Street musicians are rare in Harm City, Rachel, but they exist. Now street rappers, you can find doing their headset mixes at every bus stop. As far as singing and playing instruments, there are two that I know of.
There is Sol, who hauls his plastic milk crate with money bucket and vodka bottle around in his left hand and carries his acoustic guitar in his right. His blues is good and his classic rock better. He plays outside of liquor stores—or did, until he beat up Aldo’s roommate and skipped town. He could take care of himself and I’d pity any hoodrat that tried to dip a hand in his money can, wherever it sits at present.
Recently, on Mothers say, I was down Fells Point when a suave, black, heavy metal guitarist who played a lot of Clapton and some Led Zeppelin on an electric guitar for which he had his own power source, set up on the brick median right across from the merchant’s square. He targeted his music to his audience, was pleasant, took requests, had an impressive Mohawk fade, did not sing at all, favoring rhythm over lead and would have been robbed, rolled, stomped and left lay for an ambulance in most neighborhoods where he looks like he would belong.
So yes, Rachel, street musicians can survive in Harm City. They just have to find out where You and Yours wine and dine, so that They might escape the cruel attention of Theirs.