Piano man composes diverse soundtrack of Court Street
By Aaron Yeager, Staff Writer
September 24, 2007 | 4:05 p.m.
It's a typical Friday night on Court Street: heels are clopping, crowds are chattering, sirens are screaming. But amidst all this undue noise and bustle, a man is playing a piano.
Rick, seated at his Melodigrand piano, plays a simple, upbeat improvisation while pausing to voice his reservations about being interviewed.
"I'm sick of publicity and the Internet," Rick said. "You find your own niche, and what do you need publicity for? They could come asking in a town this size if they needed something."
Rick, who declined to give his last name, has performed across America in "fancy venues" with nice pianos and champagne, as well as on street corners as he does in Athens. In this town, he said, he's basically "one step above a panhandler." Yet, for such a dramatic drop in status, the pianist prefers his unassuming role.
"Athens is the most fun place in America," Rick said. "This is what Cali thinks it is."
Rick spurns playing indoors because of the stuffy atmosphere and competition involved. "Out here, I'm free from politics," he said.
Situated just outside of the store Cross Court on most weekend nights, Rick resembles a softer-looking Danny Trejo (Machete of "Grindhouse" fame) and wears a Panama hat and hearing aids. As he returns to playing, his collections basket starts to wobble in time. Meanwhile, a van pulls up, and someone from within shouts incomprehensibly to him. Rick smiles and nods in acknowledgment.
While Rick is on friendly terms with many in the community, he's seen his fair share of ne'er-do-wells.
"They're sneaky. They hit and run, say something, throw something, shout something. It's that sneaky, cowardly aspect that makes an asshole an asshole" as opposed to a mere thug, Rick said.
Along with having eggs and footballs thrown at him, Rick has been pushed into a glass storefront. Once in Washington D.C., the pianist spent a weekend in jail for refusing to vacate his spot.
"You're people's guests," Rick said. "It's not insulated."
As he plays, staring earnestly off into space, a student compliments him in passing. "You're good. You're really good," she said. Rick gives an ironical, knowing smile and thanks the passerby.
"Fifty percent of people only see the package," Rick said. "They say, 'Oh, someone's playing on the street,' but they don't really hear anything." The pianist went on to explain that this oblivious attitude is the reason why many "without talent" get by doing the same thing as he does.
On the other side of the spectrum, Rick resents those who try to discuss finer points about his music. "People can be annoying even when they don't try to be," he said. "This is a very narrow style of blues piano. Not many college students are familiar with it."
"Music is a currency of pop culture, so people figure, 'He's playing, he must want to talk about it,'" Rick said.
Rick then demonstrates the complexity of his craft by changing the position of his left hand to a "Kansas City style," which creates stronger, more staccato passages. He then transitions smartly into a "New York City style," which is tinkly and smooth.
Rick prefers to play boogie and blues improvisations but also takes pop song requests. He names his chief influences as Jimmy Yancey, James Booker, Meade Lux Lewis and Cow Cow Davenport.
Yet despite thirty years of experience and a wealth of knowledge, the pianist prefers his, if you'll excuse the pun, low-key position.
There are colleagues to whom "a stamp of approval means a lot, and the music means zero," Rick said. "I could care less about a drop in status."
After Rick says this, an acquaintance who works at McDonald's walks up to him. Exasperated after recapping all of the negative parts of his job, Rick asks the man if he'd like to trade jobs. Once again flashing an ironical grin, the pianist returns to playing without a moment's hesitation.