IT took 30 years of playing guitar in Grand Central Terminal and on New York City streets, but Luke Ryan finally landed a corporate sponsor.

Mr. Ryan, 58, usually plays a couple of mornings a week at Grand Central, making him a fixture there, whether commuters notice or not. On Thursday, Mr. Ryan had set up his microphone and speakers in front of where the Times Square shuttles scoot in and out, and there were near constant lines of people heading in both directions. Some people glanced at the source of the sound, some even tugged at their pockets as they passed as though retrieving a dollar, but no one dropped in any change.

“Hey, what happened, everyone looks cranky today. Is it a boyfriend? Is it a girlfriend? Is it the economy?” Mr. Ryan said into his microphone, after finishing a growling version of “Piano Man.” “If you need any help with being poor, ask me. I’ve been doing it forever.”

His leather vest was coming apart at the seams, and his black T-shirt with a skull on it had seen a few wearings. (He says he likes buying Salvation Army T-shirts because they are cheap and weird, like the one he bought that says ‘I was driven wild at David’s bar mitzvah.’) Mr. Ryan was going to have fun that morning, even if his audience was not.