Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Open Mic Night

I never went to an open-mic while living in California.  While there was a regular one down the street, it seemed too kitchy to show up with a ukulele and assortment of novelty songs.  But having received an invitation, and as I've been looking for fun, purpose, and friends in Italy -- I decided to go!

Part I:  Others
I greeted my friend on the street and met some people:
     "I just got a ukulele too!"
     "I play guitar, is that similar?"
     "I don't really play, but your ukulele looks cool!"
     "Is that the same as a mandolin?"
     "Here's my business card.  I hate boring classical and folk music, but sing my own rock songs with my guitarlele*!"
*The Yamaha guitarlele is a well-intentioned, whimsical cross between a ukulele and a guitar.  While fun to noodle on, they typically lack both the bass of a good guitar and the treble clarity of a good ukulele.  Fortunately most are lacking amplification, so players can usually just annoy others in the same immediate area.

Entering the bar, I bought a beer and settled in to be supportive.  Some of the folks were pretty decent.  I sipped some beer and enjoyed some Portuguese songs crooned by an older Italian gentleman as he strummed an inaudible guitar, accompanied indifferently by a too-loud electric bass and a cajon*.
*a box that one sits on and beats with hands and feet.

I imbibed more beer and endured a balding, rotund intellectual whisper his Italian poetry somewhere near a microphone, accompanied by the booming electric bass and excited cajon.

I guzzled more beer and listened to a very pretty Brazilian girl screech and teach herself to play guitar, all at once, all while being drowned out by the off-key electric bass and frenetic cajon.

As the guitarlele rocker commenced her lengthy set-up process, the bassist and drummer decided to take a well-earned smoke break.  And during her second, um, song...as I noticed that the rest of the patrons had also left for a smoke, I ran out of beer.

I thought to myself -- it's 11:30, I could probably drink another before biking home.  But as she continued into her third song, I realized that beer alone couldn't keep a supportive smile on my face.  I stepped out also.  My friend congratulated me on my endurance.

     "Usually I stay for one of her songs.  If she sings two, I go for a cigarette.  If she sings three, I switch to cannabis!"

Seriously -- playing an instrument that society devalues does not entitle you to not practice, not listen to yourself, or not to take a hint.  I'm sure that this applies to me as well, but...oh my lord...


Part II:  Me?
There was no formal host, sign-up sheet, or list of guidelines, but I'd let it be known that I wanted to play.  I figured that surviving the bass-less cacophony qualified me for sainthood, or at least a spot in line.  My dream came true around midnight.

As the bar keep kicked us "musicians" downstairs to the basement, I got asked to play!

You know how in some meetings, the organizer will say, "No laptops or cell phones, please!"  I wish I'd done the same:
     "Let me just do one by myself..."

But I didn't want to offend, and probably couldn't say it right in Italian anyhow, so I let it go.  This wa not smart.  As I began my first song, I had a terrible feeling that my playing was totally off.  All I could hear were wrong notes.  As this isn't surprising with ukulele players in general or me in particular, I was mortified, but I sort of expected it...  Here I was, in the room full of my future musician best-friends, and I was terrible!

I think I realized towards the end of my song that the notes I played had nothing to do with the notes that came out of the amp.  As I prepared a second song, I quizzically looked around the room and spotted a creative guy who'd plugged in what looked like a homemade, fretless, cigar-box, 3-string dulcimer.

     "What is that?" I asked, hoping he'd get the hint and stop.  I didn't even ask it as "What IS that!?"
     "I don't know, somebody handed it to me!"
     Ah.

I think he got the message, as my second song was only additionally butchered by bass and cajon!

I stayed for a bit after I finished, but as I received a goodnight text from my fiancĂ©e, I decided to call it a night.

WTF, open-mic night!