When it comes to playing my guitar and singing, I’m what my grandfather would have called a “ham and egger”.
I know ABOUT music, and I’ve been at it for quite a while, learning to play guitar and sing a bit…but, like most things, knowing about it and being able to do it well are two very different things, and the gap between them is hours and hours of work. No exceptions.
I practice about 2 hours per week, on average. Someone competent probably does that daily. My playing reflects that. Plus, if I get up on a stage and try to play a song and sing it in front of people, I’m wracked with terror.
What could possibly go wrong?
Ploughman Cider Taproom on the Gettysburg Square has hosted an open mic night on Wednesdays for a year now, as of last week. When it started, I was intrigued and terrified, since it was an obvious chance for me to spruce up my fingers and voice and finally get up there. That’s the good and the horrifying, all at once.
Now, it’s not just a group of karaoke people who also play an instrument and want to get tipsy and belt out “sweet caroline” with their buddies…that might be fun as hell on a given night, but no; it turns out this isn’t that. And it wouldn’t have gone on for a year if it were.
It started with a core group of amazingly talented musicians. Gigging pros and those aspiring to that, people like me who want very badly to do it for the love of it, and much in between. But everyone is supported and cheered loudly, and everyone’s glad you came whether you play or not (but they WANT you to get your ass up there, make no mistake). That core group was 4 or 5 regulars to start with, but over the winter into the fall, it grew to double that. For people who are there so regularly, it’s odd if they don’t show on a given day. On top of that, there are others who make it when they can, but every time they do, they’re cheered when they walk in the door.
Rob is the coordinator, managing sound and the sign-up list and starting out the set with his own stuff, usually at least half original songs. He also happens to book acts throughout town. The music community in Gettysburg is startlingly vibrant and close-knit, and Rob’s no small part of that. His start-up of the sets every night sets a relaxed, friendly, and fun tone that has grown this to a gathering that we all look forward to every week.
The bartender makes a point of not planning things in his life that would cause him to have to miss a night. So do i.
Some of the regulars are an incredibly skilled 12-string player with a sincere baritone like if Darth Vader was a benign, spiritual therapist. He plays like a living metronome, his guitar sounds like several at once, and his voice makes you listen even if the bartender is going on about a skate park at the same time.
There’s a lady who sings like an angel, and has just started gigging herself, with a triumphant set at Ploughmans a few weeks ago. Seeing her enhance her skills and build up her repertoire over the months was a treat.
Other very seasoned pros come in regularly, not least of which being Ben, who owns the place, and the legendary Cuz, who holds court and will sit in with his harmonicas if you’re lucky. Every Wednesday has the potential to be a true event that you’ll be talking about for weeks after. In fact, that lady I mentioned earlier wrote a song about the scene that revolves around Cuz, and I’m honored to have a call out, along with about a dozen others.
As for me, well, I’ve gotten up there and sang a few times with indulgent friends like Rob and Mike… that was fun and took the edge off the existential terror. And yeah, I’ve brought my guitar a couple of times. It was as terrible as you’re imagining, but everyone treated me as if it wasn’t, encouraging me to keep doing it, telling me it was about damn time, and talking to me about it after; telling me I need to get back up there again soon.
They may be wrong that I was any good, but its like family. They make fun, encourage, and make sure you know you’re part of it all. Not a bad place to poke your head in on a Wednesday if you’re on the square, to be sure.
Tom Dudra is a local music nerd and civil war bore. He writes about local music, as well as essays and fiction about the civil war era. He is often found on the battlefield with Grant, his vicious basset war hound.