Walking down Chapel Street, the interwoven medley of vibrant electric guitar melodies and sweet vocals might just be background music, but buskers like Michael Latronica and Joyce Catalano are repositories for stories both lived and observed. 

As people-watchers by profession, buskers serve as New Haven’s not-so-silent observers. Under the looming roof of the Yale Center for British Art, Catalano, who’s been busking for five years, has witnessed her fair share of intimate and intensely human moments. 

“People listen to me, but I watch them,” Catalano said. “I’ve seen good things and bad things. A man got down on one knee and proposed to his girlfriend in front of me. Another time, there was a homeless man with no shoes sitting on the ground, watching me. Another young man got out of his car and gave him some money, and the homeless man went to give me the money. The young man took off his shoes, gave them to him and drove away in his socks.” 

“They were Jordans,” she added. 

Catalano said she started busking during the pandemic, when public performances were taboo for fear of spreading disease — her own form of protest against the confinement she felt, as her voice echoed through deserted sidewalks. 

“There was no music allowed anywhere,” Catalano said. “And I said, ‘Screw that, I’m singing outside.’ I sing for people, I sing for myself and my own health.” 

Fueled by a desire to entertain, buskers are more than just performers: they’re people, who have lived and lost. For 74-year-old Latronica, who has busked across Connecticut for the past 13 years, music was his form of escape after a slew of misfortunes following his mother’s death sent him spiraling into depression. 

“I was sick for five and a half years after,” Latronica said. “I lost my wife, then my house, then my truck. You know, how much can somebody take? So I took an extension cord, put it out the window, brought my amplifier and my guitar down

and started playing. I was shocked to realize how much people enjoyed it, and I knew that I was doing it for my mom and myself.” 

Latronica first learned to play guitar when he was eight years old, playing on an instrument with only one string. He was taught by his father, who Latronica described as an alcoholic who often abused Latronica and his ten siblings, and whose voice was only gentle when it was guiding his son through the chorus of House of the Rising Sun. 

“My brother bought me a brand new guitar with six strings on it, and I didn’t know what to do with the other five strings,” Latronica said. “But my father said, ‘You’ve got an ear, Michael, and I’m going to teach you,’ and he taught me four chords: the ones to House of the Rising Sun.” 

Those five strings unlocked a whole new universe for Latronica, filled with infinite permutations to an art that struck the chords of his soul. Over four decades and two bands later, Latronica has never ceased to pursue what he loves, plucking the six reverberating strings of his Fender and bringing a smile to the fleeting faces of passersby. 

“To me, it’s not about money, it’s about entertaining people,” Latronica said. “It’s just a wonderful feeling to know that the people enjoy it. God gave me this gift and I’m sharing it. There ain’t enough gold out there to buy the feeling that I get when I see people walk up to me and say, ‘Thank you, sir.’” 

One struggle that buskers often face is the disdain of passersby who misunderstand their intentions, Catalano explained.

“I’m performing, I’m not begging,” Catalano said. “I’m giving. And I hope that that’s reciprocal. I get smiles, and conversations. This is my neighborhood, this is my city. I know the regulars: the dog walkers, students, visitors.” 

Museum guards sometimes request songs, she added.

From singing to strumming, buskers are an instrumental element of New Haven’s atmosphere, choosing to be vulnerable enough to share their passions and stories with passing strangers, simply out of a genuine love for their art and a hope of bringing joy into the lives of others.

“It brings people together, whether you’re listening to the performance together, or if in passing you’re talking to other people in the city about it,” Yale School of Medicine sophomore Stephanie Deng said. “There’s that shared connection.” 

The Yale Center for British Art is located at 1080 Chapel St.

This article was written for the Yale Daily News’ 2025 Summer Journalism Program for high school students.