Now we are all looking perfect #illusion #poison #killtheband
Now we are all looking perfect #illusion #poison #killtheband
I need feminism because pre-determined gender roles limit everyone’s freedom and autonomy. If one person is oppressed, everyone is. #SmashPatriarchy
Quick goodnight Minkey snores #dog #doglover #dogstagram
Yup. Last night was the night. My record of accident free shows went back to 0. FUCK. Seriously. I can’t tell you the horror I feel today. The shame. The replay button in my head repeats the series of missteps, misunderstandings, failures and embarrassment over and over. Craig keeps telling me he’s sure it wasn’t that bad. CRAIG HAS NO IDEA.
Let’s start here.
I actually had two shows last night and the first one at Jefferson’s Bare Storytelling and Pre-Orgy Show went off without a hitch, even though the show was double booked with another storytelling show. Smooth. Fun. Good crowd. No mistakes that weren’t fun little hiccups that kept me on my toes. I even got a lovely FB wall post from a fellow performer that said I KILLED. Yay! I had a Jameson and a burger and really enjoyed the stories and the company of friends. I love the vibe at Sidewalk Cafe. It feels like home. At 9 I knew I had to scoot over to LIC where I had been asked to be part of a showcase for The Creek and The Cave by the owner, Rebecca. She contacted me on Facebook and let me know she had heard good things and offered me a spot. The Creek and Cave is newer territory for me and I am pleased to be getting booked at a comedy club that I like. Still, it’s a bit intimidating being around comedians. I’ve always considered myself more of a musician, but I write funny songs - so here we are!
And here’s where it all goes to hell.
I arrive just as the prior show is ending, and after an unfortunate incident walking in on a man washing his butt in the sink in the bathroom, I headed up to the stage to see Tony, TCATC’s very kind and helpful technician. He remembered me from the week before and we chatted about our night and our week while we got my rig set up and did a quick sound check. It can get tricky in a venue not equipped for music, but we found a decent balance and I mingled with some friends new and old and sat down to take in the show I was performing in. I quickly noticed this show was much different than last weeks show there. Tight sets. No drinking. A+ material. I guess, not really being a comedian, It started to sink in when my friend Tim gave me the sage wisdom of, “Just do what you do. Don’t be nervous about the audience. The owner Rebecca is watching. She’s the one that matters.” OHHHHHHHH. oh. This is like…what? What is this? A showcase. That means. OH. This is like a bigger deal than a regular show. OH. Oh. Well. I’m just gonna do what I do and have fun. It’s fine. I didn’t psych myself out and Tim was honestly trying to be helpful. But oh. Short 6-7 minute sets are tough for me to give the best impression due to the nature of what I do, but I’ll just have fun. Like I do.
Paul Hooper was hosting the show and he brought me up to the stage. (series of excuses) (there’s no excuse) I felt weird. I was tired. It was my second show of the night and I had had a long day. I was in a comedy club - and I do better in music venues. I was wedged between straight up stand ups. I was gonna stand out or stick out. I felt a rush of excitement and nerves like always, and took the stage. There was immediate confusion as we had to switch to my VoiceLive Touch rig from the regular microphone. I asked Paul to clear the other mic and it was awkward while I scootched over my my stand and instrument. I talked a little. It felt…intense, but I just went with it and launched into Ben Kingsley. I got halfway through the song and things were going pretty well, I had the audience singing along…and then…I went to grab my tambourine for the faster part of the song - second verse, and my foot got caught in my cord and the entire stand fell with my VoiceLive Touch and microphone flying everywhere - my phone launching into the air - everything falling. Everything crashing. Yep. Yeah. In the middle of the song. The whole thing crashes. My face flushes. My brain buzzes. I go into worst case scenario mode. I pick up the stand and mic and set it back up happhazzardly while singing the second verse of the song and trying to reconnect everything - wires everywhere and it’s…I can tell EVERYONE in the audience is freaking out for me. Everyone is watching The Perfect Storm. I realize the mic isn’t working. I project and keep going. I get to:
"And no one respects a woman….." and I look out at the audience (LEVEL 11 OF AWKWARDNESS) and say. "See? Maybe this is all a set up and I destroyed my set on purpose." Some laughter. I end the song while desperately trying to assess the tech situation. There is no sound coming out of my rig. If I can’t loop, I can’t perform the other song I have prepared. MY A MATERIAL. I try it. I try to loop, beatboxing into the mic and getting nothing. No sound. NOTHING.
I TELL EVERYONE NOT TO PANIC. (I am telling myself.)
Paul approaches the stage as if to cut me off BUT NO. I WON’T LET HIM SAVE ME OR STOP ME FROM MAKING MORE OF AN ASS OUT OF MYSELF.
I then tell the left side of the audience that they are going to be the piano.
They look confused. I am confused.
I tell the right side of the audience that they are going to be the drums.
I want to run screaming from the club.
I will conduct and play them. I will play the audience. THEY MUST BE ON BOARD. THEY MUST NOT PANIC. THEY MUST HELP ME OUT OF THIS SITUATION.
They start as I conduct. They are shy. We are all reeling a bit from what’s just happened. I sing a weird rendition of Girl Balls as I grind on some poor man in the front. They do their best.
I end. There is SO MUCH WEIRDNESS I can’t tell you.
Paul takes the stage and the show moves forward. I head to the bar to GET SHITFACED BECAUSE OMG WTF?
Rebecca pops down and walks right up to me and says:
"That’s EXACTLY the kind of trainwreck set I saw Reggie Watts do the first time I saw him."
I take that as a compliment and drink until I pass out.
So that happened. As good as I get and as confident as I am, THAT CAN STILL HAPPEN. On a night where it counts. I failed as best I could. Instead of killing, I died.
When people say: New York is Dead, or creativity has vanished because it’s too expensive or NYC hates art/artists, remember that you are also shitting on the artists that are here, fighting the good fight. I look around and see the cream of the crop striving to make their way, doing their thing. Sometimes I can’t believe the level of talent I get to witness on any given day. If creativity truly flows best during adversity, I can’t think of a better time for art to win NYC back. It’s not impossible. Stay and fight or support us from beyond the barricades, but PLEASE stop saying NYC is dead. It’s not much different than when I got off the bus here 20 years ago. AND WE’RE NOT DEAD YET.Here’s a link to affordable artist housing in Downtown Brooklyn
Speaking of creating, I played a gig at Molly 0’s for Planet Connections Kick Off Party/miixer last night. Molly O’s is a quaint little Irish Pub with good food on Ave. A. The line up was made up of past and present Planet Connections Participating artists. Here’s the line-up from last night. I encourage you all to look them up and check out their work.
John Fico Melissa Meli & Adam Baritot Killy Mockstar Dwyer Alyson Greenfield Craig Greenberg Ye Elizabeths Katy Cockrell Angi3 Jen Urban & The Box and Chris Leidenfrost-Wilson
Unfortunately, Molly O’s had double booked the venue and we had two competing functions happening simultaneously. The other party was boisterous and paid no mind to the more subdued other half of the bar (us!) who were trying to be attentive to the performers getting up to do their thing in the corner by the swinging kitchen door (Molly O kept walking right in front of the performers to fetch food and bring it out. Hilarious!). It was almost impossible to hear the first two acts and I was DETERMINED not to be missed or lost in the noise. When the host introduced me, I stood up on the bar and clapped my tambourine loudly against my hand to get everyone from BOTH parties attention. The whole bar quieted and after sort of introducing myself and party a to party b, I launched into a song that I knew would bring both parties together. Ben Kingsley. Of course, by this time the owner (Molly O herself) was having a heart attack and flagging me down, yelling at me, tugging on me to get off the bar. So I stepped on to a high stool and continued on as people continued to try to persuade me to get down WHILE I was singing, keeping the rapt attention of the entire bar. At just the right moment I hopped off and walked the entire length of the bar through both parties singing the second verse and finally “No one respects a woman…….” where the whole place laughed together at the irony? SUCCESS. Molly was kind of pissed but she didn’t stop serving me, so no big! Plus, I sold a bunch of CD’s and met a bunch of fantastic people - my favorite of which was Karen on holiday from New Zealand. She was associated with NEITHER party, but became my bar buddy before the show started. She bought my CD and is now bringing her brother to my show on Saturday for his birthday and her last night in town! :D Oh, and here’s my second favorite person I met, little Hotty McHotty-Von Superfan! :D
I keep meaning to blog about life as a starving artist, but I’m always too hungry to type. AHAAAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!! AH! ah. eh. meh.
I’m busy. Or Lazy. Or both. Whatever that means. Bluzy. BUSY BEING LAZY, SON! No. I hate that. Son thing. Don’t do that, Killy. You have NO street cred with anyone who says son. You also have no son. You have a dog. Your dog is a lady.
Anyhoo. Tonight I dropped by the Open Mic Downstairs at Under St. Marks Theater (94 St. Marks Street EVERY Tuesday at 9). It’s a great little place to workshop new pieces, redo old pieces, shoot the shit in a QandA and ANYTHING goes (except fire/glitter/heckling) For instance, I saw Satan’s penis there once. Twice. Nope. Like 5 times. Flaccid. Purple. Hairy. There you have it. Here’s a link to the FB page SON! ug.
Ok. Back to my night (MY GOD CRAIG AND MONKEY ARE SNORING SO LOUD!) (Sorry) Stay on topic. I drove the Prius in the sub zero temps so I
a.) could by a new PA at Guitar Center.
I got a Behringer Keyboard amp/PA. I hope it’s the right thing, but I have 60 days to decide, so it’s good enough for experimenting with better sound than I’ve had in awhile. Here is a link!
b.) wouldn’t drink too much
c.) wouldn’t freeze to death waiting for the G train.
Anyway, back to the meat! The OMD is a great, supportive, loving offspring of what used to be Penny’s Open Mic. It’s growing, it’s changing, it’s still the same. Mike Milazzo is still there, playing the opening tune and I am always happy to find many friends and artists I love there.
I popped by Simone first for a glass of vino to take the chill off and then got the #3 slot of the night! SCORE!
I performed two oldies but goodies because the theme was Nostalgia. First I did Darth Invader and then my fake country classic Don’t Attack Me With Your Cuntryness where I borrow the house guitar and then feign strumming it while the track plays and I yodel out the song. Here’s a link of me doing DAMWYC in the character of Lurlene my ALTER EGO.
The usual suspects were at OMD even though even INSIDE the theater it was only 50 degrees (I COULD SEE MY BREATH!), I was warmed by seeing my fremily (friend family) the first time this year and happy to take in some great, risk taking art.
I stayed for a smoke after my set and watched Ogletree do his classic “The Whole Thing Is Happening Now” and then brushed by Joe Yoga in the stairwell on my way to zee car and to a warm bath back at Killy HQ.
I’m glad I went. I needed to get out, yet feel like I was in(cluded). I will never cease to be inspired by the people I meet there - like Kaitlyn O, one of the hosts who (during her set) threw herself around on the floor tonight lamenting about being young and not knowing what to do with her life and even by Satan, who’s penis I missed by a hair.