Last Tuesday I went to this open mic/networking event thing. My friend Lori had forwarded me an email about it several weeks before, and I was supposed to contact the woman who runs it to get into the lineup. I didn’t for a few reasons. One was that it was a Tuesday night and I wasn’t sure I wanted to commit. The other was that this woman’s email promoting the event was so poorly written, so horrifically disorganized, that I could barely figure out what this thing was, and was pretty turned off.
I end up emailing her maybe on Sunday or Monday, figuring I should work off of the momentum from the week before and just get to this thing. Well, when I heard back from her, the answer was, we’re all full up, you should have contacted me sooner (fair enough) but come anyway and maybe we can fit in a song.
So I revert back to I’ll-decide-at-the-last-minute. And I remain in that state until, I am not kidding, 9pm on Tuesday. And the thing started at 7:00. I mean, I am putting on makeup and still thinking I should really stay home.
Before I even get inside, Lori and her boyfriend Peter (it is through Peter that I met Lori) were outside, so I was already glad I came. Peter and Lori were the hosts of an awesome party I went to many months back; they are very good folks. I was particularly excited to have them hear me; neither ever has, and Pete is a working musician whose respect has been desirable but elusive at best (’cause of how he’s never heard me).
Turned out someone dropped their spot so I would be able to play at around 10:30, which was fine.
The event itself was uneven and amateurish, with bursty surprises of excellence.
Well, 10:30 came and went, and there were still a few acts before it would be my turn, and I decided I was going to bail. I didn’t want to get home too late. But again, indecisive girl got convinced to hang in there.
So now I go up there. I am the last act. A couple of djembe players asked if they could accompany me, and I was cool with that; they knew what they were doing. I plug my cable in, and Pete is helping set me up, and my guitar keeps going in and out. Sound. No sound.
Sound. No sound.
Peter is trying to figure it out, but can’t. The sound system has been crappy all night, and the women running the event are not helping (Peter knows sound way better than they do anyway) and it’s just getting ridiculous.
Because no the vocal mike too. Sound. No sound.
And at that point it is apparent that it is nothing I can fix; it’s not my guitar or my cable.
So I step off of the stage onto the floor, grabbing a chair from behind me as I go. And I tell everyone in the room to shut up. I tell them I’m playing and that I don’t have sound and that please, I need everyone’s attention.
I played two songs. I started in the chair, I suppose to create the sense of intimacy that would help bring everyone’s energy to me, but that was annoying so I stood up a few chords in. I did one cover song (an Elvis Costello that was particularly fun for the drummers) and one original.
I kicked ass pretty thoroughly. I owned the room, and I performed impeccably. Everyone was knocked out, Lori and Peter especially. Peter, for all his experience, has a bit of a fear of performing solo/acoustic, and definitely admired how I handled the situation.
I am enjoying that I can be counted on more and more to show up full-strength.
