Go big or go home, I guess.

I did my first open mic at Caffe Lena in Saratoga Springs, NY last night.  Pictures of Bob Dylan playing on the same stage in 1961 and 1962 and others of Arlo Guthrie.  It was the Saratoga Acoustic Blues Society's monthly open mic and I thought this would be a good crowd absent the electric gearheads and whatnot.

The host, Sonny Speed was just inducted into the New York Blues Hall of Fame and a local HOF inductee, Phil Drum was there to play as well.  There were about 10 players of all levels of ability playing acoustic blues guitar.  No slides or resonators and when I say all abilities, I mean from really freakin' good up to HOF spectacular.  There was a guy playing harp for several performers and for the jam session there was even a tuba!

In this, I stood apart.  I brought my Sawzall Box Resonator.  

"Ah, instead of a cigar box, we have a tool box.  What is that?"

"How heavy is that?'

I explained to the small crowd made up of the night's performers and some of their spouses that I was an open mic virgin.  And so I was going to be done real quick and it was likely going to be a mess.  And I held true to form.

I warmed up with a few sets of Blues in G just demoing the sound of the guitar flatpicking and with the slide.  Went OK and I wasn't thrown off the stage.  Several surprised compliments on the sound from the guitar.  Sweet!  Let's try singing.

I pulled out Uncle John's version of "So Lonesome I Could Cry."  How can I screw up basically a one string song?  I was pretty proud that a line that always baffles me came out right. "When leaves begin to dry."  It was still a pretty mechanical and rigid rendition that I'd like to do better.

That went well and I think I was singing in tune.  Let's try my version of Wagon Wheel.  First verse and chorus went well.  I think I got the vocal pitch on the Em chord which always gives me trouble because the root note is not the bass string for my 5-string chord shape on the 2nd fret.

Then it happened.  The second verse escaped me.  I went into a little solo routine hoping it would reappear.  Nothing.  A blank.  I had to concede defeat.  Ended it short and thanked everyone for listening.

The host thanked me, asked for a round of applause and quipped, "You never know what's going to happen when a guy brings up a toolbox!"

So I have some stuff to work on for next month's open mic.  I won't be playing in the same league as the other guys who are all old dudes who've been doing this forever and play regular gigs, but I'll be doing my thing.  I think I'll do "Baby Please Don't Go" on my garbage guitar using a full bourbon bottle for the slide.  Maybe I should bring out my version of "Going Down Slow" too.  We'll see.  I will be back there playing the same (relatively) famous stage in the folk music scene with the same great players and I'll try to be a little less intimidated by the whole atmosphere.

The thing I'd like to say to conclude this is how much different this open mic was compared with the 30 minutes I played on stage at the PA CBG Fest last August.  The audience there were my club, or family, and welcomed me with open excitement.  I was completely comfortable knowing that everyone there "gets it."  The best I hoped for last night was passive indifference to light curious engagement.  And it crushed me.  I'll have to puff up my chest a bit more next time, be a big boy and sell it.