performance

That was the best semi-unplugged electric rock set i’ve ever played with Zina on brushes for the first time and, technically, laryngitis.

That’s the summation of this story, but it’s not the whole of it.

When Gina and I were getting confident about Arcati Crisis (generally defined as starting with learning “Apocalyptic Love Song”) we made a list of all of the open mics in the area and tried to go to a new one every month. Some of them were utter trainwrecks. Others were so snooty we never really clicked.

Also, there is the possibility that sometimes we were terrible.

In this campaign of taking Philly by storm we happened upon Studio Luloo, which is actually in Oaklyn, NJ. It was a row-home-width first floor with a couch and chairs placed nose-to-nose with a stage area ready for a four-piece band. Owner and host Sara O’Brien cultivated a total open door policy for her local community, which meant we saw studied experts as well as kids playing in front of people for the first time. She also bought us all pizza. The featured artist was our now-compatriot Ryan Williams and their monitor mix was superb.

We were hooked on Luloo. We later returned as a featured artist (maybe around when we started playing “Better”), but hadn’t been back since we graduated to Zina on drums.

A few weeks ago I noticed Sara and co-conspirator John Shaughnessy talking about a new space for Luloo that would allow them to broaden their mission of bringing arts to kids in the community, and I asked if that meant they needed some featured artists. Thus, we found ourselves in Oaklyn last night playing a full band appearance in a Luloo’s new converted retail shop front, adjoining a pizza parlor.

(This was after Jake and I mistakenly wandered into a children’s dance studio, where I realized our repeated peeking in to ascertain if it possibly doubled as Luloo surpassed looking out-of-place to cross-over to appearing slightly lecherous.)

The new Luloo is at least three times the size as the old one, has room to talk and mingle, and an actual raised stage with a bonus drum riser in the back! Plus, all the same welcoming vibe from John and Sara, who hold casual chats with the performers on stage and never let them leave without a chant of “One! More! Song!”

While we enjoyed  unofficial house band Best Wishes knock out a special acoustic set, Sara leaned over my shoulder. “You have drums now, huh?” she asked. I affirmed that we indeed did.

Apparently, Sara was easing into the noise-at-night situation with her new neighbors, and we trying to put the rocked up open mic acts earlier in the evening. Except, we are rocked up and the evening was no longer early.

Not wanting Zina’s commute to go to waste, Best Wishes graciously bowed out after two songs to allow us to set up and make with the rocking at the most reasonable volume we could muster.

What made this interesting was (a) I was still on the tail-end of my laryngitis after largely not speaking for four days, so wasn’t entirely sure I could rock at all, and (b) Zina would apparently be playing with brushes, which I didn’t even realize she owned. To accommodate, our electric was turned down to unplugged levels, and Jake was similarly quiet on bass. We were at half the volume of a rehearsal.

It turned out to be a perfect combination. While I was a bit awkward on electric for Gina’s “American Michaela,” our debut of “End With Me” felt incredibly right. “Real End” resolved from a swirling mix of guitars to a swelling rock song. “Better” regained its sometimes elusive sighing resign thanks to the brushed drums and me going easy on my voice. We closed with a measured “Apocalyptic Love Song” less like a lament and more like a warning.

We ended with a full-band interview with Sara (everyone kept stealing “David Bowie” as an influence and favorite album, so my answers were Tracy Bonham and Like a Virgin, respectively). We stayed for another hour or so, until the open mic wound down to friends sitting around a table trading songs. It will take Sara a few months to build the community at the new Luloo to match what she had at the old one, and I’m really happy became a part of it so early.

Studio Luloo celebrates its fifth anniversary on Saturday. It is located at 215 W. Clinton Ave., Oaklyn, New Jersey. It is not the dance studio or the pizza parlor.

Part of the fun of being in a small-time, mostly-acoustic, folk-tinged, dance-rock band is the unusual places we get to play.

I think Saturday’s gig at All Fired Up might be our new current title-holder. We were set up in the middle of a pottery shop, surrounded by shelves of plates, mugs, and the visages of Disney characters. On every side were arts and crafts tables filled with eager painters customizing their pieces.

I can’t even think of a runner-up, really (Dorian’s Parlor doesn’t count, since we’d probably have been there anyway even if we weren’t playing).

This was our first outing with Jake on bass, as well as our first time using the new PA system for a show, and our first time playing our new cover, Erasure’s “Respect.”

Oh, and our first time playing a three hour gig in over a year.

Plenty for us to fuck up.

Except, Arcati Crisis has recently entered into a period of ineffable grace… or, at least, unfuck-upable zen. We played all three hours down to the minute, and we played them well.

Out of the gate, our “Dumbest Thing I Could Do” finally felt like a real acoustic dance song with Jake’s creeping arpeggiated scale bass line. We reinvented “Real End” yet again, debuting its new upbeat pop take engineered by our drummer Zina. We debuted our Rock Band 3 style “Space Oddity” with each of us singing a different part of the story, and ended on a rather triumphant duo take on “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Afterwards we gave an impromptu encore supporting Jake when he medleyed into Weezer’s “Say It Ain’t So” from The Wood Brothers’ “Luckiest Man.”

The part I liked the best was our audience. Actually, the lack thereof. Unlike a bar or coffee shop, people don’t come to All Fired Up to spectate – they come to create! At no point were we playing to an attentive audience, because everyone was spread around the shop, busy decorating their various works of pottery.

I actually prefer a busy, captive audience to any other kind. It’s easier to convert strangers who are doing something they enjoy than to pit your sound against jaded ears at an open mic or who are waiting for the next band.

While I love getting our full-scale rock on at a big venue in Philly, I’ll be disappointed if our songs ever grow to the point that we can’t bring them to these unusual spaces.