roisin whyte

My latest musings are around Open Mics, performance and progression.

I don’t mean to patronise but just to be sure to be sure we are on the same page, allow me my definition… An Open Mic is a gathering of people who come together to listen to and/or share songs/poems/stories. The pieces are sometimes the work of other musicians/artists, but most often these songs/poems/stories are original pieces, written by the person who is singing or speaking them. Open Mics are generally geared towards folk who have never shared their work. They can try it out and see how they go. It’s kind of why they exist. The Open Mic is perfect place for those who want to share something they have created in a space that is open, supportive, encouraging and well run.

Or it would be – but not all Open Mics are created equal.

I’ve done my fair share of them. I tend to go along alone, as they generally happen early in the week, friends aren’t looking to go out and my husband is home with our kids. So it’s often a solitary affair for me, which suits me really, I’m not much of a talker, and by the time evening comes, I’ve used up all my words. Still. What I often encounter is not the warmest of welcomes. There is often a sound guy, and I do mean guy. They can give off the air of someone who would rather be anywhere but where they are, and can’t quite believe that they have to suffer the indignity of running a couple of channels on a desk for you *when they could’ve been a star* It’s quite clear they feel the work is beneath them, and so they don’t do the work. Ironically meaning that though they think they were destined for greater things, participating Open Mic folk often just think: *you don’t know what you’re at*.

But I get it. I have attended many where I started to lose the will very early on. One of the things that gives the Open Mic its charm is the fact that all are welcome to share.

And I do mean all.

It means there is huge variation in the style and standard of those sharing. I have come across some incredible artists this way and it is worth it for that. In truth though, I’ve seen more stuff that isn’t for me.

You can’t please all the people all the time.

And if I struggle with the nature of the Open Mic as a sometime attendee, then I should have a heart for those who have to be there. And I do. But I think that the experience could be wholly better for all involved if the hosts/sound techs engaged better with those performing. If they are, in fact, the experts, show some expertise.

I am generalising, of course. I have attended some Open Mics where the host is engaging and has some good energy about them. But there is a rash of this kind of apathy around, and it can make the Open Mic a fairly dull and disappointing exercise.

Before moving onto thoughts on performing at these gatherings, I feel inclined to talk about one particular Open Mic in Belfast. It has been going for probably 6 or 7 years now and I have performed at it on a number of occasions. I mention it, as I want to acknowledge and pay a little tribute to the host Maria Nickolay/Booth.

I met Maria about 5/6 years ago. She had started the Eastside Open Mic, at The Eastside Centre. It is less than a 5 minutes walk from my house. Maria is from rural Minnesota. I don’t know exactly how she ended up in Northern Ireland but yes, she met a boy, she married the boy and she and that boy will welcome their first baby in early 2025.

I am delighted for them.

From the beginning, Maria sought to make everyone feel welcome. She trained as a sound engineer and always takes the time to set people up as well as possible. Always has a great playlist playing in-between performers which means no-one is fumbling around whilst a quite room watches them knock over mic stands. Folk can take their time. Maria listens intently to every act, adjusting the desk accordingly, and after, she comments on specific elements of their performance. I’ve seen people beam and glow from the acknowledgement. And I see them come back.

These may seem like small things, but the effort that Maria puts into hosting the evening has seen it grow exponentially over the last 5 years. When I started going along there were 10/20 people in the room. It has changed names since them times, (from EastSide Open Mic to Sojourner Open Mic Night) – It has changed home, now in the beautifully restored Templemore Swimming Baths. It was in the café downstairs but even that space couldn’t manage the demand, and it is now upstairs in a lovely open performance space. It happens on the first Friday of each month and I arrived there the other evening just after the appointed sign up time of 6:30pm. I had to queue for 5 minutes to get in. Have you ever queued into an Open Mic? When I arrived inside, all of the 10 available performance slots were gone. I am number 8 on the list for next months gig. The effortless way in which this night goes by, is not effortless at all. It is down to the time, energy and great care that Maria puts in. She has set the Open Mic gold standard and I want to thank her most sincerely for coming here, so far from home, and creating a community we didn’t know we had.

Now onto the specifics of performing at these kind of events. For all the reasons I’ve mentioned I think a good Open Mic is a great thing. It gives inexperienced performers the opportunity to perform in a safe and supportive environment. It allows people to express themselves, to connect with others, to meet other folk who also engage in the mostly solitary act of creating novel work. It is a hugely positive thing.

I wonder if it’s killing me softly.

Most performers will tell you that they cut their teeth on either an Open Mic circuit, or playing gigs for free; (a tougher version of the same thing). People will often introduce themselves by saying they are nervous, and crowds generally do their best to put them at ease. That is as it should be…

But I feel the list coming on.

• Acknowledging that you are feeling nervous and that that will likely affect your performance is good – when you are starting out.
• Examining why you feel this way is not something people think to/are encouraged to do. Are you nervous because it is genuninely a nerve-wracking thing for you to do? Is it because you’ve just written something you love and want to share it (even though it’s not quite ready). Are you nervous because you don’t really know/haven’t practised your material? Because there’s something you can do about that.
• How long should one introduce themselves nervously? How many times should we pre-empt negative feedback by saying “I”m really nervous/I don’t know how this is gonna go/Be nice etc. Instead of focusing on what might take the feelings of inadequacy away; ie (more practise/more playing nervously for loved ones at home/more reflection on why we do it at all/more listening and watching other artists/Did I say practise?).
• Do we ask a little too much of an audience, when we ask for compassion, kindness non-judgement right at the very start? They have come to hear our offerings, but are straight away put in a position where their role is to be supportive, to witness our discomfort and somehow be the crutches that carry us through. The Open Mic is surely the place for that, but if as performers we continue to rely on those supports, I feel like we are asking too much of an audience, and maybe too little of ourselves.

Because surely, what we all want is to get/do better. Performers want to do themselves and their work justice. And supportive audiences want to support. If we give them the best version of ourselves and our work, they get to properly feel, experience, resonate with it. We will have given them something truly unique. In turn they will buy our EPs, publications, merchandise, come to our gigs, tell their friends about “this artist I think you’d like”…..

I must seem awfully judgy here; I don’t believe I am at all. I will always get a huge kick from seeing someone nervously take to the stage for the first time, or the first time in years. Every bit of me roots for them, cheers them on, understands the enormous courage it may have taken to get themselves up those steps. And I am guilty of many of the things aforementioned here. The Open Mic is to me like the thrift shop rummage, the energy that not knowing what to expect brings, the thrill of finding rare gems.

In truth this is a letter to myself. I think I can do better. I have people loyal to me who have heard me play and encouraged me to do more. The progression has been slow, and they are still there giving me little shoves on. I’m not gonna go too hard on myself. There have been reasons for the slow forward motion. And in some ways it suits me to fly quite low under radar, but I’m looking to progress, to give a better show.

Might see you down the front sometime.