I have experienced a few Open Mike Nights in my time, some silly and whimsical, others somber and heavy. From rock ballads in the belly of a cafe all the way to tap dancing in an abandoned building, the venues and performances have varied but the art has always remained true.
Until tonight.
Tonight I ventured out to a location that was new to me; the primary purpose of my adventure was to show support to a very talented friend of mine who is a regular at this venue. I'd heard many things about this place and was eager to experience some performances by local artists and maybe even read one of my own pieces. Sadly, this was not even close to how the evening played out.
The night's entertainments began with an embarrassing and sloppy rendition of Ani Difranco's Freak Show, awkwardly performed by the venue's M.C. It was sad, cliche and set the evening off on a sour note. The two acts to follow were both stand-up "comics" testing out some of their new material. I will just sum it up by saying that I wished I could have crawled under my seat on their behalf. One of the comics even thought he was being cute by asking an eight-year-old girl if she knew what a "boner" was and if she had ever heard of "morning wood", right in the middle of his set. The only truth and dark humor that seemed to resonate with the eerily silent crowd were the moments that the comics said their "jokes were bombing" and that they didn't get "one single laugh". All true.
Then came the third set, the young girl who got to hear all about "boners" and "morning wood". She was there to sing and play the guitar. Let me rephrase that. The two adults that the girl came with wanted her to sing and play the guitar. She played and she sang.....like an off-key zombie. It was a little scary.
Finally, it was my friend's turn to perform! He has been coming to this venue for a year and seemed to feel a sincere fondness for this place. The M.C. announces him, he goes up to the mike and.....people begin to talk. Loudly. All through both of his poems.
I can't express enough how disgusted I was by the blatant display of rudeness. The disrespect that was shown to my friend left me angry and smarting.
In addition to the desperate promoting of the other "artists", the M.C. continued to inform our group that they were hoping to raise more money so that the pitiful Zombie Girl could continue performing in other venues. Ick.
By this time, I am looking at the clock and counting the seconds until I can get the Hell out of there. Next on the docket was an angry stand-up comic whose jokes focused mainly on self-deprecation and poo. Not bad material in my opinion; I have always been a fan of potty humor. However, when the crickets continued to chirp for him and a young lady offered him a verbal life raft, he attacked her because she was the only one who understood his joke. Nice.
Following that lovely human being was another stand-up comic. (Are we seeing a pattern here?) His material flopped (Again, pattern, anyone?) so he decided to mix it up by talking about politics, because that always goes over well. This caused the group, both guests and employees, to seethe and crackle. One woman decided that this man's set was an appropriate time to have a quiet conversation with him that only the two of them could hear. Another lady, an employee, hollered that the comic's information was "inaccurate" while wielding a dangerous roll of frozen cookies. When the comic tried to calm her down by telling her that they shared the same opinion she snapped that she was "not on his side" and only wanted to make sure that he "had all the facts straight". Thanks for being a participant, Angry Cookie Lady.
Finally, the set finished and I was able to escape into the dark and welcoming night, never to return again. The only positive part of the entire evening was that I chose to not perform! In all honesty, that venue doesn't deserve me, or my friend. It was the most negative Open Mike I have ever experienced. It's not very often that an event can make a person question their life or career but tonight I questioned mine. While sitting there, watching each set with increasing horror, I actually felt ashamed to call myself a performer. Performance art is a tough thing and sadly, it only takes a few rotten ones to make the rest of us look bad. While driving away though, I remembered how much I love what I do for a living and that I am the only one who can make my reputation.
The most important lesson that I took away from this dreadful night? It is imperative that artists support each other! Tonight, I saw no trace of appreciation, respect or camaraderie from the performers. Each artist was there only to serve Number One. If this is a sign of times to come in the arts community, then we are in great trouble.
Having had this.....memorable experience, I will take extra great pleasure in returning to my regular Open Mike venue. Call me a softy, but I like it when we can get along and enjoy each person and their art. And maybe some jokes about poo.....
Until next time,
~Story Siren
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