ADVENTURES OF AN OPEN-MIKER: Lickety Split

Zoe Bachman As the first open-mic blogger I know of, I'm officially declaring "open-mic" a verb. This week, I open-miked at Lickety Split, a long and narrow upstairs bar with the smell of pizza dough wafting up from downstairs and a good indie-pop mix on the stereo. The gregarious host was Kelvin Cochrane of the Absolute Zeros (get it? Kelvin, absolute zero? It's science). With about 20 people in the bar, it felt full, with a remarkably friendly ambiance. I sat at the back, not expecting to socialize much—but as Kelvin made the rounds around the room, his enthusiasm was contagious, and there was much chatter. Sign-ups were mostly in the hour before showtime, though as latecomers arrived throughout the night, they grabbed later slots, running up to about 1 a.m. The show began promptly at 9—impressive for an open mic, in my experience. As our host reminded us, musicians make a habit of tardiness (I'm no exception: I straggled in after missing my train from the suburbs). But no matter: from my vantage point at the back, things sounded good. The sound system was excellent: crisp and powerful without being painfully loud. Performances were mostly acoustic music, with a bit of spoken word and a bit of electronica. Each performer was allotted three songs in 15-minute appearances, while a featured performer got a half-hour slot in the middle of the night. Kelvin kept the atmosphere light and the show moving with hearty welcomes for each act, perched on a small stage at the front of the bar. We listened to a gentleman who introduced himself only as Nathan and offered a sad tune called "Girl on the Radio." An original song built on bright and punchy chords, it rose to a rollicking climax: "the airwaves are full of longing." High-school student Bob LoRusso, a newcomer, lent a sweet, light voice to several originals reminiscent of a cross between Jack Johnson and Jason Mraz. A standout song, "Children," lamented a wired world that keeps kids from "be[ing] kids." The featured act, called South, gave their debut performance at the bar. A three-piece with driving bass, South incorporated Billy Corgan-esque vocals over slow, rich bluesy grooves. By the end of the night, as I dashed off to make my train home, the mood was exceptionally jovial. Fellow open-mikers: this is one to try. The nitty gritty for performers: Tuesdays, 9 p.m., Lickety Split, 401 South St. 215-413-3434. Free entry, three songs each. Drink specials: $5 for a Yuengling plus a shot of Jameson's, $5 margaritas.

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ADVENTURES OF AN OPEN-MIKER: Lickety Split

POSTED: Thursday, February 3, 2011, 5:00 PM

Zoe Bachman

As the first open-mic blogger I know of, I'm officially declaring "open-mic" a verb. This week, I open-miked at Lickety Split, a long and narrow upstairs bar with the smell of pizza dough wafting up from downstairs and a good indie-pop mix on the stereo. The gregarious host was Kelvin Cochrane of the Absolute Zeros (get it? Kelvin, absolute zero? It's science). With about 20 people in the bar, it felt full, with a remarkably friendly ambiance. I sat at the back, not expecting to socialize much—but as Kelvin made the rounds around the room, his enthusiasm was contagious, and there was much chatter. Sign-ups were mostly in the hour before showtime, though as latecomers arrived throughout the night, they grabbed later slots, running up to about 1 a.m. The show began promptly at 9—impressive for an open mic, in my experience. As our host reminded us, musicians make a habit of tardiness (I'm no exception: I straggled in after missing my train from the suburbs). But no matter: from my vantage point at the back, things sounded good. The sound system was excellent: crisp and powerful without being painfully loud. Performances were mostly acoustic music, with a bit of spoken word and a bit of electronica. Each performer was allotted three songs in 15-minute appearances, while a featured performer got a half-hour slot in the middle of the night. Kelvin kept the atmosphere light and the show moving with hearty welcomes for each act, perched on a small stage at the front of the bar. We listened to a gentleman who introduced himself only as Nathan and offered a sad tune called "Girl on the Radio." An original song built on bright and punchy chords, it rose to a rollicking climax: "the airwaves are full of longing." High-school student Bob LoRusso, a newcomer, lent a sweet, light voice to several originals reminiscent of a cross between Jack Johnson and Jason Mraz. A standout song, "Children," lamented a wired world that keeps kids from "be[ing] kids." The featured act, called South, gave their debut performance at the bar. A three-piece with driving bass, South incorporated Billy Corgan-esque vocals over slow, rich bluesy grooves. By the end of the night, as I dashed off to make my train home, the mood was exceptionally jovial. Fellow open-mikers: this is one to try. The nitty gritty for performers: Tuesdays, 9 p.m., Lickety Split, 401 South St. 215-413-3434. Free entry, three songs each. Drink specials: $5 for a Yuengling plus a shot of Jameson's, $5 margaritas.

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