On a quiet midweek evening, a large crowd has started gathering in a wide arc around Spanish musician Diana Gomez, flanked by two amplifiers, as she cranks out contemporary music from her deep purple cello.
Her professional set-up displays QR codes, €10 USB sticks featuring some of her material, and signs stating that she accepts payments via Revolut. Who needs coins in a guitar case?
“I found on the internet it’s possible to play on the streets with a licence and that’s the only reason [I came],” the cellist says. “I didn’t know anybody here, the only thing I knew is that I could make a living playing music.”
Originally from Murcia near Alicante, the 30-year-old used to perform in Spain but found the limitations difficult and had occasional encounters with a police officer telling her to keep it down.
Michael Harding: I went to the cinema to see Small Things Like These. By the time I emerged I had concluded the film was crap
Look inside: 1950s bungalow transformed into modern five-bed home in Greystones for €1.15m
‘I’m in my early 30s and recently married - but I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with her’
Karlin Lillington: Big Tech may not get everything it wants from Trump
“Amps with less watts means a worse quality of sound,” she says. “So I really love playing here because the quality of the sound is amazing.”
The crowd surrounding Gomez appears to agree.
The cellist typifies the variety of performers on Dublin’s Grafton Street, the hub of Irish busking, which has, for the last eight years, come under bylaws introduced by the local authority. When Gomez first arrived, she initially overstayed the one-hour time limit for performing on Grafton Street and was quickly pulled up over it by Dublin City Council.
Just opposite St Stephen’s Green, David Hayden (22) finishes up a rendition of Billy Joel’s New York State Of Mind on his large Roland keyboard before introducing the next musician and encouraging the audience to stick around.
“We can actually help each other out,” he says. “I had agreed with Tadgh an hour ago that I would play ‘til about five past because the player before me went over the hour as well. It’s great that we’re just able to communicate and do that… people were kind of against each other [before], whereas we are very much with each other now.”
Hayden knows buskers who were around before bylaws came into force and has heard the stories of some hogging spots around the free-for-all city stage. Since then, there has been a sense that buskers have embraced the new Street Performance Permit code, which has professionalised an activity that many tourists are keen to see.
Not everyone is singing from the same songbook though. In the eight years of regulation, there have been more than 1,000 official complaints filed with Dublin City Council about street performers.
An overwhelming majority of these address volume – some 630 complaints, or 61 per cent of the 1,038 total. Buskers are, in most cases, kitted out with substantial sound systems.
[ Busking left ‘decimated’: The Christmas the music died due to CovidOpens in new window ]
Other grievances are more general, with one in five complaints not specified, and 4 per cent relating to specific instruments (it seems trumpets, drums, bongos and bagpipes have a maddening effect). An even smaller proportion address the times musicians play until, enforcement of the bylaws, a lack of visible permits, or performers blocking the street or building entrances.
I actually think that they [permits] work and that other jurisdictions are looking at our example
— Cllr Mannix Flynn
Data obtained under Freedom of Information legislation also throw up the odd complaint about the age of a performer; the use of backing tracks; inappropriate behaviour and profanity; repetition of a limited repertoire; and damage to business as a result of their presence.
“Some songs I used to love – and now I hate them,” says Elizabeth Beattie, manager of Health Matters on Grafton Street. “I’ve heard that song Grace I don’t know how many times today because that guy – that’s all he knows, about four songs. And he plays the same thing again and again and again.”
Beattie is not alone in her concerns, with businesses often complaining about having to tolerate loud, repetitive performers. It was a long-standing concern that helped to bring about the bylaws in the first place.
A public consultation in January 2015 found an overwhelming majority of gripes related to “excessive noise”, with many participants seeking a ban on amplification that never materialised. The following month, Dublin City Councillors adopted bylaws that would bring to an end the old days of wandering balladeers setting up randomly on street corners to sing for their suppers.
Under the new regime, volume was restricted to 80 decibels, annual permits costing €30 (with an additional €60 for an amplifier) were introduced, and time limits were enforced – all of which would be policed by wandering inspectors.
“I actually think that they work and that other jurisdictions are looking at our example,” says Cllr Mannix Flynn, who led the push for regulation and paid the price when his home and art studio was vandalised by opponents in 2015. “I definitely think they have a cultural democracy about them.”
[ ‘I like to support buskers who add so much culture and beauty to our streets’Opens in new window ]
Previously, he says, issues arose – large crowds obstructed pedestrian areas, bands drowned out individuals or artists playing acoustic instruments, and there was occasionally intimidation. An initial voluntary code appeared insufficient.
“The likes of Grafton Street became almost impossible for individuals and they didn’t want to go into work. You would avoid Grafton Street because it was too much,” says Flynn.
“The problem for me was simple. There wasn’t an instrument, for want of a better word, where we could govern this. Anyone could go out into the streets and do what they liked in terms of being a busker. There was no law to stop them.”
Sometimes people look down on buskers a little bit... I always find it a little bit disrespectful if they talk down [to you] as if we’re just begging for money or something
— David Adderley, busker
Fines of up to €1,500 are now applicable, but fewer than 100 have been issued in the eight years since the bylaws came in.
The licence fees had brought in almost €195,000 up to the end of last year, an annual average of about €24,000, hardly significant for a local authority with an annual operating budget of more than €1 billion.
Most complaints are, unsurprisingly, made about performers on Grafton Street. Site-specific data from September 2019 to the middle of last March showed about 62 per cent related to the pedestrianised thoroughfare. While it is not publicly known who lodges the complaints, large numbers of them are made about performances outside Brown Thomas and Bewleys, and the Crampton Buildings in Temple Bar.
The Temple Bar area accounted for 18 per cent of busker-related complaints over that near four-year period; O’Connell Street and Talbot Street made up 4 per cent each; and Wicklow Street, Smithfield, South King Street, Grattan Bridge and Capel Street Bridge each accounted for 3 per cent.
Areas outside the immediate city centre that drew some complaints included Cabra, Rathmines, Clontarf, Portobello, Charlemont Mall and Sandymount.
“It’s a big community and we all know each other very well,” says David Adderley, an ebullient 19-year-old busker who was setting up to play on Grafton Street.
“Sometimes people look down on buskers a little bit. A lot of people do this for their full-time job. I always find it a little bit disrespectful if they talk down [to you] as if we’re just begging for money or something. I think a lot of buskers provide for the atmosphere on the street and for the culture of Dublin as well.”
