Butterflies & Microphones

by Mike Garrigan
Over the past month, we at the Creative Center have been preparing for our first open mic night.  The Showcase (as we are calling it) hopes to feature original songwriting from the area.

The first time I took center stage at an open mic night, I had butterflies. You know, that uneasy feeling, like there were a thousand caffeinated fairies dancing around in your gut, inching their way upward.

The Columbia Street Bakery in Chapel Hill, NC in the early nineties had a textbook open mic night—sign up at 7 pm, 10-minute time limit, first act at 8 pm, last act around 10:30 pm.

I remember getting to the Bakery at 6:30 pm, not knowing what to expect. The MC arrived at 6:50 pm. He wore a scarf (in late August) and appeared very theatrical.

At 7 pm, on the dot, a clipboard with a single sheet of yellow lined paper smacked a music stand. It was as loud as a firecracker. Then like a pack of wolves devouring prey, the entire clientele of the Bakery descended upon the list. It was sign-up time.

After the smoke cleared, I managed to get the 9:30 pm slot. I tried to sit patiently as I listened to the first few acts. I was extremely nervous. Was it that I was afraid to get up in front of others? Was it my insecurity about performing new, original songs? Was it simple idle fidgeting? It was probably a little of all of that.

“Hi, my name is Mike. Here is a song I wrote today.” My 10 minutes had begun. I made my way through two original songs. I received a good amount of support and applause. I sat down. The butterflies were gone.

I couldn’t wait for the next open mic. The next day, I began writing a new song for the next event. The next event became a regular thing for me. The regular thing turned into a career. A career in music has been a blessing beyond my wildest dreams. It all began with butterflies and a microphone.

Come join us for the Showcase on Friday, February 24th at 8 pm.  Sign up at 7 pm.

We hope you will attend. We hope you will share. Don’t worry about the butterflies. They go away.

 
Mike Garrigan
www.mikegarrigan.com
www.twoegrets.com