Normally I find the whole concept of subway buskers extremely horrifying/annoying. It is literally the most unbearable shit in the world when some clowns try to play music for me when I'm on the subway listening to "Sara" on my iPod to sloooowly ease myself into my day at the ungodly early hour of 10:15 AM. I mean, I'm pretty much a racist like everyone in the world is, as evidenced by the fact that I visibly shudder whenever I see:

*the 3 Mexican dudes in full regalia playing guitar and harmonizing: the only thought that goes through my head is "ugh," which goes double for

*that like Appalachian mountain folk dude who plays "soothing world music" on his pan-pipes (with a gigantic speaker blasting a CD accompanying him!).

*Or! When every Chinese dude plays the er hu or the pi pa or whatever, which I understand, yadda yadda yadda is an ancient instrument dating back centuries that is rich in cultural etc, but is not figuratively the worst sound to hear in a subway station while waiting for the next F train to never come.

*EVERYONE ALWAYS PLAYING the Godfather theme! Is that like the first song they give you the notation for in the Subway Busker Guide To Annoying Everyone?

*It's even more stomach-punch-worthy when I'm in Williamsburg waiting for the L and and there's like the 2 Whitey P Whiterton drop-out Julliard students playing "authentic blues," hooting and hollering about not having money and their women leaving them... Christ! Is there anything more offensive than that? It's almost as bad as all those "when ghostriding the whip goes wrong and these idiot white suburban teenagers crash their Jeep Cherokees" videos on youtube.

ANYWAYS I must attest that I have found the exception that proves the rule. What you are about to see below is not unlike the time I was walking in the Village and saw a gigantic white hummer limousine with its door open, Modjo blasting from the interior, and 15 of the guido-est guidos I have ever seen, shirtless, and ecstatically cheering: both things are a rare glimpse into the very face of raw, unedited truth.

Here then, gentle readers, is the truth itself, born naked for all to witness: