(or…..Where I found my passion for performing)
A Barley House Buddies Essay by JohnnyO Ozelius
“Can you see the real me…me…me…me…me…me…me…” Pete Townsend.
If you have ever attended an open mic you know that it is an interesting exhibit of local talent. Most openmic performers are true amateurs’ like you and I. We are just out to enjoy the experience. We want to feel the salty combination of fear and exhilaration as we get up in front of a supportive crowd and lay it on the line. Don’t let appearances fool you. For many of us, getting up in front of 25 people to sing a song is the equivalent of a novice skier flying down the mountain at breakneck speed. We don’t always know where we’ll end up, but we hope we will still be on two feet with someone cheering at the last note.
I would like to tell you a tale about one of my early open mic performances in Concord, NH. Concord has a small but thriving music scene and several great open mics.
In 1999, I had not participated in an openmic for well over 15 years. In college, I had participated in a number of talent shows and coffeehouses, but life had taken over and after finding myself in the suburbs with a wife, 3 kids and all the fixings, I simply hadn’t made time to do much besides strum a few chords on the front stoop now and then.
But around 1998 and 1999, my passion for performing began to return and I decided to investigate the open mic scene. I literally checked the newspaper for announcements. Yes, I said the newspaper. Does anybody remember that old paper pamphlet that provided all the local news. But I digress. I made note of a few openmic events advertised that fit my schedule and made a promise to myself that I would get out there and lay it on the line.
So, here I find myself at Pennuci’s Ale House in early 1999 for my first open mic type experience since college. A guy named Shane ran the show with help from a house band cobbled together from friends. They actually were pretty good and played a fun set of bluesy rock material. Basically they would play three or four songs, then bring up 3 or four individuals and let them do 2 to 4 songs apiece. Then they would repeat the process from 9:00pm until 1am every Sunday night. The first time I showed up , I did not play, I just checked out the scene. Realizing this might be safe, I decided to bring my old Ovation the next week and sign up.
So there I was 7 days later, ready to go. I had two songs ready, and when it was my turn, I played my best version of Little Feat’s Dixie Chicken. I don’t remember except that I didn’t forget any words and managed to land on my feet. Now that I had one song under my belt, I decided to follow with a cover of Eric Clapton’s unplugged version of his electric version of his own cover of a great Bo Diddley song “Before you Accuse Me” It was going well until just at the beginning of the 2nd verse, this guy with longesh, wavy blond, a baby face and a cigerette but hanging out of his mouth approached the stage, staggered toward the drumkit and mimed a question to me which was drunk for “do you mind of I play the drums? I smiled, gave him a quizzical look and bobbed my head in the affirmative.
He sat down and proceeded to ruin my song because he couldn’t keep a beat. Now, I played with a few drummers who couldn’t keep a steady beat. What I mean to tell you is this guy couldn’t keep a beat at all. Whether it was the drink or the lack of skill, he was bad. But, in good humor, I finished the song, got a few cheers and laughs and thanked the crowd for their attention and care. My new drummer friend introduced himself as Lance and apologized that he was too drunk to keep the beat. He smiled and staggered off.
Now as if that were the end of the story, my new friend Lance was to truly amaze me later in the show. About three hours later, the last openmic perfomer stepped up to close out the night. It was none other than my new buddy Lance. However, Lance was now the new and improved “mostly sobered up Lance”. I remember Lance for a couple of reasons, first, because his drunken Ringo act he loused up my song, but also because he played a natural color Ovation guitar. The real reason I remember Lance so well is because he proceeded to play one of the greatest finale songs I’ve ever heard open mic or in a packed arena.
His first few songs were delivered well, but to be truthful I cannot remember any of them. I do remember however hearing people yelling, “Walk a Mile” Lance, play Walk a Mile”,” Lance asked in reply, “Are you sure”. The calls came back.
“Yeah. Walk a Mile”.
So, as a good rocker, will, Lance responded with the first basic chord strums of the great Joe South song made famous by Elvis. The thing is though, and it gives me chills now just to think about it. Lance made it his song. I have heard that phrase used to describe various performers who perform a cover of a song, but “make it theirs”. Joe Cocker is a great example. Joe takes a song made famous by such a band as the Beatles, and ” makes it his own”. That is what Lance did that night. Not only that, Lance turned the song into a great finale by winding the final chorus around and around, getting the whole crowd singing along with him.
There we were, 30 to 40 half drunk locals singing “Walk a Mile in my Shoes”. After at least 4 final choruses, he carried it right up to a big Carnegy Hall ending. If I had closed my eyes, I would’ve thought that I was in the 4th row at the Carnegy itself. Big cheers went all around and I was amazed. How could the drunk drummer had done such a thing? Simple, a little sobering up and a boatload of talent.I went home that night and slept. But I woke up the next day and couldn’t stop thinking about Lance and that song. I needed a song like that. A big finale. I began noticing how all my favorite performer’s had a big finale song. JT – Steamroller, Harry Chapin – 30000 pounds of bananas, You name, they’ve got one.
More later on my big finale.
The odd part of the story is that I never ever in all my travels ran into Lance again. I thought maybe he had left town. However I have been told that Lance has indeed been around Concord. He and I just seem to be invisible to each other. Sometimes, late at night, I think that lance was sent there that very night like an angel, to give me a vision of what kind of performer I could work toward being. A true performer who could get the crowd singing alongm, who could make the covers my own and who could finsh with a big resounding Finale. Some nights I’m just anotheraverage singer songwriter, but once in a while, I have touched the edge of that cosmic circle in space and time, where, people sing along, where people rock back and forth with me, and where people join me in the spin of the music. I thank Lance for giving me the image to shoot for. I just wish I could thank him in person.
Thanks Lance.
As always, thank you for stopping by to check out my blog. JohnnyOooooooo