Losing My ‘Open Mic Night’ Virginity

Touched For the Very First Time

In the twilight of Salem, Massachusetts in a small bar in the center of town, the brown curls of an overtly weird haircut bounce up and down. As the man continues to speak, small beads of Chianti induced sweat glisten in the stage lights. He is the kooky-artistic-super-enthusiastic MC, and this…well this is is Open Mic Night.

Despite having played guitar for almost ten years, I’ve always stayed away from ‘Open Mic Night’ at any venue, at whatever costs. Part of the reason for this was because, of course, that I was nervous to do any sort of musical act in front of spectators that I did not know.

The other, and more prevalent reason was that the only open mic that I ever attended seemed more like a group therapy session than anything else. One by one, people walked on stage in front of an unreceptive crowd, discussed their problems and fears through some artistic medium, and then quietly sat back down. It was awkward.

Last night was different though. I was pleasantly surprised to find myself immersed in a communal setting. Of course, the usual suspects were there. The girl with the buzz cut reciting spoken word poetry. The goateed pudgy guy singing in an absurdly high voice. The emo Asian kid accompanied by a random trumpet player. Yes, the usual suspects were all there. But again, the experience was not awkward by any means.

It was, in fact, quite the opposite. Generally, I find bars to be cold social arenas. There is a lot of talking going on, but it is often between the small groups of people that have gone out together. I could be dead wrong, but the glory days of going out and meeting someone at a bar seem lost upon me and my fellow 20 somethings.

Last night however, people were encouraging, willing to converse, and appreciative of each other’s performances. I easily recruited a couple of bongo drummers to join me on my set. Chords and wires malfunctioned only to be quickly replaced by others’ gear. I don’t think it would be out of place to call the atmosphere a least a bit utopic.

When the kooky MC with the odd haircut called me onto the stage I was not prepared. I was still fumbling around with some wires much like a youngster does with bra snaps on his first go ‘round. When ready, I stood in front of the microphone for a second or two and said “Hi.” I could see faces in the darkened bar, and nobody really looked up. The set went well though. A couple of mistakes, but no big deal. Overall, it was an enjoyable experience and when it was over, I received a generous applause. Hooray.

After I had lost my “Open Mic Virginity” I didn’t feel overly accomplished or relieved or anything of that nature (much unlike when I lost my actual virginity.) That is not the point of this story. Rather it is that, every once in awhile, you find yourself immersed in a genuine community setting when you least expect it, with strangers that you probably will never see again. Consequently, I guess the moral of the story is that, perhaps, you should mix it up with strangers every once in awhile. They probably won’t kidnap/rape you, and you might just enjoy yourself.

In the twilight of Salem, Massachusetts in a small bar in the center of town, the brown curls of an overtly weird haircut bounce up and down. As the man continues to speak, small beads of Chianti induced sweat glisten in the stage lights. He is the kooky-artistic-super-enthusiastic MC, and this…well this is is Open Mic Night.

Despite having played guitar for almost ten years, I’ve always stayed away from ‘Open Mic Night’ at any venue, at whatever costs. Part of the reason for this was because, of course, that I was nervous to do any sort of musical act in front of spectators that I did not know.

The other, and more prevalent reason was that the only open mic that I ever attended seemed more like a group therapy session than anything else. One by one, people walked on stage in front of an unreceptive crowd, discussed their problems and fears through some artistic medium, and then quietly sat back down. It was awkward.

Last night was different though. I was pleasantly surprised to find myself immersed in a communal setting. Of course, the usual suspects were there. The girl with the buzz cut reciting spoken word poetry. The goateed pudgy guy singing in an absurdly high voice. The emo Asian kid accompanied by the random trumpet player. Yes, the usual suspects were all there. But again, the experience was not awkward by any means.

It was, in fact, quite the opposite. Generally, I find bars to be cold social arenas. There is a lot of talking going on, but it is often between the small groups of people that have gone out together. I could be dead wrong, but the glory days of going out and meeting someone at a bar seem lost upon me and my fellow 20 somethings.

Last night however, people were encouraging, willing to converse, and appreciative of each other’s performances. I easily recruited a couple of bongo drummers to join me on my set. Chords and wires malfunctioned only to be quickly replaced by others’ gear. I don’t think it would be out of place to call the atmosphere a least a bit utopic.

When the kooky MC with the odd haircut called me onto the stage I was not prepared. I was still fumbling around with some wires much like a youngster does with bra snaps on his first go ‘round. When ready, I stood in front of the microphone for a second or two and said “Hi.” I could see faces in the darkened bar, and nobody really looked up. The set went well though. A couple of mistakes, but no big deal. Overall, it was an enjoyable experience and when it was over, I received a generous applause. Hooray.

After I had lost my “Open Mic Virginity” I didn’t feel overly accomplished or relieved or anything of that nature (much unlike when I lost my actual virginity.) That is not the point of this story. Rather it is that, every once in awhile, you find yourself immersed in a genuine community setting when you least expect it, with strangers that you probably will never see again. Consequently, I guess the moral of the story is that, perhaps, you should mix it up with strangers every once in awhile. They probably won’t kidnap/rape you, and you might just enjoy yourself.

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