I Said, I Said: The Velvet Lounge Chronicles

This past Wednesday, a local music institution was lost. Well... not really. The venue still stands tall and smells of curry, but the Velvet Lounge Open Mic is, sadly, no more. I concede up front that the years of earth and dust between the last time I dimmed the already pretty dim doorway of the Wednesday open mic prevents this moment from being as emotional and, indeed, cathartic as it well could be, but the memories and music built in that space during my post 21, but still formative years deserve acknowledgement on these pages.

Now, as the writer I used to and strive to be, it used to be one of my few (but admittedly super passive) pet peeves when someone would start a paragraph along the lines of "I'm not sure where to begin," but the crutch almost feels appropriate here... almost.

I was on some sort of college break when Ben, Jay, and I think Jake at the time, let me in on this potent music space they had been exploring by night each Wednesday night. None of us had jobs or commitments of true merit, so a mid-week late evening jam session with $4 specials on beer that didn't taste of rainwater was somewhat of a utopia and lo, on that evening and most others, we drove down to the Velvet lounge with instruments in tow to share songs and smiles. Rare was the week that at least some combination of our group didn't make it over there for an hour or several. It became a mainstay of the week, but more importantly, a strong community to cultivate music with and from.

I'm fortunate to have some of most talented friends in the world, in my opinion, and I would trade that for the world and I'm grateful. Also, modesty aside, I'd like to believe that there's a reason we found each other. I'd like to believe I fill that void for them, too. With that said, some of the most profound musical performances I've ever heard have been performed in that venue by complete strangers, some of whom I've never seen again.

From a theremin performance of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" after which it was unanimously decided Wong was born to play the instrument, to a call and response session with hand-drum goddess, Edwina that I don't think any of us have truly recovered from, a lot of the memories I have from the nights spent there have absolutely nothing to do with the songs we played there. Genuinely. To be honest, that's what frightens the heck out of me about the few open mics I do make it to nowadays. (I'm more or less a staple at Crazy Beans 8 Thursdays out of 10, but other than that a lot of my open mic travels atrophied.) So many of these kids, (16 to 20, I'd guess) spend so much time making sure their practiced and tuned up and listening to each other play that I promise you, they are missing out on the wisdom and skills of other performers (not me, to  be clear) that could potentially shape the direction they go as musicians. Now, making sure your sound is on point is important, but not at the expense of missing out on what the community of what an open mic is all about in the first place. Like I said, I think I have some of the most talented friends in world, but I'm so glad I've heard more musicians than them in my life. It has helped be define who I am and want to be as a my own musician, as modest as that hill of beans is. In short, there is no excuse for repeatedly coming inside to hear a friend perform, leaving immdiately afterwards and then waiting outside for another friend to play. I promise you, young world (as if being 26 implies wisdom), you are missing out on so much!

That small PSA out of line, a final reflection on the Velvet Lounge that shaped a large part of a small piece of my life, and a toast to the good times shared by better friends. I take pride in being the only non-Jewish member of the He-bros and I remember dearly the Evening News setting the energy level each night and watching the night grow from there.

I remember fondly Dallas slithering on the floor when not playing his bass. I remember fondly being absolutely all about it on some nights and utterly bewildered by it on most others.

I remember fondly every 2 minute "let's practice the songs real quick" session Jay Kaplan ever called in the parking lot before inviting everyone and anyone up on stage to play with us. It was that kind of openness that we were all about and a lot of nights we really captured lightning in a bottle. With that said, some nights I don't doubt we sounded like outright miscellaneous Sun Ra bonus tracks. Why did we practice in the first place? Good, good laughs.

I remember fondly Wong and Kat singing "Hotel California." If only Jonanne could hear his Mulligan.

I remember fondly Ben's Wagon Wheel dedication to his sister.

I remember fondly Jake being who he is and always being proud

I remember fondly and still with a cringe a person who shall remain nameless drinking random final sips of other people's alcohol to maintain an ever fleeting buzz.

I remember fondly singing in the style of Big Willy.

I remember fondly watching a person who imbibed in one too many brews lean on what he though was a solid wall and instead falling through a push door like a bullet through tissue paper, bringing the whole venue to a momentary halt.

I remember freestyling on a weekly basis. I remember never having to use the phrase, "What the fuck is a Wanksta? You best believe I ain't giving you that answer."

I remember Max trying to high five Jay in middle of him playing a song. Over and over and over and over again.

I remember Bogdan and his knowledge of home economics.

I remember swinging by after an Islanders game, drinking three beers on an empty stomach in what I thought was a lot longer than 40 minutes and wondering why the heck I felt so buzzed up. (Noelle was driving.)

I remember being in a relationship while Jay was single and letting two very pretty Swedish girls leave our table while Jay went to the bathroom. I was wrapped up in the music and straight up didn't even notice. Jay was justifiably equal parts miffed and shocked. I definitely blew it.

I remember Emily letting me know the time I just shook hands with someone who didn't wash their hands after using the bathroom. Good looks, Em.

I remember asking Jay to teach me how to say "Happy New Year" in Hebrew, thinking it would be four syllables or less. I remember resolving to learn how to say "Happy New Year" in Hebrew some other time.

I remember singing and rapping my heart out with my best friends.

I remember

I'll never forget.

Song of the Day: The Way The Lazy Do - Dr. Dog

Jazz Song of the Day: Sleeping Giant - Ben Allison