The future of Covent Garden’s street performers is under threat
Daredevil unicyclists, master illusionists, knife-eating acrobats: the performers of Covent Garden are an institution. They create a kooky, Vaudevillian microcosm, lapped up by eager tourists. Today, though, Westminster Council has launched a public consultation on the future of street performance in Covent Garden and Leicester Square.
Despite weathering a pandemic and adapting to a cashless world, it seems those clowns and magicians are now under threat. In April 2021, a licensing scheme was introduced to regulate performances across the borough. The measure has been boycotted by the Covent Garden Street Performers Association, or CGSPA, in favour of self-regulation, as the group says the rules essentially make their work illegal. After a delayed council vote on Monday, which aimed to enforce the legislation, Westminster Council pulled back from the brink: a public consultation will now be launched, running from January 8 to March 18 next year.
The scheme aims to regulate busking and street entertainment across 26 areas in London, ostensibly to “protect residents and businesses from excessive noise and overcrowding”. So far, so reasonable. But performers believe the scheme has the potential to limit their work entirely – and argue that the actual number of noise complaints is miniscule.
The fight for survival
It’s characters like Melvyn Altwarg, a clown who studied in Paris with Philippe Gaulier, who is leading the charge. He first performed in Covent Garden in the 1980s and clearly adores the place. He talks of how he used to gather a crowd by walking in front of groups with an unfolded map, getting in their way until enough attention was drawn to him. One can imagine the scene: the charming, roguish performer, an irresistible combination of the real East End and theatre impresario, essentially demanding people watch him. That impish character remains – but he’s serious about Covent Garden’s international reputation.
“Wherever I have travelled to – China, Singapore – everywhere you go, people have heard of Covent Garden and its street performers,” he says over a steaming coffee, as we shelter from the winter weather in a cafe near the market. “People tell me, ‘We’re going to London: we’re going to the designer shops and we’re going to Covent Garden.”
The destination regularly tops lists of the most exciting attractions in London. Pete Kolofsky – a tall, pale, dark-haired performer whose act includes lying within a “sandwich” of nails, thinks the spirit of the place lives or dies with them.
Kolofsky is a “man of mystery”, according to Altwarg – with his deep set eyes and all-black outfit, he’s certainly arresting. He’s perceptive, too. “The shops may have changed – there are Apple Stores and high end outlets and the rest – but the true, old market remains. That’s important for visitors.”
The relationship with the traders, he says, is not fractious. “They come and ask us for change! We help each other out,” he insists. “That’s not where the problem is at all.”
Thousands of complaints
It’s noise that the council seems particularly concerned about. In a review of the scheme published last June, Westminster City Council said it had received 5,070 complaints relating to street buskers from April 2021 to May 2023 – far above the 2,200 yearly average – with over half of those relating to noise.
In a statement, Cllr. Aicha Less notes that the council wants to “strike a balance between supporting performers and addressing the issues of excessive noise, overcrowding, and inappropriate locations”.
“The council’s licensing committee met on December 4 to discuss options to tweak the existing policy. A ban on busking has never been proposed and never will be.”
It isn’t enough for the performers. Kolofsky points out that only around five per cent of the complaints came from within Covent Garden. He leans in. “Our own Freedom of Information requests suggest that this number might be even lower,” he adds, with the confidence of a private eye. This, to the performers, seems vastly unfair – especially as the restrictions include no flames, knives or sharp objects, no generator-powered amplifiers or, more generally, no “nuisance”.
“We asked for details of which pitch within Covent Garden had been the cause of complaints,” he says. “Kerry Simpkin, who is head of licensing at the council, specifically cited the Royal Opera pitch as being the site of most local concern. But we know this cannot be true as that site has not existed as a performance pitch for close to five years. There are never any performances on that site.”
“Like losing an old family”
The group is very much a unified force. In appearance, they look like a rag-tag, Dickensian troupe. It’s deceptive and disarming when they do talk business, rattling off details of their decision-making processes and management structure. “We have already limited the use of fire, because it’s not worth it if something goes wrong. If all our props are banned, though, we’re not going to have an act left,” says Juma Kuba.
Performers like Kuba rely on accoutrements for their shows. His acrobatic act sees him in a skin-tight leotard, balancing atop a stack of cans, themselves precariously balanced on a step ladder. It’s eye-catching and noisy: during a demonstration he quickly garners a crowd. In person, though, he’s softly-spoken.
He used to work at the circus in Blackpool, he says. “When I moved onto the streets, I was like ah, this is life. This is where I belong.” His voice is almost a whisper. “Losing Covent Garden would be like losing an old family picture. Once it’s gone, there’s no getting it back.”
It’s certainly unique. Impromptu Covent Garden street performances were noted in Samuel Pepys’s diary in 1662. It wasn’t until the 1970s, though, that its reputation as somewhere for entertainment was cemented: in the face of Greater London Council (GLC) redevelopment plans, arts events sprung up on the site, eventually becoming the “pitches” that clowns and magicians now work on.
The performers are clearly awe-struck by the place. Chris Thomas – cigarette between fingers, espresso in hand – says he didn’t know if he was good enough. His act involves twirling within a “Cyr wheel”, twisting himself around the pavement. He’s the image of confidence now, but admits he “just fell into it”.
“Covent Garden is the best of the best though, and I didn’t know if I could do it,” he says, looking around the table at his comrades. It’s now his favourite place to work.
Altwarg feels the same. “Back when I was living in Paris, I had no money at all, and I used to clown on the streets to save up. Once I had money, the first thing I did was run to the patisserie and buy a big, cream cake. Back then, I couldn’t imagine that I could work here, right in the heart of it.”
Enduring public curiosity
All four say it’s addictive – and say that it’s important the public feel that. “A lot of people who would never have been to a theatre, they don’t feel it’s something they’re interested in,” says Altwarg. “But there’s a lot of curiosity – they want to see what this guy with a bed of nails is doing. They’re enjoying something they never anticipated they would enjoy.”
Kuba agrees, saying that their shows are, by definition, extremely accessible. They ask the public to give money at the end of their act, but say there’s no pressure on those that can’t pay. “After the pandemic, people brought camping chairs to see us,” he says, delighted by the commitment.
Their love of performing – and of performing in Covent Garden in particular – means the behaviour of the council is interpreted as a personal affront. “It’s misdirection,” says Altwarg, in the parlance of their acts. “It is!” says Kolofsky. In fact, he says, the licence system in Leicester Square has meant the noise levels have risen there.
“Performers there think they’re playing Wembley Stadium. The council could do something about it, but they don’t.” It’s this that makes the CGSPA feel as if they are being targeted – something the council denies.
Kuba says they don’t want to emulate Leicester Square. An ideal outcome would be one that allows the CGSPA to continue their system of self-support. “We do a benefit when a performer has a problem and can’t work; we encourage acts from overseas to come over and we learn from each other. This wouldn’t be possible with the licensing system – we already say everyone has to have insurance, but groups from abroad won’t bother applying for a licence if they are only here for a month.”
Kolofsky’s outlook is darker. “If Westminster Council were successful, the result would be the death of Covent Garden street theatre. If that comes to pass then we would have to look at initiating legal proceedings and continuing our fight through the judicial system.”
If not noise complaints, what, then, do the CGSPA think the true problem is? Kolofsky has his suspicions. “It’s all politics,” he says enigmatically, before heading out into the snow. He gets into costume: defiantly baring his chest, and his knives, to the snow-covered cobbles.
Altwarg watches on. “You know, councils are always going on about placemaking,” he says. “You can’t do ‘placemaking’ from the top down. It’s the grassroots, it’s the performers that make the atmosphere… this is the real thing.”
