I went to my first open mic in 18 months
Such a long time since I last performed
I wasn’t nervous but I have been rusty
Those weekly hotel happy hours (all gone now)
Had kept me in shape, musically speaking
But open mics are returning, slowly
I drove across a major bridge for this one
Arrived on time, fourth to sign up
Except the method for the line up
Was neither time slot nor ordered list
Instead, bizarrely, all names were tossed into a jar
Selected randomly, a few at a time
So you never knew when you might be up
One thing about performing is when
You have yet to do it
It’s not as easy to relax as it is when
You have done it
Better still if it is over and *also* went well
But over, generally, is what you are aiming for
If you want to relax
I kept not getting called
It was not only not over
I didn’t even have an idea of when it was going to be over
However here I was finally seeing strangers up on stage
Sharing a table with people I did not know
In this case two friendly 23-year-olds
Who attend weekly as listeners only
They were giggly and funny and said
“We like the old man energy”
(In fact, it was mostly older men, and
Apart from two women in group acts,
Eventually I would end up being the only
Female-appearing, female-voiced person
As well incidentally the only ukulele)
But that was later, after I watched
Many performers come and go
I was having a good time
A lovely venue it was, excellent sound
Affordable drinks and friendly, quirky folk
For instance, a gentle large grey-haired Elvis got up there
In full white Elvis jumpsuit, rhinestones and all
With his mask pulled down, he sang his heart out
He sang over the recordings, instead of tracks-only version
The voice of our Elvis not quite drowning out the King
Our Elvis also sang My Way, and he really did do it his way
Enthusiastic, committed, special, weird, charming
All the regulars loved it, the girls at my table
Hoot and holler and tell me
“Elvis is a staple. He’s the best”
The host even bumps him to the front of the line
So Elvis can catch the bus home
But for me, there’s no home in sight
I don’t even make it on before the featured band
Who take the stage and crank up their rocking covers
The noise level rises
The place is packed
It’s a merry time in a bustling bar
Part of me rejoices to be in such a place
(Thinking of the times I said
“What I wouldn’t give for even a shitty open mic”
When not a one was to be had)
Part of me is wearing down
In fact, the majority of me has sunk beneath
The drink and meal and the unknowing and the waiting
It’s one thing to know you are last
It’s another to wait for it all night
The band is done, the crowd thins
I’m not next nor next, until few are left
My two faithful new friends have sworn to stay to the end
(Mostly to watch the trainwreck set of the “egdy” bad comic
Whose inappropriate set, they say, is traditionally the closer
At this supposedly all-ages show)
I am finally up next
I am also dead last
(Except for the comic and a real latecomer)
Almost no audience is left
And as I tune up in the back
I feel like crying
I’m not sure why
Sadness, the moment reminding me of all I’ve missed?
Disappointment, watching the room empty out?
Frustration, all the names called when I was there fourth?
Exhaustion, the energy drain of waiting to be next for three hours?
What do I do, suddenly verklempt and on next?
The show must you know what so I rally myself
I march onstage
The host apologizes personally as I plug in
And then publicly acknowledges me as having patiently waited
So the audience left cheers like mad
My two girls scream my name like we’ve known each other for years
And as I look out into the blackness
(For well-lit stages are blinding, airbrushing away any audience)
I feel immediately much better
The host gives me a new mic condom, which I use
I introduce myself, as well as my first song
“The Tom Hiddleston Blues”
The lone Loki fan reveals himself with a whoop
But I end up vamping, having suddenly blanked on the opening line
Eventually I stop, explain I forgot the lyrics, and play my other song
(Which I can play without thinking)
And during which I think about the Tom Hiddleston Blues
And finally remember the line, then sing the song
I feel increasingly better to the point of incredible
(Ah! the welcome tightrope stimulation of performing
Having to be aware of and do multiple things at once
In front of a roomful of people all watching you)
I nail both songs
The sound system is great but so am I
I don’t blow a lyric, a chord, a strum, nothing
My pitch is spot on
The room is silent, listening, locked in
It’s like I never left and OH MY GOD did I ever miss this
I realize as I’m up there that I missed it so much
I kind of can’t even handle it
I’m casually singing but I’m swirling with relief inside
It took me decades to even admit
I wanted to be a singer, a songwriter, musician
Another decade to do it
Then a few years of open mics and happy hours
Until poof! Gone!
I never pretended nonchalance regarding the shuttered venues
I ached for it all awfully and I said so
But standing there, finally returned to the sacred stage
I saw I held back most of the missing it
For it would have been too awful to feel it all
Yes, I missed offering my little songs to the world
But mostly I missed all the strangers
I used to encounter and love
In all sorts of places
Even if briefly (often briefly)
The people I sang in a circle with
The people I waltzed with
The people I danced ecstatically with
The people I improv-ed with
The people I did wild crazy things with
At festivals and fairs and workshops and shows
So many single-serving friends, ships in the night
So many faces familiar from years of acquaintanceship
Members of the same tribe, names known or not
Connection, sweet connection, the thing we’ve all missed
But while some people do it with co-workers mostly, or family
My love avenues have been heavily populated with strangers
I see now that somehow the people I didn’t know
Were the ones that I missed the most
I got offstage to wild applause
And lots of kind words from quite a few kind people
I wanted to cry again
But this time I knew why
I remembered what this kind of happiness feels like
This special kind: the one that comes from
Feeling alive in a lively world
After a long, long time
Of not
(Also I’m glad to report, the very next day
To my own astonishment – for I have been sadly watching myself
Slog through an epically unprecedented stretch of writerly unproduction –
I finally spit out my first creative piece since Before Times:
This)
Such a long time since I last performed
I wasn’t nervous but I have been rusty
Those weekly hotel happy hours (all gone now)
Had kept me in shape, musically speaking
But open mics are returning, slowly
I drove across a major bridge for this one
Arrived on time, fourth to sign up
Except the method for the line up
Was neither time slot nor ordered list
Instead, bizarrely, all names were tossed into a jar
Selected randomly, a few at a time
So you never knew when you might be up
One thing about performing is when
You have yet to do it
It’s not as easy to relax as it is when
You have done it
Better still if it is over and *also* went well
But over, generally, is what you are aiming for
If you want to relax
I kept not getting called
It was not only not over
I didn’t even have an idea of when it was going to be over
However here I was finally seeing strangers up on stage
Sharing a table with people I did not know
In this case two friendly 23-year-olds
Who attend weekly as listeners only
They were giggly and funny and said
“We like the old man energy”
(In fact, it was mostly older men, and
Apart from two women in group acts,
Eventually I would end up being the only
Female-appearing, female-voiced person
As well incidentally the only ukulele)
But that was later, after I watched
Many performers come and go
I was having a good time
A lovely venue it was, excellent sound
Affordable drinks and friendly, quirky folk
For instance, a gentle large grey-haired Elvis got up there
In full white Elvis jumpsuit, rhinestones and all
With his mask pulled down, he sang his heart out
He sang over the recordings, instead of tracks-only version
The voice of our Elvis not quite drowning out the King
Our Elvis also sang My Way, and he really did do it his way
Enthusiastic, committed, special, weird, charming
All the regulars loved it, the girls at my table
Hoot and holler and tell me
“Elvis is a staple. He’s the best”
The host even bumps him to the front of the line
So Elvis can catch the bus home
But for me, there’s no home in sight
I don’t even make it on before the featured band
Who take the stage and crank up their rocking covers
The noise level rises
The place is packed
It’s a merry time in a bustling bar
Part of me rejoices to be in such a place
(Thinking of the times I said
“What I wouldn’t give for even a shitty open mic”
When not a one was to be had)
Part of me is wearing down
In fact, the majority of me has sunk beneath
The drink and meal and the unknowing and the waiting
It’s one thing to know you are last
It’s another to wait for it all night
The band is done, the crowd thins
I’m not next nor next, until few are left
My two faithful new friends have sworn to stay to the end
(Mostly to watch the trainwreck set of the “egdy” bad comic
Whose inappropriate set, they say, is traditionally the closer
At this supposedly all-ages show)
I am finally up next
I am also dead last
(Except for the comic and a real latecomer)
Almost no audience is left
And as I tune up in the back
I feel like crying
I’m not sure why
Sadness, the moment reminding me of all I’ve missed?
Disappointment, watching the room empty out?
Frustration, all the names called when I was there fourth?
Exhaustion, the energy drain of waiting to be next for three hours?
What do I do, suddenly verklempt and on next?
The show must you know what so I rally myself
I march onstage
The host apologizes personally as I plug in
And then publicly acknowledges me as having patiently waited
So the audience left cheers like mad
My two girls scream my name like we’ve known each other for years
And as I look out into the blackness
(For well-lit stages are blinding, airbrushing away any audience)
I feel immediately much better
The host gives me a new mic condom, which I use
I introduce myself, as well as my first song
“The Tom Hiddleston Blues”
The lone Loki fan reveals himself with a whoop
But I end up vamping, having suddenly blanked on the opening line
Eventually I stop, explain I forgot the lyrics, and play my other song
(Which I can play without thinking)
And during which I think about the Tom Hiddleston Blues
And finally remember the line, then sing the song
I feel increasingly better to the point of incredible
(Ah! the welcome tightrope stimulation of performing
Having to be aware of and do multiple things at once
In front of a roomful of people all watching you)
I nail both songs
The sound system is great but so am I
I don’t blow a lyric, a chord, a strum, nothing
My pitch is spot on
The room is silent, listening, locked in
It’s like I never left and OH MY GOD did I ever miss this
I realize as I’m up there that I missed it so much
I kind of can’t even handle it
I’m casually singing but I’m swirling with relief inside
It took me decades to even admit
I wanted to be a singer, a songwriter, musician
Another decade to do it
Then a few years of open mics and happy hours
Until poof! Gone!
I never pretended nonchalance regarding the shuttered venues
I ached for it all awfully and I said so
But standing there, finally returned to the sacred stage
I saw I held back most of the missing it
For it would have been too awful to feel it all
Yes, I missed offering my little songs to the world
But mostly I missed all the strangers
I used to encounter and love
In all sorts of places
Even if briefly (often briefly)
The people I sang in a circle with
The people I waltzed with
The people I danced ecstatically with
The people I improv-ed with
The people I did wild crazy things with
At festivals and fairs and workshops and shows
So many single-serving friends, ships in the night
So many faces familiar from years of acquaintanceship
Members of the same tribe, names known or not
Connection, sweet connection, the thing we’ve all missed
But while some people do it with co-workers mostly, or family
My love avenues have been heavily populated with strangers
I see now that somehow the people I didn’t know
Were the ones that I missed the most
I got offstage to wild applause
And lots of kind words from quite a few kind people
I wanted to cry again
But this time I knew why
I remembered what this kind of happiness feels like
This special kind: the one that comes from
Feeling alive in a lively world
After a long, long time
Of not
(Also I’m glad to report, the very next day
To my own astonishment – for I have been sadly watching myself
Slog through an epically unprecedented stretch of writerly unproduction –
I finally spit out my first creative piece since Before Times:
This)
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