Can they still call it that?
The first thing I noticed when I walked into the Safari Cup open mic was that there was no mic. I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a Hummer H3 SUV because Jim, the host, came over and welcomed me in. I emailed him that morning asking about the venue, and he'd saved me a spot on the list. That was, in retrospect, pretty typical of the Safari Cup experience.
There's a lot to like about this open mic, and it begins with the absence of a mic. Having paid my dues at many a pub (Bird's Nest) and packed-to-the-gills coffee house (Kafein, Uncommon Ground), the chance to really connect with the audience and see how my songs do on a fair playing field — i.e. not competing for attention with a violent break of a billiards match, Rob Thomas and Santana on the juke box in the next room, or a hive of overstimulated social butterflies — is a welcome change. Nowadays, it's actually what I consider ideal; I think back to all the performing situations I've been in, and the ones where there's no mic (or stage) to insulate the artist's and audience's spaces from each other have been the most fun, be it someone's living room, the basement at Old Town School, or Yosemite.
While public rehearsal can be good for its own sake, the opportunity to connect with an audience is really the #1 ROI differentiator for an open mic. In Safari Cup's case, the folks I've met have been extremely gracious and have listened and interacted with literally every performer that I've seen come through, even the one who was probably looking for the pub next door, and another unforgettable patron who had an unhealthy scatological obsession that was coupled with an equally unfortunate outlet in song (yes, he handed out CDs when he was done). Getting to hear Andi C's R&B-over-acoustic-guitar covers is a treat, too; NWA and Beyonce never sounded so sweet.
I definitely plan to be back to Safari Cup. Until then, here's the story-behind-the-story of Terminal Love, as performed at Safari Cup on 27 January, 2010. Since there's no mic, you will notice that I pro-rated my 'facing the audience' time in any given radial direction based on how many people were sitting there. That night, they were mostly to my right... except for Nate M. (who was outstanding by the way), who was to my left for all but the briefest of moments.
P.S. This blog post was made possible by HandBrake and mp4box. Who knew a digicam that small could generate a file that large!
There's a lot to like about this open mic, and it begins with the absence of a mic. Having paid my dues at many a pub (Bird's Nest) and packed-to-the-gills coffee house (Kafein, Uncommon Ground), the chance to really connect with the audience and see how my songs do on a fair playing field — i.e. not competing for attention with a violent break of a billiards match, Rob Thomas and Santana on the juke box in the next room, or a hive of overstimulated social butterflies — is a welcome change. Nowadays, it's actually what I consider ideal; I think back to all the performing situations I've been in, and the ones where there's no mic (or stage) to insulate the artist's and audience's spaces from each other have been the most fun, be it someone's living room, the basement at Old Town School, or Yosemite.
While public rehearsal can be good for its own sake, the opportunity to connect with an audience is really the #1 ROI differentiator for an open mic. In Safari Cup's case, the folks I've met have been extremely gracious and have listened and interacted with literally every performer that I've seen come through, even the one who was probably looking for the pub next door, and another unforgettable patron who had an unhealthy scatological obsession that was coupled with an equally unfortunate outlet in song (yes, he handed out CDs when he was done). Getting to hear Andi C's R&B-over-acoustic-guitar covers is a treat, too; NWA and Beyonce never sounded so sweet.
I definitely plan to be back to Safari Cup. Until then, here's the story-behind-the-story of Terminal Love, as performed at Safari Cup on 27 January, 2010. Since there's no mic, you will notice that I pro-rated my 'facing the audience' time in any given radial direction based on how many people were sitting there. That night, they were mostly to my right... except for Nate M. (who was outstanding by the way), who was to my left for all but the briefest of moments.
P.S. This blog post was made possible by HandBrake and mp4box. Who knew a digicam that small could generate a file that large!
