More than tips: Buskers seek applause and audience interaction

SINGAPORE – Valerie Su, 33, is busking alone for the first time. 

For years, the freelance football coach and licensed busker used to be part of a group performing freestyle football, which involves creative tricks and stunts using a ball with any part of the body. 

Su is known in the sports community as Singapore’s first female freestyle footballer. She is returning to busking after an eight-year hiatus.

One Friday evening in July, she sets up her sound system, a collection box for tips and a signboard with a QR code for e-tips in front of Wisma Atria mall facing Orchard Road. She balances, rolls and flicks a football in complicated sequences, with a bright, show-business smile in place throughout. 

Some people walk by, but keep glancing back at her, loath to stop and stare. Others pause to watch, but from far away. Many stride briskly past in a determined fashion. A couple eat their ice cream mere metres away, looking past her.

At particularly acrobatic moments, there is the sporadic click of phone cameras and scattered bursts of applause. The rare few approach her: First, a pre-schooler, then a strapping young man ask her to teach them some moves.

At the end of the hour, Su takes a bow, with just $7 in tips to show for her efforts. But she is not busking to make a living and she is undeterred.

“There’s a lot of trial and error to see what works. If I don’t get the crowd to stop, it could be because people are rushing off. The timing matters and an after-dinner slot would have been better,” she says.

While she busks only occasionally, she relishes the chance to spread awareness about a 14-year-old hobby she is passionate about. 

“I like busking more than staged performances, even though those pay a lot more. I find joy in it. I can joke with the crowd and I like the human interaction,” says Su, who studied sports management at university and coaches a wide range of ages, from pre-schoolers to young adults.

Buskers and public performers interviewed by The Straits Times say they find satisfaction in showcasing their craft. But even though the street acts are more diverse than ever, spanning bubble artists to musicians using holograms, they say that how Singaporean audiences react to performers in public remains a work in progress, with many wishing for more engagement.

Aqeel Sidek Tyebally, a 26-year-old university student, sometimes busks as a circus performer, juggling and doing unicycle tricks at East Coast Park.

He notices a certain reticence in his audience. “It takes a while to build up even a small crowd, especially if people are going about their normal routine and a performance comes on. We don’t seem to have a culture of wanting to engage publicly with someone,” he says.

“There’s a sense that, even if you find something interesting, you don’t want to feel like the odd one out, in engaging with someone about it.

“People don’t like the attention to be on them. It’s only when the crowd starts to disperse and I’m packing up, that one or two persons will come up to me to have a chat,” he says, adding that he feels encouraged whenever that happens.    

Don’t ever stick out

Arts educator Audrey Wong notes that many Singaporeans may not want to interact with buskers as they are not at ease doing anything in a public space deemed “out of the ordinary”.

“What if the busker asks you to interact with him? Other passers-by will also be looking at you. People in Singapore generally are uncomfortable being the focus of attention,” says the programme leader of MA Arts and Cultural Leadership from Lasalle College of the Arts, University of the Arts Singapore. 

She adds that some Singaporeans may be hesitant as they are unsure what is permitted in a public space. 

In response to queries from ST, a National Arts Council (NAC) spokesperson notes: “In Singapore, a public entertainment licence is required for any public-facing activities or performances.”

Busking is exempted from this licensing, but can take place only at NAC-designated locations, where buskers must display a Letter of Endorsement prominently. Aspiring buskers can obtain a Letter of Endorsement if they pass busking auditions held four times a year. 

The spokesperson adds that there are currently over 500 endorsed busking acts, including guzheng musicians, marionette and puppetry artists, bubble artists and typewriter poets. The latter customise poems on the spot on vintage mechanical typewriters. 

Since 2024, NAC has introduced busking to more than 40 new locations, including heartland neighbourhoods, tourist attractions like the Night Safari, hawker centres and the Central Business District. There are more than 90 busking spots across Singapore.

Concert hall to the masses

Tan Chu Yuan, 34, is a licensed busker and guzheng instructor who strums the traditional Chinese instrument a few times a week, often for three hours straight, at heartland areas across the island. He often performs close to hawker centres and outside MRT stations, in places like Chong Pang, Fengshan and Beo Crescent.

He is known for donning a suit – usually a jacket, shirt and trousers from G2000 – during his performances, even on sweltering days, since he began busking in November 2022.

He explains his attire: “From the start, I’ve been wearing the suit to bring the concert atmosphere to the public. It’s also a form of respect towards myself and the audience.

“It’s like a uniform. You can’t expect a policeman or soldier to take off their uniform just because it’s hot. Whenever I start playing, as long as I don’t stop, the heat won’t bother me at all. I’m already in that flow state.”   

One afternoon in July, he is plucking the guzheng in the walkway between Pasir Ris MRT station and White Sands shopping centre. His cascade of notes soars above the bustle of the crowded passageway, which has sales representatives from two insurance companies peddling their services, a man in a wheelchair selling tissues and a woman with a placard advertising a restaurant.

Wong from Lasalle raises the question of whether busking spaces can be more clearly demarcated. “If a space is permitted to be used for busking, it might be quite nice if there was some indication that this is a place for busking,” she says, adding that the authorities like SMRT and town councils could consider making these designated spaces more attractive and appealing.

But Tan – who calls himself “the man in suit x guzheng” on his Instagram account, @into.thetunes – does not mind the press of the lunchtime crowd. He enjoys the thrill of live performance.

Tan’s expression while performing is calm and focused, even when he unhesitatingly attends to a couple of schoolgirls, who step up to ask him about his work.

As he coaxes a rich yet delicate swell of music from his guzheng – an instrument he regards as being able to “replicate the singing voice” – one woman watches on the steps of the MRT station, rapt, as she records the moment on her mobile.

“There are now more opportunities to perform for those who have a passion to bring their art to the streets. In a concert hall, people pay to come and watch you, but you can’t see the audience; it’s almost pitch black.

“Busking is very refreshing. People may not stop for you and you have the urge to try and make them stop. If they do, it means you’re successful in a way. You’re able to touch someone with your music,” says Tan, who has a bachelor’s degree in music education from Singapore University of Social Sciences.

He adds that there are not many opportunities to watch guzheng concerts, which could cost around $100 a ticket. He finds Singaporeans to be “quite generous” tippers and he once witnessed a child emptying a wallet of coins into his container for tips.

He earns around $300 per busking session and also teaches at his father’s music school, Zheng Professionals, in Tampines. The older man, who is semi-retired at 61 years old, taught Tan – the older of his two sons – to play the guzheng from the age of five.

Copying K-pop

Performing in public is a way of gaining visibility for Grid, an all-male K-pop dance crew with 15 members. 

Grid member Jayden Lee, a 26-year-old property agent, says: “The performance is more about the filming of the cover.”

A K-pop cover is a performance where fans or other artistes copy a song or dance originally done by a K-pop group, right down to the choreography, costumes and facial expressions. 

Grid recently performed the song We On Fire (2026) by multinational boy band &Team at Bugis Junction, which was recorded and released on their YouTube channel @onthegridsg, gaining at least 2,700 views.

Besides showcasing their love of K-pop on social media, Grid, which perform twice a month, also take part in competitions, winning the Dance Dance Hallyu contest in June, Singapore’s preliminary round for the 2026 Kpopworld Festival & Worldwide Dance Competition.

Arts researcher Hoe Su Fern notes that there is “a growing appetite for live engagement and performance”.

“Busking transforms our spaces, which are designed primarily for functional movement, into places where people are able to pause, interact and experience the arts and culture together,” says the principal research fellow and director of Cultural Policy Lab at Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts.

In addition, “the online space has transformed busking into a more versatile, far-reaching and interactive experience, reshaping how our buskers and artists are engaging with their audiences”, she says.

Hoe points to the emergence of greater “community bonding”, such as instances when spectators have sung along with street musicians and when Singaporeans express condolences for buskers who become “beloved community figures”.

In 2022, for example, there was an outpouring of well wishes online upon the death of 80-year-old Oh Ow Kee, a busker known as “Beads Uncle”, whose performances in front of Ngee Ann City in Orchard Road involved swinging large chains of beads around his neck and waist.

Some street performers hope for audiences to come closer. While applause and tips are always welcome, even small gestures are appreciated, they say.

Chen Jingjie, 25, leader of K-pop dance crew Grid, says: “I hope that more people will be open to coming up to know our team, by chatting with us or asking about our social media.”

“Tips are important too. They show that the crowd appreciates you and wants to support you. It’s like a form of feedback,” Su says.

“It’s good to have verbal encouragement and having people just stand for 30 seconds to watch a single freestyle football stunt. Even if you have no time and can’t stop, a smile and a thumb’s up would be great.”