Sometimes the night has something else in mind for you -- especially when you're visiting New York.
The original plan was to meet up with some old friends for dinner, then head home. They've got a newborn so it ended up being an earlier visit. After a great catch-up, we decide to head to Pete’s Candy Store to see one of my oldest friends, Jack, who is hosting the Sunday night open mic.
Open mic energy can be chaos wrapped in courage -- it's a mix of anticipation and excitement. Seasoned artists test new material, while newcomers brave the stage for the first time. It's a real grab bag, but that's part of what makes it shine.
When we arrive, an older man is playing a bluesy tune on his cherry red hollow-body guitar. He’s foreign and explains that he’s very new to the city and is thankful for the stage and opportunity. It’s a simple but honest moment, and I appreciate being able to share it.
He’s the last performer, but Jack sees us as we walk in, and his eyes light up.
Pete's Candy Store is a staple in the NYC music scene - they’re celebrating their 25th anniversary. It’s a smaller bar in Brooklyn, but with their intimate backroom hosting (always free) live music every night, they’re an important anchor in the community.
The stage is in the backroom, a tight and narrow space that feels like the belly of a ship. It has no choice but to feel intimate—anyone who enters the space is immediately connected to the performer and everyone else there. Small-bulb lights line the rounded façade of the stage, evoking an old carnival setting.
Jack closes with 'California', a song we've played together through many iterations of our friendship.
We grab beers, and the ancient ritual of hugs, cajoling, and catching up commence. A few beers later, the sound of a new band playing slips from the backroom. Curiosity grabs me; I snatch my camera and make my way back.
Gone is the lone singer-songwriter. Instead, a ferocious three-piece band commands the stage. The crowd is fully captured—the band swirling them with their magnetic energy. Brutal riffs, blistering beats, and on top of it all, a powerful and piercing female vocalist. It's their first show and they're young. Nothing matters but right now. It’s unadulterated, unpretentious, and seriously fucking awesome.
The tiny room, barely big enough for six people across, is brimming with energy. It’s 30 degrees outside, but here, sweat drips from the collective—everyone’s packed in, focused, and moving as a singular feeling.
In the back of the room, I climb on top of a chair and snap some photos. Quickly, I realize there’s nothing to it but to get in the mix.
My face twitches between pure joy and surprise, my brain uncertain which emotion will win. It doesn’t matter—I’m where I’m supposed to be.
