The Story of Very Open Mic night (VOM)

In 2004 my wife bought me a Seagull Guitar. I wanted to explain to her you don’t buy guitars for a guitar player, just like you don’t buy a man underwear (which she does for me also). It’s a very personal thing. But I didn’t complain, and it’s a good thing too because not only would I be wearing ancient underwear with holes in them, three years ago she she wouldn’t have also bought me a Telecaster (see Wishing Well for the significance of that).

The Seagull is a very beautiful sounding guitar, but its action is very wide and high. I wouldn’t have bought it for myself, but it strengthened my play big time. 

After a few months with it, I decided I had to play in front of people (at the time I was a bathroom player). I especially wanted to show off “Godwilling”, a song I wrote (written and recorded in the bathroom of course).  I thought its Irish theme was perfect for the King’s Head Pub… 

The Restaurant-Pub was started by a Brit, Sam Summerscales, and he had a Sunday Open Mic night going for quite some time. It was a very loose format, you just signed a list on the back of a paper dinner mat and waited for the host to call you.

When I showed up at 6:30 PM to check it out again to gain some courage, nobody was there. Well, three people were there,  two were drunks playing darts, and the other was a young lady asking the bartender where the list was to perform. Leigh the bartender said it was canceled because the host once again flaked out. He said, “unless you want to host it.” As I stood stunned, the lady interjected and said she would host (to my relief), and Leigh got out the sound system and set it up for her.

She was really really good.  I talked to her during a short break she said she was just visiting friends in town. I remember getting a CD from her. She was Misty Odel, I still have her CD.

I never talked to her again since that night, and hopefully, she has forgotten me completely and here’s why…I stayed at the bar and drank a Guinness, or two, or three, getting along real well with Leigh the bartender and enjoying the music. A few more people came in, but not a lot.  After a few hours, Misty talked me into playing a song with her guitar.  I recall stumbling up the stage. Then, I acquired a severe, miserable, horrifying case of stage fright. I mumbled and moaned through “Godwilling”, cause I couldn’t remember any of the lyrics.  I barely remembered the title. I was lucky I remember some of the chords.  

I violated a rule I knew well during any public speaking event: practice!  As Mark Twain said:

 ‘It usually takes me more than three weeks to prepare a good impromptu speech.’ 

At my first technical conference 15 years earlier, I had bombed in a similar fashion, and kept my promise never, never to under prepare again.  

But singing your own song is different right?  Wrong. I had just wrote it. And yes, drinking only makes things worse. 

I got out of there as quick as possible in utter red-faced embarrassment and went home (just a few blocks away) and vomited.

That’s reason one for the Very Open Mic name, (as in “go on, take a chance, go out there and “VOM” it).

Reason number two: the idea behind the Very Open Mic concept
started after I had to visit other open mics at coffee shops.  I was too embarrassed to show my face at King’s Head for awhile. I soon got over my stage fright thanks to the many people that created a listening and encouraging environment. The only distracting noise would be the espresso machines going off.  They were acoustic only (nothing electric), and originals were encouraged (one reason is the crazy licensing fees a hosting establishment is asked to pay when hosting live music).

So after a few months  I came back to King’s Head one Sunday night to try it again, and as before, the Open Mic was lacking a host.  The new owner (who gave Sam an offer he couldn’t refuse) was there and I told him I’d host it.  Somehow I figured stage fright would be less of an issue for me if I was the host.  

So it began. The “Very” part simply meant non-acoustic was allowed, in fact anything was allowed.  Otherwise, it ran with the discipline I learned at the coffee open mics.  

It was not meant to be a non-listening environment, it was a pub after all. However like the coffee open mics the host was always there to adjust sound, to wink and smile, make the performer as comfortable as possible.

It too was meant to be original music primarily, or other peoples music done new ways, not jams, but collaborations yes. People were encouraged to get to know others material in the outside patio before backing them up.  It worked.

A sound system was provided, the stage had ample room.  A drummer was encouraged to bring his kit and allow others to play during the night (in exchange for drinks of course).  The one thing I did differently that mattered however, was that I advertised it, flyers and postings wherever I could.  Craigslist was my friend.  At the end of the first night we actually had a large crowd, which was very sad when they learned the place needed to close at 11:30PM.  Kings’s Head had an agreement with the City on Sundays they would close early.  Leaving a crowd and performers wanting is what I call success. As I packed up and was set to go home, Leigh gave me 40 bucks…I laughed, “I thought my pay was a bunch of beers”.  I had so much fun I would have paid 40.

 Lou, Mark and Eric (one of the many improv bands - VOM style):

In the pic right to left is Lou Pinheiro, Mark Scavuzzo and Eric Marston. Lou can be found playing at local farmers markets here in the bay area (including Campbell’s on Sunday afternoons), he has a heck of a good repertoire. Mark (probably my most favorite drummer that I ever played with) and Eric later teamed up with Rick Santos and Pharaoh Alberts to create a band (which started right on that stage) called Longliner (the first album is still one of my favs).

We got a write-up in the local paper:

It was a lot of work however, and King’s Head was not known for its air conditioning.  I sweated bullets:

Its success for me, became a downfall.  All those late Sunday nights were too much.  It was eating into my career,  and the court cases involving full-screen devices were just beginning (see ButFor).  I handed over the host duties to many people, and then finally got into a fight with the owner because of the way he told my wife she couldn’t sit in a chair (he had saved for it for a girlfriend). I told him to eff off and I’d never come to his "stinking” place again. I never did (until he sold the place that is, which wasn’t too long after).  In the meantime, two other pubs were brewing for a Very Open Mic, but that’s one of many more Very Open Mic stories to be told…