"Dude!"

Recently I have noticed that people call me dude.

When serving drinks at the bar, “thanks dude.”

On bumping into someone in town. “Alright, dude?”

When playing music in the streets. “Duuuuuude!”

Dude? I wonder whether this term says something about me, or more about the person using it.

Am I a dude?

One person who never fails to use it is Tony, a busker who I often meet in town. He is in his late thirties I think; balding and laidback. Stoic and resigned to his low busking earnings, rarely satisfied with his pay from a good day’s busk in the Central Arcade. But of course, ignoring the potential for a nasty turn of events, there is no truly bad day’s busk when one has chosen to stand and play your favourite songs.

He plays competent old blues with slide guitar and sings respectfully to the window of Windows, the music shop in the Central Arcade, slap in the centre of Newcastle. It is a prime spot for busking, as the dome roof makes for particularly resonant acoustics, allowing one to play with dynamics a lot more than usual. The voice reverberates and the guitar sounds clean and satisfying. Because one is standing outside the most central music shop in town, there is a fairly steady stream of young guitarists and old music buyers perhaps more inclined to enjoy a live performance, and therefore inclined to give money. Or plectrums.

I frequently have much fun at this spot. People can actually hear what you sing. My most common approach to busking is to directly engage people. To literally stop them and offer my services of entertainment. I mean, do you want a song or not? Let me deliver a bespoke melodic solution for your current emotional lack. Let’s make you fookin’ smile. And give us a quid while you're smiling.

Smiles for a pound.

Wikipedia writes, “Although the word dude is generally recognized as being used in casual situations, it may be considered awkward or even rude for a person to use the word dude to directly address someone with whom the speaker is unacquainted.”

Is it rude? Well I guess it would only be rude if I found it insulting. I don't, but it does seem to somewhat reduce your possibilities as a human being. Would you ask a dude to be your best man? Would you trust a dude with your child? Would a dude be capable of seriously engaging with life?

I think in this case, it probably says more about Tony’s perception of me (and possibly the world). He is older than me. Perhaps I make him feel this. By calling me dude, it makes me younger, something of a drop-out whipper-snapper. It’s like calling me “son”.

Perhaps it’s the way that he says it. Tony says “how’s it going, dude?” And I don’t hear that, I hear that character from the film, American Splendor:

“I’m a nerd.”

Dudeness. Of course. The Big Lebowski. Fair enough, it is one of my favourite films. Dudeness becomes a philosophy. Bridge’s character is laid back. Peaceful. A conscientious objector. He’s The Dude.

What about man. "Hey, man."

Man suggests a level of respect. It is informal, but it doesn't put holes in the pigeon in quite the same way. It is binary. Man. Not woman.

When stressed it becomes an exclamation. "Aww, man!" A multi-purpose sound that means good, bad, indifferent and so on.

Man, for me, usually means that I am not quite confident that I'm correct in my guess of someone's name.

Man or dude. I am definitely a man. That's a given. Dude?

Am I a dude? Enough people call me it. Has it become a self-fulfilling prophesy? Does my appearance put people at ease, or does it terrify them? Again, the eye of the beholder.

Anyway, his dudeness most go as Nachmi are performing to a crowd of young hippies in a sunny field today.

Man, I am a dude.