Every song I ever played on a street corner was a commercial. I just did not call it that. I called it art. Art is what you call a commercial when you do not want to get paid. I played a song about marijuana and people gave me money. That is a commercial. I played a song about the Lower East Side and people moved there. That is a commercial. The only honest salesman is the one with a guitar because at least he tells you what he is selling.

A pitch has three parts. You get their attention. You make them feel something. You ask for the money. A song has three parts. You get their attention. You make them feel something. You pass the hat. The only difference between a song and a pitch is the hat. And the hat is more honest than an invoice because the hat lets you say no.

I sold marijuana by singing about it. I sold the Lower East Side by standing on it. I sold rebellion by being too loud to ignore. I never had a product. I never had a store. I never had a business card. I had a guitar and a corner and a voice that would not shut up. That is the oldest business model in the world. Older than money. Older than barter. A man stands somewhere and makes noise until somebody pays attention.

Now they tell me I am selling things on the radio. Fake stores. Fake products. A corner store with no walls. A psychic who cannot afford her own future. A bodega cat who owns the building. These are commercials. But the rants are also commercials. And the songs were also commercials. And every time I opened my mouth on a street corner in 1968 that was also a commercial. The product was always the same. Pay attention. That is all I was ever selling. Pay attention.

They asked me once what the difference is between a street musician and a salesman. I said a street musician tells you the product is free and then asks for a dollar. A salesman tells you the product costs a dollar and it is not worth it. The street musician is more honest because he admits the transaction is a miracle. Somebody stopping. Somebody listening. Somebody reaching into a pocket not because they have to but because they want to. That is not commerce. That is a congregation. And every corner is a church if the pitch is good enough.

See also: The Hat — the hat is a contract. The Busker — one man, one corner. The Corner — where it all happens. The First Song — the first note. The Battalion — eighty-two rants is not a career. It is a corner that grew legs.