The Written Word
for November 24, 1999

There was an item in the National Post a few weeks ago which caught my eye. A Montreal busker – that is, loosely translated a street musician or performer -–has been banned and threatened with a large fine if he doesn’t stop plying his trade. Why? Because he plays the spoons. Somehow this offends the city mothers and fathers who are quite content to have him play the accordion - which he now does - and play it very badly because he doesn’t know a damned thing about playing accordions.

The trouble is that his income has fallen from about $1800 per month to about $350. The poor chap has even had the noise levels of the two instruments checked and the spoons are far quieter than the accordion. I must admit that I nearly lost sympathy for this chap when he complained that the city allowed bagpipes – of course they would allowed bagpipes … any city with a soupcon of culture would allow the playing of that wonderful inspiring instrument.

We’re amazing people, really. When we go off to foreign lands we love all the colour that provides. In some cities, people at sidewalk cafes are entertained by colourful dancers or people who swallow swords or fiery torches and stuff like that. Mimes are very big in France and indeed, for some reason in San Francisco though, admittedly, they don’t make much noise – especially when compared to bagpipes, accordions or spoons.

But back home we’re humourless cretins. We’re told by City Councils – Vancouver is as bad as any – that buskers annoy people and drive away business. Yet when it comes to the Gay Parade, the PNE parade or a car race the same city council couldn’t care less about the merchants who might as well shut down or the ordinary citizens who want to drive the streets of their city. They close down an entire neighbourhood for days when a tobacco company wants to enhance its filthy business by having a foireworks display. A marathon, always of course for a "good cause" will tie up traffic an entire morning yet let someone stand on the street playing a mouth organ and all hell breaks loose.

The City of Burnaby – in a move which must make its citizens terribly proud of its council – has installed parking meters which collect money which would otherwise be spent on beggars. But There’s an idea! What the city of Montreal, and other cities ought to do is have parking meters with earphones attached so a person hankering for a bit of spoon music or a few bars of Scotland the Brave on the bagpipes need only put in a loony and listen away - always being careful not to tap the feet or sing along … after all, having fun is, if not outright proscribed, certainly considered bad form.

The world’s best buskers must surely be found in London. It is an old custom and produces some very fine performers. Any day – though Sunday is best – you can go to Covent Garden and hear a wonderful string quarter where the only admission cost is perhaps a quid or two in the hat that one of their helpers passes amongst the patrons of the courtyard restaurant where they ply their trade. Pipers are big on Oxford Street – they often occupy the same corners as the "fencers" who peddle stolen goods until the police arrive. There is one marvelous old chap outside the Queen’s grocery store, Fortnum and Mason’s near Piccadilly Circus who just plays an old harmonica but always has lots of change in his hat.

The tube stations are perhaps the best place, after Covent Garden, to go because you often get some really talented musicians at the bottom of those huge escalators. The tenor saxophone seems to be the favourite instrument.

My abiding minds-eye picture of a genuine busker is the sax player at the bottom of the Piccadilly line escalator who is playing some wonderful music while he stands under a sign that says "No Busking – Fine 200 Pounds."

In England, the cradle of all that’s civilized, they know that passing the law pleases some but that not enforcing it pleases more.

Now, if there were only some spoons on Regent Street ….