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Generally speaking, I don't do open mikes. For an example of the hiccups that occur, see my other post below, "The Never-Ending Open Mike (Two Surreal Case Studies)." I'm not saying the problems that I cited happen all the time, or my experiences have always been subpar. The situations I encountered simply hardened my resolve to find better outlets for my music and spoken word material. After all, it's hard to showcase your abilities when the showcase itself goes sideways.
Lately, though, I've seen some odd terms and conditions popping up, when I've wanted to participate. Imagine the Riddler posing one of his preposterous jokes, wagging his finger at Batman's campy '60s incarnation, or the darker ones currently making the cinematic rounds: "Riddle me this, Caped Crusader. When is an open mike not so open anymore?" To which Batman strokes that famous rugged jaw, furrows an eyebrow or two, then snaps his fingers, and responds with the following three examples.
Exhibit A: Sounds Good (But We Gotta Vet Ya First): Back in the summer, I'd recorded three songs at home, and thought. Hey, why don't I try these out? Can't do any harm, right? That's the most common reason for doing open mikes, right? Road-test your new material in front of a real crowd, keep your chops up, that sort of thing. In this case, you had to e-mail the venue in question ahead of time, which I did. Here's the response I got back:
Thanks for your message regarding open mic.
Please send along a sample clip of what your performance would be - either video or audio. Thank you.
I found this response baffling, since it begs one obvious question: well, if you're just gonna cherry pick who you want onstage, anyway, it's not really an open mike anymore, is it? Then it becomes something else, but not an occasion that fits the alleged purpose of open mikes: a place where all comers can play whatever they want, while getting a chance to meet, and swap phone numbers and/or ideas afterwards.
Needless to say, I didn't send a thing.
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Exhibit B: You Gotta Pay (If You Wanna Play): The same venue cited above (we'll call it Cardboard City) also runs a poetry/spoken open mike, which I've done three times. I was looking forward to the same opportunity again this week, until this sentence from the press release stopped me dead: "$5 minimum donation please. Donations support our non-profit arts organization." It's not clear to me whether this policy applies to everybody, or just those watching the performers, but on its face, this sentence skirts the edges of paying to play.
Pay to play is most commonly associated with sports leagues and music venues. The term refers to the practice of requiring an upfront fee before the performer can take the field or the stage. Musicians first encountered pay to play in the 1980s, at venues in Los Angeles, CA. (Typical variations involve buying X number of tickets in advance, or guaranteeing that "X number of people will show up.") Pay to play is less controversial in the sports world, especially in local leagues, where few, if any parents will quibble about the price of signing up Little Johnny and Suzy for soccer.
I'll have to investigate how Cardboard City applies its donation policy, but my only issue is the connotations it carries for performers, who already face enough barriers to entry -- and doing our "thing," whatever that means -- without our wallets getting thrown into the mix.
Exhibit C: Shut Up And Sing (Just Don't Annoy The Regular Folks). I came across this example while preparing an entertainment calendar for one of the publications that uses my writing. The verbiage reminded me of the Dixie Chicks documentary, Shut Up And Sing (2003), which chronicled the outcry that greeted the band for its relatively mild denunciation of then-President George W. Bush. Given the ferocity of Trump's fanbase, imagine what would happen now, if a similar band declared itself "ashamed that the President is from New York"!
Anyway, here's the relevant language from this venue (we'll call it The Stable), in all its one size fits, opaque glory:
Please be respectful with your material. While we want to be open with our stage and invite all forms of art, it cannot be at the expense of others. This is not a night for improvisation or a political platform, but a chance for all to enhance their crafted art skills. Thank you.
I have a few issues here, starting with the obvious: What does "respectful" mean, and who gets to define it? Presumably the host, though it's not exactly clear. Judging from the next sentence, it's fair to say that any Dixie Chick-style verbiage is verboten, and you'd probably check your improv comedy styles at the door, too. After all, we wouldn't want anybody riffing off Trump's latest pipe dreams, or Phil Ochs's "Love Me, I'm A Liberal," would we, now?
I'm not sure what kind of open mike is being promoted here, unless it's the Comfy Cozy Coffee Set. Considering how dark, dangerous and desperate our times have grown -- and not only politically, as the California wildfires are demonstrating this weekend -- it's a little bit much to insist that musicians, in particular, just stare straight ahead and keep their mouths shut. Sorry, but if all we've done is just stay in a bubble, and simply talk shop, then not much has happened.
One quality that these examples share is the apparent lack of trust underpinning all of them. What's really strange is that open mikes aren't paying gigs (except for the host), so if there's no money -- no guarantee, no tip jar -- changing hands, what's the problem? It's not as if I've seen anyone at either venue counting off the MC5's signature song: "And right now, it's time to...kick out the jams, motherfuckers!"
Happily for me, I'm not going to deal with the fallout from these practices. I've been asked to perform at a church dinner with someone else a couple Saturdays from now. Aside from one suggested song ("This Land Is Your Land"), our minister is letting me work out the rest -- as it should be, since I've played there before. No advance clip, no minimum donation, and no admonition against airing inconvenient opinions needed. Maybe I'll check back and see how the above venues evolve -- or don't -- but I'm doing what makes me happier. Which means staying off the Open Mike Highway, at least for now--The Reckoner
Links To Go (Hurry, Hurry,
Before The Sandman Gives You The Hook):
The Never-Ending Open Mike (Two Surreal Case Studies):
Showtime At The Apollo: Sandman Fight:
Gigs And Bands (UK): Five Reasons Why
Open Mic Nights Are Killing Live Music:
(Plenty of food for thought here -- written to irritate, so bear that in mind, but lots of interesting pros and cons in the comment section, so have fun!)
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