ednesday evening at Luthier’s Co-op in Easthampton, the open mic sign-up sheet is full and the room is brimming with anticipation. Would-be performers sit shyly by the door scoping out the scene while a core group of regulars cozies up to the stage. Tonight, everyone on the list gets their eight minutes of fame.
The only lights in the place are pointed directly at the stage, save for a few candles and string lights, which wrap around the back wall and entrance. Guitars of all shapes, sizes, specifications, and colors line nearly every square inch of wall space. With the red and green stage lighting reflecting off their shiny exteriors, the guitars have a dizzying effect on the eye. They look like dozens of open-mouthed jack-o-lanterns hooting along with the performers. The black-and-white checkered floor and patterned ceiling jibe with the co-op’s vintage vibe.
The performers, donning caps and sunglasses, sing soulful renditions of John Lee Hooker’s “Boom Boom” and Dandy Warhol’s “16 Tons” with closed eyes and, sometimes, gritted teeth. Others sing songs they have written themselves. “‘Dr. Dan,’” the night’s emcee, is enlisted by several to grace their performances with the wail of his harmonica.
They know each other here. They mention new jobs, dreams and lost loves before segueing into the music. “Some people have been asking me how my new job is,” says a female performer while strumming her guitar. “It’s my new job. It’ll be great in five years, I just hope I make it through this year.”
Musical fumbles are treated with compassion and encouragement. When Elizabeth “Missy” Doherty is dragged from her bartending duties to perform a song by the Cranberries, she struggles to tune the guitar to her needs and Steve Baer (one of the shop’s owners) jumps out from behind the sound desk to help her. Words of support surround the stage and the music resumes. “I got suckered into this,” Doherty adds.
Corina Miller, an Easthampton business owner, anxiously readies herself at the bar. She flips through a binder of her laminated songs, taking notes feverishly, and applies makeup with a compact mirror. Hearing her name, she waltzes to the microphone wearing a form-fitting leopard print dress and cowboy boots. Along the way, she places her laptop on a table in front of the stage to document the performance for her Youtube channel. “This one came to me in my sleep,” she starts, and begins to breathe her lyrics seductively into the microphone.
After one seemingly flawless performance, another musician descends from the stage, mumbling about his perceived imperfections. “When you gotta wait two hours to play, you get a little drunk,” he says.
The bar begins to empty after the last performance, and Baer busies himself with cleaning and closing. Baer says their open mic nights, seemingly the heart of the establishment, predate the bar and the liquor license as the co-op’s first regular events about three years ago. Interest in performing has been so high they added a second open mic night on Tuesdays to deal with the overflow.
Luthier’s—a guitar retail and repair shop by day, and bar and music venue by night—arrived on the scene just in time to play a major role in ushering in Easthampton’s recent resurgence of the arts. There appears to be no shortage of voices to be heard in this burgeoning arts community.
“For a lot of the folks who play here, this is the only place they play,” Baer says. “I think if we offer the community anything, it’s just giving local artists a place to play where they can potentially sound good and a place to hear free music.”•
