If you're going to read this, please read it all and don't assume you know where what I'm saying is going to end up.

This evening, while watching Scrubs on DVD, my roomie, Mark suggested going to the open mic at The Java Hut.

Now I enjoy the Java Hut a great deal, and it is a great place for shows. The poetry open mic on Sundays is full of very attentive, interested, interactive, respectful people both performing and observing. The Tuesday music open mic, however, had gradually left an increasingly bad taste in my mouth.

I have to say though, that open mics in general had. And many other musicians I know feel this way. Open mic nights all over the place seem to be full of people who are only there waiting for their turn to play...or their friend's turn to play...or not there to hear music at all, just there to socialize and talk over whoever is performing (no matter how talented, loud, or assertive). So many open mics seemed to be an assembly of the in-crowd who had carved their niche in whatever cafe or bar and would scoff at anyone outside their clique who didn't prove oneself.

Unfortunately, my expectations heading into this particular Tuesday were incredibly low. I expected people to ignore me or laugh at me...to walk out on me as I played...to be disrespectful (most likely without trying to), not necessarily even because they thought I sucked but because they just weren't interested. I began to view it as an opportunity to test out new songs or ideas, to get practice at stage bantor and even more importantly, practice at dealing with playing for people who at best just didn't care and at worst cared so much so that they openly demonstrated their distatste.

I did not expect this night to be the best open mic I've ever played. I did not expect it to be a moment where I would connect with people and we'd make something special. I had no idea people would be singing and clapping along to my songs and that myself and others would leave there feeling happier and more fulfilled after I played a few of my stupid songs. I had no idea something so magical, as magical as the best shows I've ever played, was going to happen in Worcester's Java Hut at the end of a traditionally disappointing open mic night tradition.

By the time it was my turn (as I arrived late but was still graciously given the chance to play at the end of the scheduled people...thank you Matt Fox!) the crowd was probably 1/5 the size it was at its peak. And as I set up and began playing, a good amount of those people filtered out. What was left were some of the most attentive, appreciative and amazing people I've ever played for/with at the Hut.

Tonight we made something happen. We had a great fuckin' time. Whether half-sarcastically or not, everyone inside helped make something unique together and it made my night. It also made me realize a few things.

The whole 'don't judge a book by it's cover thing' gained more depth for me. Just as people shouldn't judge a performer because of his hipster clothing or his hippie haircut or his not-so-pretty voice, a performer shouldn't judge an opportunity based on its status as an open mic or its location such as crumby Worcester, or assume the people in attendance are going to be selfish, elitist and/or rude.

All shows should be, and probably open mic nights more so, a place for people to share...to share songs, to share a good time, to share something special. I ranted at length about it before we all blasted an awesome chorus of "Home" and I've already carried on quite long enough for this blog entry.

I just felt I really should write about this night. It was truly amazing and it truly helped open my eyes to life, music, and opportunities for the two to merge beautifully. Thank you so much to everyone who helped make tonight so wonderful!

xo,
Jesse // Grey Milk