The members of the Poodles, a female country music group, were playing along Brattle St. recently when they were overwhelmed by the amplified sounds of a neighboring street musician. "It was like playing in a three-ring circus," says group member Ruth Rappaport.

The Poodles quit early that night.

Getting drowned out by music and noise of the many occupational hazards that street performers endure. They must contend with bored audiences, policemen checking permits, weather turning foul, malfunctioning amplifiers and popping strings.

Despite the uncertainties, hundreds of street performers from all over the world gravitate toward Harvard Square during the summer months to play music, juggle fire or do a little magic. "It's so great to sit here, and out of the corner of my eye see someone smile," says Carol Hetrick, who plays violin along Brattle St. to supplement her income as an administrator at the Longy School of Music. "It makes it all worthwhile."

Most performers are on the street to earn their living by collecting contributions. Despite working as a lifeguard three times a week at the Central Square YMCA, Kevin McNamara makes most of his money by playing his guitar, harmonica, and mandolin, shaking his maracas, and stomping on his tambourine in front of hundreds of delighted strangers. How well does he do? "It's very therapeutic," McNamara says. "We save a lot on shrinks."

"We're socialized to think we're not leading meaningful lives if we don't get a regular paycheck," says Eric Kilburn, who is now in Nicaragua as a member of Arts for a New Nicaragua, a Brookline-based group dedicated to cultural exchange. "We don't just live like Bohemians, living under a bridge."

Others may come to the Square to practice in front of an audience, to publicize a future gig, or just for fun. A recent graduate of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Ed Bernstein likes to beat his conga drum along Brattle St. After finishing work at Digital Equipment Corporation. Bernstein starts searching around Paperback Booksmith for other musicians to join him.

Though many make needed money from their music, most say that the amount they make has little to do with how well they feel they have been accepted. "I'll come home and there you have a pile of money in your case. It doesn't click," says Luke Hunsberger. "It's hard to connect the money with people's appreciation."

"To be a successful performer, you have to detach yourself from the money," says Kilburn. Others disagree, though, like Mike Babinchak, who says that "there's a direct correlation between how well you play and how much you make."

Throughout Harvard Square, street musicians make that money from contributions. But in an attempt to make the area more attractive, the Charles Square Hotel pays musicians to play in its courtyard.

To perform on Cambridge property, a performer must obtain a $5 permit from the Traffic and Parking Department. According to Traffic Investigator George Hewitt, the permit allows performances only on the raised area in front of Paperback Booksmith and Grendel's, "unless you have the permission of the store and you don't obstruct" the sidewalk. Many performers do not have permits, most do not play in legal areas, and no one plays in front of Grendel's.

"We wait for complaints, then we move," says Lieutenant Thomas Benson of the Cambridge Police. "The street officers use their discretion." New regulations will be considered at the August 5 City Council meeting, according to Deputy City Manager Richard Rossi.

Many performers, however, complain that the enforcement of the current rules by the police is arbitrary. "I have found the Cambridge police to be unworkable," says Hunsberger, who no longer plays his guitar on Cambridge streets. "It's up to the police to enforce the rules and it depends how they feel that day. I don't want to be under their whim."

Instead, Hunsberger, McNamara, and others have applied for permits from Harvard Real Estate to play at Holyoke Center, which is owned by the University. The permits are free and, in general, allow a musician to play for four to six hours. Some requests for the summer are made as early as February, and the entire summer calendar is usually filled by June.

The manager of Au Bon Pain, Douglas Parker, has the right, along with Harvard, to cancel or deny a permit. Citing local gadfly Logan Evans and his trivia game exploits as something he would object to, Parker says simply, "He annoys people."