DEATH & The Night Life

In the afternoon, Andrew and I went to see a documentary called A Band Called Death. It's about three black brothers in Detroit who, in 1973, started a rock and roll band called, ahem, DEATH. Their music is loud, fast and HARD AS, and predates a lot of the "punk" sound coming out of New York a few years later. They were offered a contract by Arista Records - through Clive Davis - under one condition: they be open to changing the name. At the eldest brother's insistence, they refused. That's punk rock.

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Later in the day we went out for another double open mic. The first stop was the Gallery Cabaret. Entering the bar, America's Got Talent was playing on a large HD television and the sound was the only thing heard in the bar. There were people there, more than a few. But the bartender, an older, skinny cowboy with a big beard, jeans, a cowboy hat and hand full of assorted skull and "badass" type rings. The smell was harsh and distinct. Like a whole mess of Lysol was used to cover up what the bar normally smelled like, which was probably vomit, shit and regret.

I signed up to go second but no one else signed up for the first slot so I went first. It went fine. The line in wasn't working properly so my guitar was quiet in the mix. Going first is difficult. You're kind of responsible for setting the tone and I was just nervous. There was also this woman towards the front who was spitfire drunk. Her whole personality strikingly resembled Pamela Adlon, particularly her character from Louis C.K.'s Louie. She even looked like her. It was uncanny.

What followed after me was a very diverse set of Chicago locals and travelers. This Mexican guitarist/singer/harmonica player named Vijente played some old Mexican classics (that I had never heard). There was a kind of corny (albeit talented) ukelele player who did a charming version of "Georgia On My Mind." There was this young woman from Atlanta who was up in Chicago to play a wedding (someone saw a cover song she put up on YouTube and asked her to come up and play it for them). And the closer was this local manic-pixie-dream-girl who played some schizophrenic pop/dance stuff on a loop pedal. Here's a video of her performing on the Gallery Cabaret stage actually.

After this the Pamela Adlon-type brought up her boyfriend, whom she was fighting with, and they fought their way through what was supposed to be a cover of the Rolling Stones' "Let's Spend The Night Together." I left at this point to make a phone call home.

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The next open mic was at Bucktown Pub and was hosted by a mustachioed 6'6" dude by the name of John Kimler. He opened the show with some really good "last call" bar tunes, including: Tom Waits' "The Heart of Saturday Night" and Bob Dylan and The Band's … Balzac, I can't remember. Anyway, it was damn good. The highlight of the night for me came when this guy Josh played Bruce Springsteen's "Atlantic City" (one of my favorite songs OF ALL TIME) accompanied by a local trumpet player, Paul. It took my breath away. And the way Paul filled the gaps with his muted trumpet was subtle and haunting.

I went up fifth this time and stuck out amongst the all-male folk-y guitarist-singers that preceded me. And it went… really well. I felt comfortable. I felt like I was playing to the right crowd. After John's Waits and Dylan stuff and Josh's "Atlantic City," I felt like I might have something to add to the conversation. I threw in a cover of Dylan's "I Shall Be Released" and John sang along from behind the mixer. I was pitchy throughout (I couldn't decide between the higher register and lower even though I know how I do it - start low and end up high - but gah it was sloppy) but the final verse and chorus were solid. I closed this set with "Volveré" (at Andrew's recommendation) and I think I'm going to do that from now on. I wanted to start my set with that because I feel like it's a good attention grabber. But it may be better to close with it since it closes so strong. You know, the part where I threaten to kill a few people.

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Tomorrow: A COMEDY open mic?! How bad of an idea is that!?


BONUS: Here's video I shot of Vigente. The woman you hear talking is the spiritual twin of Pamela Adlon: