Campfyre Stories

So about a week before I went to DC, I put an ad on Craigslist to ask about area open mics that I might be able to play.  I had mentioned to only one person who didn’t know me that I was planning on bringing my guitar.  This information got around.  When I arrived in DC and got to the restaurant where the team was meeting, I was immediately asked if I brought my guitar and if I had found an open mic.  Apparently, word got around and everyone was intrigued by this potential.

Well, I had brought my guitar, and I had found an open mic.  A couple of people had recommended a place called Iota and I fully intended to go ahead and play there on Wednesday.  It is apparently *the* place for open mics in the area.  We decided to make an evening of it and have dinner there as well, since their menu was pretty nice-looking.

So I had to leave work a little early, and my boss drove me to Arlington.  I have this thing where I hate to be late so much that I even hate to be on time, so when I got there with only 5 minutes to spare, I was a little concerned.

The way it worked was that everyone planning to play raises their hand.  The host takes a count and then puts the numbers 1-whatever in a hat for everyone to pick out of.  Now, me?  Ideally, I like to go on somewhere early, but not first.  Somewhere in the 5-10 range is perfect for me.  This goes extra for an open mic I have never been to, so that I can get a feel for the place and the type of music they play there.

We were told that we would only have one song per person, since there were so many people, so imagine my abject terror when I reached into the hat and pulled number ONE.  I kind of freaked out a little and asked if I could be moved, but they said no.

So my boss gets on the phone and starts calling everyone on the team.  "This is what time Fyre is playing.  If you want to see here, get here right away."  Heh.  Honestly, I don’t feel like I’m worth all that much effort, and having people I’ve only just met making this big deal about my playing kind of rattles me.  That’s ok, though, I’m pretty much fine before and during a performance.

Well, 8/12 of the team made it in time, and we’re talking, with a *very* short time to spare.  I got up on stage, introduced myself and started playing.

To an amazingly obnoxious bass feedback coming out of the monitors.

So I stopped in the middle of the first verse and said "I can’t play like this.  Can you fix this feedback?  It’s ruining my song."  Which they did, and I picked back up at the start of the first verse (Happily Ever After starts on a chorus) and played through to a lessened (but not gone) bass hum.

I got off stage and started shaking like crazy.  This always happens.  All the nervous energy hits me when I’m finished, not before I go onstage.  It’s not so much a fear of performance as a fear of being judged for my performance.  It means that when people tell me how good I am or how much they liked it, I don’t believe them and think that they’re trying to spare my feelings.  I’m getting MUCH better about just taking the compliments, though.

I felt like I had left them unsatisfied, though.  Lyrically, it was my best song, but vocally and instrumentally I have better songs.  Also, only being able to play one song didn’t show my repertiore at all.  Oh well, not much that can be done about it.

When I went to put my guitar in my boss’ car, he gave me *real* feedback, constructive criticism, which is so rare and so valuable.  I don’t get it often except from my family, so it was nice to hear a non-relation give me something to work with.  He also alluded to some important people he knows who could be good contacts for me to have, but I don’t know if that will actually pan out.  Considering I play and write as a hobby more than anything else, it’s not something I need to dwell on.

The rest of the evening was dinner, followed by karaoke.  One of the members of my team is a most excellent singer, as I learned at karaoke, and I’d love to work with him, perhaps in a duet situation.  He lives in my area, so this is a definite possibility that I will most certainly pursue.

On the topic of karaoke, I only have one thing to say.  When someone is deciding not to come, the words "Come on, man, I sang for you, it’s your turn to sing for me," SHOULD NOT EVER WORK.  But it did.  I am amused and slightly impressed with myself for that.  Also, for not following it up with other statements that probably would have worked to my detriment.

So, there you go.  That’s one story.  Sort of.