Cruising around the five boroughs of New York, it's pure jazz on wheels.

And it's a prime example of what we need around here: free music in public spaces.

Think of it as the musical equivalent of a mobile library or the city's Mural Arts Program, bringing public services out to the people. Seattle this summer even paid musicians to play in public parks as a way to discourage crime and encourage families to get out.

You might think that we have plenty of art venues in town already.

Sure. We have the $265 million Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts. Orchestra seats will cost the average Jane $80 bucks a pop. Concerts are primarily filled by three types of people: art students, urban yuppies and rich suburban retirees.

Too often, music fails to find an audience outside of the rarefied air of concert halls or the impersonality of stale recordings. We forget that iPods aren't the only way to swing to the beat.

Street music is where everyone can enjoy the show. No one is too scared to cough before intermission, too shy to rush off in mid-beat, too loud or young to be welcomed.

"We could transform our public spaces from impersonal corridors into engaging and even memorable experiences," said Peggy Amsterdam, president of the Greater Philadelphia Cultural Alliance.

More than fancy concert halls or theaters, street musicians bring the arts into local communities. They do the city a public service, catering to the homeless and the power-suit crowd alike.

But if you think in dollar signs, public music is also one hell of a branding campaign.

Imagine Paris without the old-world charm of accordion music. Barcelona without the beat of tambourines and sultry flamenco. Beijing without its lute and erhu harmonies. New Orleans without jazz. Sound is key to defining a city's culture.

In many American cities, however, music is drowned out by noise. Big cities like New York are synonymous with it. Try walking down Walnut Street without being assaulted by the honks of rush hour traffic and the shouts of passerby.

In Philadelphia, Rittenhouse Square is a place to escape the urban racket. Wander into that slice of Philadelphia life, and you see old men playing chess, women sunbathing on the grass, construction workers eating hoagies, and moms pushing strollers. All on the same 700 by 700 foot plot of earth.

Yet this past spring, local singer Anthony Riley was arrested for daring to sing in Rittenhouse Square. His case is only the latest in a string of incidents. Local jazz legend Byard Lancaster, for example, has been arrested by SEPTA police for playing the sax on subway platforms.

But in the sewage-clogged SEPTA underworld, we need musicians more than ever. If you've ever taken the El late at night, you've heard those eerie, horror-movie silences interrupted by the whistle of trains and the oppressive drip of sewer water.

Far from a transcendent experience.

What better way to show that SEPTA cares than to provide music for clients? In fact, we can make the operation turn a profit - and help dig the cash-strapped company out of debt -- by selling permits or taking a small cut of panhandling revenues. Such a program could enrich public coffers, enliven the daily commute and maybe even launch a few musical careers.

Washington just began its MetroPerforms! series, a program to bring talented local artists into subway stations. This follows in the footsteps of cities like New York and London, where subway artists audition for the privilege to perform.

But let's not stop there. Musicians can open the floodgates for mimes, portrait sketchers, magicians, jugglers, even puppeteers.

We could certainly do with more people who make Philadelphians smile. You know, spread the brotherly love. More music, less blood, in the streets.

So you're almost sold. Just one question: How about the off-key, just plain horrible American Idol rejects waiting in the wings?

Yeah, I admit I'm scared of them too. But I'm also confident they'll be drowned out by a chorus of enthusiastic, talented voices.

So, lighten up, city officials. This is your cue to let Philadelphians take to the streets and sing.

Elizabeth Song is a College junior from Clemmons, N.C. Her e-mail address is song@dailypennsylvanian.com. Striking a Chord appears on alternating Wednesdays.

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