Open Mic Opens Doors For Creativity

“Nice to see a lot of familiar faces, nicer to see the unfamiliar faces,” said Nick Aubin, the host of a weekly Open Mic Night at Gather, located at 952 State St. The coffee shop brimmed with faces, open and smiling, many of them ready to play multiple roles over the course of the evening: performer, fan, and friend. At their core, open mics form a hub for the community, a safe space for artists familiar and unfamiliar, veteran and newcomer, to showcase their creativity.

Aubin opened the night by performing a selection of country and folksy songs. Using only his voice and his banjo, he transformed the earthy grotto-like haven of Gather into a Wild West saloon. One could imagine the passing cars outside the window replaced by rolling tumbleweeds and neighing horses. After playing a few covers, Aubin told a story about Rudyard Kipling writing down the words to songs he heard soldiers singing. Kipling transcribed them as poetry, the melody lost to time, so Aubin set the words to his own music. ​“We’re going home, we’re going home, our ship is on the shore,” he crooned into the mic.

Emily Ide followed Aubin on her saxophone. ​“I haven’t played it in front of people for a while, with people, for people, and I missed it,” she said, as she got set up. Ide performed the jazz standard ​“Cry Me a River” on the sax, before switching to guitar and vocals. She played a couple of original songs, full of pathos and tender melancholy. ​“You were someone I loved / You were someone I craved / But now you’re someone to get over,” Ide lamented.

Bill E. K took the open mic away from music for a poetic interlude. ​“None of this shit is funny by the way, if anyone laughs I’m gonna kick your ass,” he joked. K’s acerbic spoken word combined quotations from other poets, snatches of lyrics, and his own distinctive flair to shock, amuse, and inspire in turns. As he spat witty wordplay at the audience, he threw his whole body into the performance, curling around the mic like a flaming piece of parchment folds in upon itself.

Kailyn Campbell started her set with two covers, ​“Vampire” by Olivia Rodrigo (piano and vocals) and “(Sittin’ On) the Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding (guitar and vocals). Her voice started out soft, then swelled to fill the entire room. She also played an original song about uncertainty and finding herself trapped within her own mind. ​“I feel the pressure building walls around me and I can’t undo, I know,” Campbell sang.

Remembering Sunday, also known as Dave Caulford, attends the open mic every Wednesday. This week, he played four original songs on the piano. ​“Fallen Angel” captured a wistful, wandering melody that soared and dipped like a soap bubble in the air, just as delicate and iridescent. ​“Away From You,” which he deemed ​“more motivational,” contained all the soft joy and hard resistance of a child playing ball in the street. As his fingers danced across the keys, the tune fluctuated between bittersweet and upbeat, and the mood in the room shifted accordingly.

Moshyura’s set demonstrated the collaborative nature of the open mic. He didn’t have a drummer with him, so Clancy Emanual, another performer in the audience, stepped up to provide him with a beat. Moshyura opened with a song from Spongebob, then transitioned into an original. The music flowed fast-paced and energetic, until everyone in the room felt compelled to tap their feet to the rhythm. His sister joined him to sing the final song, a melodic and syrupy-sweet but nonetheless powerful cover of Radiohead’s ​“Creep.”

The musician known as Flow Like Water played a backtrack on his phone of a meditative but rapid beat, as he spat soft but fast-paced lyrics that provided some sage advice. ​“Live, love life, give, unbound,” he sang. Flow Like Water’s next songs were similar in style, but steadily increased in rhythm.

Nick Grunerud lightened the mood with a little comedy. He regaled the audience with tales of how ​“things need to be cheaper” and the annoyance of no turn on red signs. ​“Rent’s so expensive and you can’t afford onions so turning on red should be one of the only rights you have anymore,” he said, to hearty applause. He also did a few impressions, including an uncanny mimicry of a sprinkler.

Around 10:00 pm, three hours after the start of the open mic, things began to quiet down. The audience hadn’t left, but the mood had shifted to something softer and less raucous. ​“We’re entering the quiet era,” said Aubin, ​“Brought to you by the upstairs neighbors who paid me to turn down the mic.” Aubin said that the event can run as late as 1:00 in the morning, because he refuses to turn down anyone who wishes to perform. The open mic is always open, as it provides a constant haven for creativity and community. As the hours ticked on, the sounds of laughter, music, and spirited conversation echoed well into the night.

Open Mic Night at Gather, 952 State St., occurs every Wednesday at 7 p.m.