New laws on busking are something to sing about
LIKE everyone else, I’ve been enjoying the recent spell of good weather. There is something liberating about being able to leave the house without first dressing up like an Arctic explorer.
Regardless of how benign the meteorological conditions are, though, it is worth remembering that some things are best experienced under a roof and while surrounded by four walls.
These include – and this is by no means an exhaustive list – watching television, eating your dinner, reading the newspaper, playing snooker and engaging in what are politely known as nocturnal activities. Oh, and listening to music.
I know, I know. Nobody, least of all me, disputes that more than 200,000 people happily went to see The Rolling Stones and Ed Sheeran performing in the open air last week. I’m just glad I wasn’t with them.
My theory is that a fair chunk of those punters were less interested in the music than just being at a big, communal event. The fact that they were about 72 miles from the stage probably didn’t bother most of them. It is quite possible that they’d have enjoyed themselves every bit as much if they had been watching a League of Ireland match, say, or the Paddy’s Day parade.
Yet it goes without saying that outdoor concerts are only a relatively minor part of a much broader issue. Thankfully, we have moved on from the days when it was quite normal for teenagers to roam the streets carrying ghetto blasters turned up to top volume.
Almost as bad, though, we instead have young men driving around with their car windows rolled down and gangsta rap blaring out at anyone unfortunate enough to be within a 100-yards radius.
I’d respectfully suggest that an automatic six penalty points for every offence would sort out that problem pretty quickly.
But the biggest scourge of all, of course, comes courtesy of the busking community. The issue is back on the agenda after councillors in Galway narrowly voted in favour of introducing certain restrictions on street entertainment.
The measures include a ban on the use of amplifiers before 6pm in designated parts of the city. Jugglers, acrobats and other performers whose act requires the audience to stop, watch or take part will also be outlawed before six in the evening.
Call me a killjoy, but none of this sounds unreasonable in a small city where people are trying to go about their lives during normal trading hours. Given that local businesses pay €35million a year in rates, they are perfectly entitled to raise concerns about the potential loss of income due to noise issues.
Of course, the problem is not restricted to Galway. On a recent visit to Wexford town, a friend of mine noticed a café owner closing over the front door as a group of buskers prepared to strike up a deafening racket. The upshot was that the premises looked like it had shut up shop for the day, which presumably had an effect on customer numbers.
The situation is even worse in Dublin, despite the introduction of several new by-laws in recent years. Buskers in the capital must hold a valid permit and, if they’re singing, ‘have a sufficient repertoire to play without repetition for at least 30 minutes’.
New restrictions on amplification and a complete ban on backing tracks were also brought in. Meanwhile, there must be a physical distance of at least 50 metres between different acts.
The regulations also stipulate that a busker ‘shall immediately cease performing if the crowd they have attracted is blocking a street’. If you want to see how that’s working out, try negotiating your way up Grafton Street on a Saturday afternoon. Still, it would be at least bearable if the buskers were any good. But even those of them who can carry a tune seldom have a spark of originality. Does the world really need another tortured take on Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door? I’m not convinced we even needed the Bob Dylan version in the first place.
Even though I sometimes walk up Grafton Street several times a week, I’d rarely be tempted to throw a couple of euro to a busker. The last time I did was to a guitarist playing a note-perfect rendition of the Harry Lime Theme, the haunting, insanely catchy signature tune from the 1949 film The Third Man.
But that particular busker had both talent and imagination.
Sadly, that’s the exception rather than the rule.