'She canna be saved, Captain...' Bit of a nasty surprise when I took the little guitar my brother had been storing for me here in New York out of its gig bag to play at my first open mic here yesterday evening... The back had pulled away from the sides, causing a huge irreparable crack that reminded me of San Andreas all over again. It wasn't a valuable instrument (except sentimentally), so I wasn't completely devastated over its loss (unlike when my darling Ovation guitar was nicked off a Greyhound bus when I first moved to Texas many years ago and I felt like I'd lost a friend...), but it did throw me upon the mercy of the others at the open mic, and has forced me to rethink my US music plans rather radically. I will tomorrow be scouring the New York pawn shops for a reasonable guitar, one that I can sell back when I leave. (Thanks, Paula, for that clever idea, planted back in the UK but only now having to be put into action!)
The other folk at the Path Cafe open mic on Christopher Street in the West Village were very friendly (particularly Andrea from the UK and Bobby Blue from Brooklyn, pictured below) and I had no shortage of offers to borrow an instrument. In the end, though, it was easiest to go with the battered but nice-sounding house guitar.
The procedure involved drawing a number from a bowl, and with over 40 people wanting to play, I could have been there until 11 pm. Fortunately, however (given that I was by 7 pm beginning to flag from the effects of the previous day's travel and not a great night's sleep), I drew number 3, which meant not only that I played early, but that I got to do two songs, unlike those who played after the number 12 slot, by which time it was limited to one song each.
I played 'Slick as Texas Oil' and 'This House', and when I got home much later, I had a message from a steel guitarist who'd been there, offering to play some steel for me - open mics are such a great way to network!
I stayed as late as I could to listen to the other acts, but was having trouble keeping my eyes open by 9 pm, at which point I caught the uptown subway and was back at the apartment by 9.20, hitting the sack by 10 - and now that it's 4 am, I'm ready and raring to go again... :-/
Stay tuned for my NYC pawn shop adventures...
The other folk at the Path Cafe open mic on Christopher Street in the West Village were very friendly (particularly Andrea from the UK and Bobby Blue from Brooklyn, pictured below) and I had no shortage of offers to borrow an instrument. In the end, though, it was easiest to go with the battered but nice-sounding house guitar.
The procedure involved drawing a number from a bowl, and with over 40 people wanting to play, I could have been there until 11 pm. Fortunately, however (given that I was by 7 pm beginning to flag from the effects of the previous day's travel and not a great night's sleep), I drew number 3, which meant not only that I played early, but that I got to do two songs, unlike those who played after the number 12 slot, by which time it was limited to one song each.
I played 'Slick as Texas Oil' and 'This House', and when I got home much later, I had a message from a steel guitarist who'd been there, offering to play some steel for me - open mics are such a great way to network!
I stayed as late as I could to listen to the other acts, but was having trouble keeping my eyes open by 9 pm, at which point I caught the uptown subway and was back at the apartment by 9.20, hitting the sack by 10 - and now that it's 4 am, I'm ready and raring to go again... :-/
Stay tuned for my NYC pawn shop adventures...
 A swift selfie from my new pals from the open mic... |  'I can't be the first one who believed in you, Swallowed lies as slick as Texas oil...' |
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