Open Mic Nights at the Cornish Arms

Open Mic Nights at the Cornish Arms

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Posted 2014-04-24 by AJTacofollow


I am a comedian, and have done somewhere in the area of four-hundred gigs in the last two-and-a-half years. Two of my five worst gigs ever have been at the open mic night on Mondays in the Cornish Arms Hotel, Sydney Rd, Brunswick.

Now that sounds bad, but let me back-pedal for a second here, this open mic night is great to perform at, and even better if you're just watching. I'll tell you why in a bit, but before that I also want to explain about my awful gigs, and to do that you need to know that one of them was NOT my fault... but the other one definitely was.



The first one, the one that was my fault, was on the 6th of January 2014 – that date will be forever burned into my memory like a farmer's initials into leather. I had been away for almost three weeks and hadn't performed, or even really thought about comedy in that time, and I walked into the Cornish that night feeling confident and even a little... who are we kidding, I thought I was the MAN! Cockiness is a fatal mistake to make in front of any crowd, no matter what sort of performer you are, and an embarrassing one too. I only realised the folly of my conceit as I was walking off, heart and soul shattered, the audience left cringing, and avoiding eye contact... it's painful to remember, but I promise, we'll laugh together later.

The crowd at the Monday night Open Mics at the Cornish Arms is by no means an easy crowd to win over; there are plenty of tables spread out over the large room and the PA is loud enough that if they were all listening at the same time you could easily be reaching sixty-odd people. The thing is though they aren't listening, that's the default setting.



Music definitely works better here than comedy, or any sort of performance that requires people's full attention. My best guess is because music can easily be enjoyed on an ambient level, but if you are a performer that requires (or maybe DEMANDS!!) that people be listening intently, then be prepared to fight for that attention during the dinner rush. As an audience member though, this might better suit some people who would much prefer to be a passive listener while enjoying a casual meal with friends, or some drinks. The speakers outside are linked to the PA so you could even sit outside and stay completely out of sight.

As a comedian though, I am acutely aware of the inevitable fact that some people just want to be left alone at a show, they don't want to have to engage, or even listen on any level other than the occasional, "oh-that-was-great-well-done" clapping at the end of a song. If that sounds like you, then the Cornish Arms is the perfect show to go to early in the night the show goes on mainly in the background.


The second time I died on stage at the Cornish arms was sometime in late January 2014, a few weeks after my more crippling, soul-destroying, life-choice-re-evaluating experience on the 6th. I went up at 8:30pm, right when all sixty or so inhabitants of the pub were in the middle of their dinner conversations. No one wanted to listen to the musings of a lone 22-year-old on stage talking about how he can't pay rent at the pub he lives above. After yelling something profane out into the void in a last, desperate attempt to garner some attention, I looked to the sound guy and bar girl, who both laughed at me, and shrugged their shoulders. "Okay," I said, "I give up."

That was funny. That time, I had no chance.

On the 6th of January 2014, I went on at around 10pm, after the dinner rush had settled down and half of the people had left. The remainder at this time are much more attentive and willing to listen, and sometimes be talked to – musicians who like a bit of banter do well here, and of course for comedians, this is the time to give it a crack. So I went up and immediately started dying. Like, really dying. Bombing. They were listening, but they started wishing they weren't. I was swearing too much in my increasingly nervous state, and kept digging and digging and digging the hole and it got worse and worse and finally after five minutes of awful death... a baby at the back of the room started crying. CRYING!! HAH! Oh cruellest of cruel gods, I'm sure you amuse yourself.



Now I don't know whether babies can tell the difference between good or bad comedy, or whether the baby was even listening at all. Maybe it was a particularly discerning baby? Maybe the baby only liked one liners, or musical comedy, or sketch? Or maybe it just wasn't my night. Whatever happened that night, it was just another in a long line of identical lessons about performing – you can't win 'em all, and sometimes you lose. Hard.

But I went back, and continue to, because at the Cornish Arms Monday Open Mic Night, anything can happen, and that is half the fun.

#bars
#brunswick
#bucket_list
#comedy
#free
#humour
#inner_north_melbourne
#music
#performing_arts
%wnmelbourne
143454 - 2023-06-13 20:09:43

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