Open Mic' Night
Sunday night, X Factor finished, (yes, I love it) and two of the Collective had decided to head into the city centre for some live music. Acoustic music in a local bar. Miserable November rain was ever present, adding a gloomy sombre feel to Liverpool. It would have been easier to stay in - but being the avid music lovers that we are, we did not succumb to this. Text messages sent and a quick adorning of warm attire and I was outside saying a reluctant hello to the ugly elements, as David and I met to make our way to the location.
Drinks bought and we stood at the bar for a moment casting a beady eye on the re -run of a football match played earlier that day. We then found some inviting seats and reclined like two gents ready to allow the music to entertain us.
The stage was inhabited by a duo. A female singer and a guitarist. Charmingly covering a medley of tracks. The venue was pretty chilled. A stylish glass ceiling revealed the rain outside peering into the room. This Sunday crowd seemed to be enjoying the last evening/night of their weekend. Having said this, perhaps some more than others... I looked to my left and saw that David was being accosted by a petite, exotic looking woman.
Basically, she was shamelessly fawning over my friend. Curiously looking at her actions I then quickly noticed that two other men were in attendance. They appeared to be trying to pull her away from an hapless David, who was completely bemused by the amount of attention he was randomly receiving. Which seemed to have transpired out of nowhere. I chuckled to myself, laughing at his funny predicament. The laughing soon stopped when it was my turn to obtain attention.
The woman had broken free from her male clutches and had her sights firmly set on talking and semi cavorting in front of our slightly confused eyes. She told us her name and swiftly followed it with the line that people call her sexy. Oh really. Well, me being my sardonic self couldn't allow her to revel in her own ego - I replied with a curt sarcastic remark that surprised her, then after a second of contemplation - lead her into laughing out loud. Yes, she was drunk to say the least. David and I looked at one another bewildered at the woman's barrage of hyperactive antics until she left us for a while.
The duo on stage continued to do their thing and I commented to David on how impressive it is that singers can remember all the words to the countless songs that they sing. And the guitarist seemed to be able to play so much. Practice I suppose, but as with the musicians at the jazz club that we attend these accomplished musicians are also able to play almost anything that is posed to them. The talent that these people possess is really quite impressive.
Anyway, as this night was an open mic' night the audience present were often invited up on to the stage to sing if they so wished to. The female singer asked on a few occasions for the timid (or unable) audience to get up and have a go. If I could sing like Donny Hathaway I would have boldly marched up onto the stage and taken the microphone out of her hand and sung my heart out. But, as I don't sing anywhere as good as my main man or anybody that I love, I decided to keep sipping on my drink. One other chap present had other ideas to that of my own. I noticed a bearded cardigan wearing dude making his way to the front to request a song. I was unaware of the particular track - I just recall the female on the stage pulling a confused face that basically denoted that she was in no way going to sing his request or couldn't not sing it. Let's say the face meant both.
So, eventually, after the two discussed whatever they discussed the cardigan furnished man decided that he would perform the song that he had requested. He would rap; a Cyprus Hill song, as you do. And as I type out the events of this occasion an uneasy surge of complete cringe wriggles up my back. Thinking back to it makes me laugh/shudder. The song title has evaporated from my memory. The performance, well, that might take a little longer. Perhaps this chappie was under the influence, or he just had the super supreme confidence to rap a song from a group that nobody even talks about these days. It was a sight to behold. He had somewhat brought the mic' night to its knees. As the female singer aptly put it: ''How do you follow that?!"
Before we knew it the 'over friendly' woman was making her way back to us. She was like a little alluringly scented spinning top. Prancing around the joint with a happy disposition, giggling and jabbering away about an assortment of things. The wedding ring on her finger did not do anything to diminish her flirtatious actions. I even asked how her partner would feel about her behaviour to which she retorted - a erm, hmm, expletive that I just can't not type out. Put it this way - I got the message loud and clear. She was "being friendly," as she candidly put it. Oh, OK then, is that what they call it. Also adding that her husband trusted her. I translated that as you do what you want and your husband can put up and shut up. In other words he was a doormat. His watchful glares from across the room heated the necks of David and I. Crikey...
The fine singing and instrument playing played for the hours that we were in the bar. The crowd was a snappy mixture of people which added to the general enjoyment of the night. A little look down at my Casio and the time teller informed me that 1:am was but a mere half hour away. Time to make tracks. A pretty cool evening had been had as David and I decided to head home.
Demola, TCC
Drinks bought and we stood at the bar for a moment casting a beady eye on the re -run of a football match played earlier that day. We then found some inviting seats and reclined like two gents ready to allow the music to entertain us.
The stage was inhabited by a duo. A female singer and a guitarist. Charmingly covering a medley of tracks. The venue was pretty chilled. A stylish glass ceiling revealed the rain outside peering into the room. This Sunday crowd seemed to be enjoying the last evening/night of their weekend. Having said this, perhaps some more than others... I looked to my left and saw that David was being accosted by a petite, exotic looking woman.
Basically, she was shamelessly fawning over my friend. Curiously looking at her actions I then quickly noticed that two other men were in attendance. They appeared to be trying to pull her away from an hapless David, who was completely bemused by the amount of attention he was randomly receiving. Which seemed to have transpired out of nowhere. I chuckled to myself, laughing at his funny predicament. The laughing soon stopped when it was my turn to obtain attention.
The woman had broken free from her male clutches and had her sights firmly set on talking and semi cavorting in front of our slightly confused eyes. She told us her name and swiftly followed it with the line that people call her sexy. Oh really. Well, me being my sardonic self couldn't allow her to revel in her own ego - I replied with a curt sarcastic remark that surprised her, then after a second of contemplation - lead her into laughing out loud. Yes, she was drunk to say the least. David and I looked at one another bewildered at the woman's barrage of hyperactive antics until she left us for a while.
The duo on stage continued to do their thing and I commented to David on how impressive it is that singers can remember all the words to the countless songs that they sing. And the guitarist seemed to be able to play so much. Practice I suppose, but as with the musicians at the jazz club that we attend these accomplished musicians are also able to play almost anything that is posed to them. The talent that these people possess is really quite impressive.
Anyway, as this night was an open mic' night the audience present were often invited up on to the stage to sing if they so wished to. The female singer asked on a few occasions for the timid (or unable) audience to get up and have a go. If I could sing like Donny Hathaway I would have boldly marched up onto the stage and taken the microphone out of her hand and sung my heart out. But, as I don't sing anywhere as good as my main man or anybody that I love, I decided to keep sipping on my drink. One other chap present had other ideas to that of my own. I noticed a bearded cardigan wearing dude making his way to the front to request a song. I was unaware of the particular track - I just recall the female on the stage pulling a confused face that basically denoted that she was in no way going to sing his request or couldn't not sing it. Let's say the face meant both.
So, eventually, after the two discussed whatever they discussed the cardigan furnished man decided that he would perform the song that he had requested. He would rap; a Cyprus Hill song, as you do. And as I type out the events of this occasion an uneasy surge of complete cringe wriggles up my back. Thinking back to it makes me laugh/shudder. The song title has evaporated from my memory. The performance, well, that might take a little longer. Perhaps this chappie was under the influence, or he just had the super supreme confidence to rap a song from a group that nobody even talks about these days. It was a sight to behold. He had somewhat brought the mic' night to its knees. As the female singer aptly put it: ''How do you follow that?!"
Before we knew it the 'over friendly' woman was making her way back to us. She was like a little alluringly scented spinning top. Prancing around the joint with a happy disposition, giggling and jabbering away about an assortment of things. The wedding ring on her finger did not do anything to diminish her flirtatious actions. I even asked how her partner would feel about her behaviour to which she retorted - a erm, hmm, expletive that I just can't not type out. Put it this way - I got the message loud and clear. She was "being friendly," as she candidly put it. Oh, OK then, is that what they call it. Also adding that her husband trusted her. I translated that as you do what you want and your husband can put up and shut up. In other words he was a doormat. His watchful glares from across the room heated the necks of David and I. Crikey...
The fine singing and instrument playing played for the hours that we were in the bar. The crowd was a snappy mixture of people which added to the general enjoyment of the night. A little look down at my Casio and the time teller informed me that 1:am was but a mere half hour away. Time to make tracks. A pretty cool evening had been had as David and I decided to head home.
Demola, TCC
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