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9/16/26

“Excuse Me Gentlemen, is that Country Music You’re Playing?”

My first set of wheels and the associated freedom to roam was really the beginning of my music education. Just about every day, I found a place to play and sing. I had contracted the disease known as musical obsession. Fortunately, in the 1970s and 80s in Washington, there was no shortage of opportunities to feed the muse in my head. I went to festivals, jam sessions, concerts, and one-on-one sessions whenever a friend had a hankerin’ to pick, but my favorite spots for venting my steam were open mics. An open mic (pronounced “mike” and short for microphone) is an amateur showcase, usually at a bar. We would-be stars took turns caterwauling, bellering, thrashing, and framming in front of an audience. Usually, about half of the participants were decent musicians who were there to try out material and meet like-minded folks with whom they might form bands or bonds. The other half were a mixture of learners, like me, and those who provided unintentional comic relief. I think maybe some of those who were so bad they were funny must have been planted by the hosts to break up the tedium.

Way back when, my friend and future bandmate John Brunschwyler discovered an open mic, hosted by Chance Shiver, at Gallagher’s Pub in Northwest DC. We agreed to meet there and show them our stuff. John rode there on the Metro (our subway), as he didn’t have his driver’s license yet. The number of excellent musicians who performed that night was way above average. We heard country blues, rockabilly, old country, singer-songwriters, and some that we laughed about for weeks. It was such a positive experience that I went back every Monday night for a couple of years. At Gallagher’s, I met several musicians who became long-term friends and helped shape my music aesthetic.

There, I discovered country blues as played by Neil Harpe, Eleanor Ellis, and Rick Franklin. Eddie Nesbitt, one of Washington’s country music legends who had written hits for Hank Snow, Hawkshaw Hawkins, and others, was there nearly every Monday night. Mary Chapin Carpenter came quite often and even filled in as host occasionally.

Okay, now for some funny stuff.

There was a singer-songwriter who very seriously sang his composition that included the the rhyme, “My father was a carpenter; he used to work on houses. He’d come home every evening with sawdust in his trouses [trousers].”

Another fellow sang about the green rolling hills of New Jersey. There are probably green rolling hills there, but it struck me as funny.

There was the Eefer. He couldn’t speak, but he could “eef” and bang on a guitar that had three or four strings.  For example, he sang “Eef eef eef eef eef eef eef” to the tune of “Mar-y had a lit-tle lamb.” I often thought that guy was planted by the host.

Once, two would-be stars came in, each carrying his guitar in a black plastic garbage bag. As one was leaving the pub with his bag, the other thought his instrument was being stolen and dove from the barstool, tackling the poor fellow who was just carrying his own guitar.

Fiddlin’ Andy Martin, Neil Harpe, and I tried out our old-time stringband on the Gallagher’s crowd. After we played a fiddle tune and a song called “Stuck My Finger in the Duck’s Eyeball,” a man in a business suit approached us and asked, “Excuse me gentlemen, is that country music you’re playing?” We just about fell out, laughing. Andy said, “Well it sure as hell ain’t city music!”

Those were the days.

Another great open mic was hosted by Jeanne Walters at La Stresa restaurant in Rockville, Maryland. There, I met Jim Barnett, guitar virtuoso and singer extraordinaire. We started the Montgomery County Ramblers, a bluegrass band that played together for several years. La Stresa had its moments too:

An aspiring star created a parody of the Flatt & Scruggs classic, “Hot Corn Cold Corn,” only the title of his masterpiece was “Hot Porn Cold Porn.” I shall not divulge the rest of the lyrics.

That’s enough for today, but I hope I left you with the notion that it’s a blast to meet and play with other musicians. It’s so much more rewarding than sitting at home practicing alone all the time. As we strive to perfect our craft, we sometimes forget the enjoyment as we pursue the employment.

Photos:

1. Gallagher’s Pub

2. A souvenir form La Stresa

Tom Mindte

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Gallagher’s Pub

A souvenir from La Stresa restaurant