About this time last year, I was walking across the Eye of York at lunchtime when I heard mediaeval music.

Following the sound, I found York Waits performing on Tudor instruments in the Elizabethan Village next to Rose Theatre.

A few days later, wandering through Coppergate Centre I heard the unmistakable tune of the mediaeval song “Summer is i-cumen in”.

It was being performed by a local soprano in Tudor costume outside St Mary’s Church accompanied solely by a cello. 

Throughout the summer, as long as the Shakespearean pop-up theatre was in Castle car park, I made a point of checking who was due to perform on its wagon stage before deciding where I would take my lunch break.

I intend to do the same this year. 

When it comes to outdoor music, York is home to some of the very best. 

But it can also attract the less than good and the positively unwelcome.  This Spring, I heard a busker standing in Parliament Street singing Italian arias. 

I wasn’t in Parliament Street.  I was in the garden of Merchant Adventurers Hall at the time, but I could hear his amplified voice so clearly above the noise of the traffic in Piccadilly I could distinguish words. 

That is too loud. 

Shoppers in Parliament Street couldn’t escape from it, whether or not they liked Italian arias. 

Goodness only knows what it was like for the poor shop assistants working in the nearby shops who had to put up with the music all day. 

It was not and is not an isolated case.  Too many buskers seem to think that they have to be as loud as their electronic equipment will allow to attract the most customers. 

But in reality, what attracts people is not noise but music. 

If you sing or play well, people will stop to listen, others in the distance will wonder why they are standing around and come and find out. 

If you sing or play badly, people won’t stop to listen and if very bad, they will retreat to the other end of Parliament Street to get away from you. 

You don’t need to broadcast to the whole city centre to draw a crowd.  You don’t even need amplification. 

A few days ago, I was walking through the Swinegate Quartier when I heard a soft whisper of distant music. 

Turning the corner into Petergate, I saw a harmonica player working his way through a medley of popular songs, totally unamplified, but perfectly audible within a reasonable distance. 

It was slightly raining at the time, but he was sticking to his task and it was a pleasure to listen to him. 

Then there are the “karaoke” buskers. 

I appreciate that it takes courage to start performing entirely on your own in public and an unaccompanied singer, or indeed, the majority of instruments unaccompanied, can sound thin unless they are playing Bach’s unaccompanied sonatas. 

But whenever I see a busker with pre-recorded backing, I always wonder how much of the performance is actually theirs. 

Are they really singing or playing – or are they just miming?

The more perfect the performance, the more I wonder. 

I find myself watching them carefully to see if I can catch them out.  If they are singing, I watch their breathing and listen for them taking a breath, if playing, I check to see whether the movement of their fingers match the music I hear. 

I’m not concentrating on their performance.  I’m listening for the slip up, the slightly late entry or the fumbled high note that will reassure me I am listening to real live music. 

They certainly won’t get any of my money unless I am 100 per cent sure they are genuine. 

How does one become a busker in York city centre? 

Can anyone just roll up and start entertaining the crowds? 

Or is there some kind of audition, to make sure that some kind of standard is maintained and that we really are getting a genuine performance. 

We can’t have the tourists and shoppers on whom our economy depends scared away by substandard buskers. 

And please, can we have some kind of control over their noise level?