So my buddy Julian and I decided to check out two open mic nights in Tower/Downtown Fresno last night. The first one we were psyched about. It was in a coffee shop (Javawava) across the street from Fresno High and we assumed it was very teenager friendly.
Unfortunately, when we arrived at the coffee shop at around 6:30, we saw that it was closed for renovations. We assumed it was to prepare for the upcoming school year. I proposed we waited in the Tower District until the second open mic started. The down side was that it wasn't starting for nearly three hours.
I parked behind the Sequoia Brewing Co. and we heard a band playing inside and wanted to check it out. When we walked in, we asked if we could just listen to the band and the girl behind the counter said it was fine and that we could sit where we wanted. But after about a half hour, an older woman came up to us and said, "This is a restaurant, you have to order something to be here..." I don't know if you can read the rudeness in her voice, but we certainly heard it. We ordered drinks to be polite, but we didn't really see what the big deal was, the place was half empty and we would have kindly given up our seats if paying patrons were to come.
When we got bored, we moved on to the Starbucks across the street and just sat in there for a little while. When I got hungry we moved a little further down the street to get nachos at the Bobby Salazar's. When we walked in I went to order food and Julian sat down and watched the evening's DJ setup. After I got the food, Julian was singing along to the song that the DJ was playing and more people were coming and some workers were creating a dance floor. I think Julian wanted to stay and dance, but when I told him it was "Fresno Queer" night he had no issue with us eating the food in my car outside of Starline.
After eating, we still had almost an hour before the open mic started. I pulled out my guitar and we warmed up and contemplated what we would do (we prepared four songs in hopes of doing two open mics in one night) and decided to do Coldplay's Viva La Vida and Aha's Take On Me.
When the doors opened, we hopped first in line and waited for the guy behind the counter to open the register. He asked us our age and we told him we were 19 and he said, "ten bucks." We weren't ready for that. I thought it was two dollars per act, but we found out it was two dollars per person if they were over 21 and minors had to pay 5 because they don't expect minor to buy a $7 drink. I only had three.
We felt pretty beaten and start to turn around and one of the guys behind us asked us why we looked so down and we told him our predicament. He told us that he was the bass player of the house band and he could let us let us in for four. A lady who had heard all of our craziness gave us a dollar and we were in!
We signed up for a 9:45 slot and sat around until our ten minutes of obscurity began. The house band was good, but the room was loud. I had to put my ear plugs (that I carry with me everywhere, yes I'm crazy, I know) in out of hear of damaging my ears further than they already are.
Julian and I were the first group up and we plugged in my keyboard and then my guitar and Julian grabbed a stool and we kicked off Viva La Vida. The mix on the stage was weird and the floor monitors didn't help me much because there were hardly any vocals coming out of them. Call me a diva, but I need to hear my (and my co-singer's) voice(s). I'm a confident guitar player and know what I'm playing, I didn't need to hear it behind me and in front of me, but oh well.
The audience gave us a big applause, which made me happy. Then we kicked into our ballad version of Take On Me ad when the other performers realized what it was they made cheering noises again. I had a hard time doing my harmony to the chorus, but that was only because of the lack of hearing myself to be able to correct if I was a bit off. I was probably on, but the fact that I could hear if I was or wasn't made me timid about it. I guess these open mic places don't expect these kids to do harmonies. I don't know.
After we were done, we started to take stuff back to my car but were interrupted by a drunk Paraguayan (he was Paragayan because he told us, he was drunk because I could smell it on him...) who wanted to tell us about his homeland in comparison to America. I told him we had to go (shooting myself in the foot for going back and hearing other acts in the process) to end the barely comprehendible conversation.
So Julian and I sped off back to Clovis, calling it a night.
Quote of the evening:
*Sitting in the back of Kyle's dad's car*
Kyle: I have to pee.
Julian: Well it is downtown Fresno... Just find a corner that already smells like piss and go (Italicized words are a Kyle interpretation of what would have been said next).
In conclusion:
Will I do it again? Maybe. Will I bring a medium sized group of friends next time. Yes.
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kyle lowe. his thoughts, his internal conflict, his brain.
