"I threw up three times."
"I still can't look the audience in the eye."
"I always shake when I play."
According to local open-mike performers, being nervous is a part of the show. But they also agree that when the music is right, it's all worth it.
"That first time people clap for you, it's like 'awwww, yeah,'" says Chris Tafoya, a 27-year-old guitarist playing at Stooges Sports Pub in Scottsdale.
"Some nights we have a lot of fun, some nights we just don't have it. But that's how music is. We play a lot better when there's a big crowd around. You play off the crowd."
Stooges is obscured in the midst of construction in the strip mall the bar shares with a 99-cent store and other businesses. Getting through the hard-hat area to the front door is almost as difficult as getting famous by performing at open-mike nights.
"I'm an eighth-grade schoolteacher," Tafoya says. "I've kinda gotten past the wild dreams of being on MTV."
Tafoya hosts the open-mike night at Stooges and plays in a three-man band calling itself the Jerusalem Crickets - at least for this performance - after the giant crickets in California that chirp in tune. Tafoya grew up with members of the groups At the Drive-In and Sparta and has even toured with them a couple times.
"I grew up and dropped out of the bands," he says. "I figure that's as close as I'm going to get."
That disappearance of fame from the horizon doesn't stop Tafoya and his band mates, Tyler Hobbs, 22, and Tracy Mortimer, 40, from acting a little like pretentious rock stars.
"Hey, Al, we want some lights on us!" Tafoya yells to the Stooges owner on a Thursday night as the Crickets play covers of various bands. "We want some girls in leotards up here dancing, too," he jokes. "Work it out by Saturday."
Warming up
Joking on the microphone is part of an open-mike host's job. It helps to loosen up newcomers, says Marconias, host of Coffee Cabana's weekly open-mike night on Tuesdays in Mesa.
The 45-year-old lab technician has been playing guitar in the Valley for almost 20 years but has hosted Coffee Cabana's open-mike night for just four months.
"My first couple of weeks I had about four people here," he says. "I ended up playing half the night by myself, but word spread around quick."
Marconias now gets newcomers to the night every week. He takes their pictures and posts them on www.marconias.com, so, at least on the Internet, they're a little famous.
"I had to turn people away last week," he says. Each performer gets about 10 to 15 minutes to perform three songs.
Garrett Brunson, bartender at The Lucky Dragon in Tempe, knows what it's like to host an open-mike without any takers. Brunson initiated the restaurant's open-mike after spending time at a bar in San Diego that had a similar event.
"I talked to the owner here and he thought it was a good idea," Brunson says.
The open-mike night is just three weeks old, occurring every Thursday except the first week of the month.
"We're not really drawing the crowd that I'd like," he says.
Brunson thinks the problem is a lack of equipment. "If we had instruments here, we might get more musicians. Last week I had a couple of guitarists come by and they said they'd play if we had instruments, but we didn't."
Still, Brunson is trying to recruit for the night. "I've been going down to the music building at ASU and also trying to get the punk bands that have gigs here to promote their shows by playing open-mike," he adds.
Few rules
"I always encourage people to do their own stuff," Marconias says. "The owner here has booked people to play Saturday nights by just hearing them once at open-mike."
He also encourages everyone to relax and enjoy themselves.
"It's kind of important just to loosen up and have fun," Marconias says. "Rule No. 1: Loosen up. I try to get up there and play some silly song like 'Ring of Fire,' to get everyone having fun. Rule No. 2: Practice and go for it. That's my open-mike philosophy."
Other than that, there are very few rules for open-mike nights, he says. "There are no rules other than 'no drums,'" he says of Coffee Cabana's open-mike night. "Takes too damn long to set up."
Stooges' open-mike night allows drums, but Tafoya asks that performers tune their instruments before taking the stage.
"We ask that you have your guitar tuned before you get up here," Tafoya says. "No one likes to listen to a guy tune all night."
The open-mike nights are pretty informal, especially at Coffee Cabana, where the equipment is sparse - just mikes, amps and a mixer.
The performers try out new licks on their guitars, laugh when they forget the words, tell jokes, borrow guitar picks and trade instrument-buying tips while on stage.
Community of musicians
Local open-mike nights generate a lot of regulars, the hosts say.
"Tempe guitar players all know each other, all know what's going on," Marconias says.
Mortimer, bassist for the Jerusalem Crickets, echoes that feeling. "Local musicians get together to pass gigs around. On prime [open-mike] nights, like Saturdays, those are more to help people who are just getting started," he says. "But on off-nights established musicians will come and play."
Tafoya says, though, that more experienced musicians hog the mike.
"Sometimes bands tend to get kind of an attitude," he says.
And then there are those who think they're a golden god of a rock star only after a few pints.
"We all drink in here. No one's too judgmental," Tafoya says. "But sometimes it turns into karaoke night, which we don't like. Especially if they've been drinking, they think they can just jump up on the stage and grab the mike."
Still, Tafoya encourages new talent.
"We like all types of music," he says. "We encourage creativity, it'd be cool to get someone with turntables in here. I've gone to a lot of open-mikes where it's uncomfortable.
"It really screws you up because it makes you nervous."
Robin Graves says that the opportunity to network with other musicians was what drew him to open-mike nights about two years ago. The 34-year-old chef had been playing guitar and writing songs for 16 years but never performed his own material in front of an audience.
"Whenever I get a day off, I'll find someplace that has an open-mike night," he says. Graves plays his original music and would like to get a group together.
"I only know, like, four covers, and even those people have probably never heard of them," Graves says. "I need to get it [his music] out there, just basically for practice and to get used to performing in front of people.
"I still get nervous, but I can play pretty much without screwing up now."
There are those, too, who don't seem to get nervous under the spotlight at all.
Marconias recalls a performer from a few weeks back.
"We had this girl in here who couldn't have been more than 15, and her dad or uncle played guitar while she sang," he says. "She could just sing. She didn't stand behind the mike like she was scared of it, she grabbed it, swung it around and belted it out."
Mortimer also says he doesn't get nervous on stage.
"I did my first professional gig at 13," he says. "I've always been kind of a ham, so I don't have a problem with being nervous."
Fun for the whole family
For Sam Wilkes, open-mike nights run in the family.
Wilkes started playing the gigs six weeks ago after seeing his 45-year-old dad, John, play at Coffee Cabana. Sam attended ASU for a while, but dropped out to pursue music and theater. He has his own theater company, the Bright Angel Players, which has performed at the Mesa Arts Center.
Wilkes sings with his friend Matt Gilbert, 15, at open-mike nights at Coffee Cabana and Coffee Talk in Mesa. The duo sings mostly covers, but will begin to play their own stuff at gigs at the two coffee shops in October.
"We sang one song together and that was it," Sam says. "We just had to keep doing it."
Gilbert is a junior at Apache Junction High School and just got his learner's permit to drive a car. He's been playing guitar for about two years, but was inspired to perform locally after watching Sam's dad play.
"I do it just for the music," he says. But, "fame is a nice thing. I wouldn't mind it."
John Wilkes, a Mesa carpenter, says fame is always in the back of any open-mike performer's mind.
"I think we all really want that," says John Wilkes, who has been playing guitar locally for more than 20 years. "I'm seeking fame in some form or another.
"I get nervous, but it feels natural to me. I love music because it comes more from the inside than the outside."
John Wilkes says both carpentry and music allow him to show his creative side.
"It's cool to express yourself. And I'm the type that needs that so I don't kill people," he says with a laugh.
Performing locally is a family affair, too, for Lisa Brugliera, 18, and her dad, Sebastian, 50. Daughter hosts Jolta Java's open-mike night at 14418 N. Scottsdale Road on Saturdays, while Dad looks on and helps coordinate acts.
Lisa has been playing guitar since age 10, singing since 12 and performing at open-mike nights since she was 14. She's a full-time musician at 18 simply because she knows how to market herself to get gigs, she says.
"To me, it's a no-brainer. You drop off your demo CD and bug them until they hire you," Lisa says. "I have a very business state of mind."
Female musicians like Lisa are beginning to populate open-mike nights, she says. The type of "girl-with-guitar" rock stars like Michelle Branch and Sheryl Crow have inspired a legion of imitators at local nights.
"We get a lot of young girls," Lisa says. "It's still unusual, but they're getting out there. It's getting really popular."
Lisa began to host the coffee house's night last February and says it has turned out well.
"It's really iffy for an owner to start an open-mike night," she says. "It's nervous for them because you never know what you're going to get up here on stage. Everybody could be really awful."
From soccer dad to rock star
Jolta Java's stage is usually filled on Saturday nights with a good mix of newbies and closet rock stars - like Lisa's dad. Sebastian played the guitar when he was younger, but put it down when family responsibilities made being an attorney seem more appealing than rock stardom.
Then, for his 40th birthday, his sister, an employee for Fender guitars, bought him an amp to go with the dusty guitar he hadn't touched in 30 years.
"I didn't pick it up seriously again until I turned 40," after his children were pretty much grown, he says. "My family was shocked. Nobody knew I could really sing."
Sebastian says open-mike nights around the Valley are filled with performers like him.
"We get a lot of guys my age," he says. "They get married, they have families. But then when they're through with soccer and basketball and the kids grow up, they get to do their music again. They do their own thing."
Closet rock stars like Sebastian help to create a family atmosphere at local open-mike nights, he says.
"It's a lot of people maybe who had aspirations of being a performer before their family commitments called," he says. "Now their family and friends get to see them doing something they love to do. It's a way to get together. And the coffee houses make it a clean, safe environment."
Lisa agreed that there's a definite sense of community at local nights.
"It's like a bar crowd, like Cheers," she says. "It's a little community at each one of these things. You develop your crowd, I guess."
Lisa adds that the community atmosphere helps newcomers get up on stage.
"You're never going to do it until you do it the first time," she says. "It's not necessarily amateur night, but everybody knows it's your first time up. Say you're not good enough to play on your own for two hours at a gig, but you want to play out. It's a nice place to bring the family. It's a good place to start for musicians who are wanting to get back into it."
Just doing their thing
Cindy Early performs at open-mikes because she finds it therapeutic.
And the 31-year-old massage therapist should know what's relaxing. She's been playing guitar and singing covers at open-mikes for about a year, and says she used to write, but found music a better outlet for stress.
"When you write something down, it's really solidified," she says. "Music is more universal. I enjoy playing for my well-being.
"At first, I was really shy and the host would pick what I played for me. Now I'm able to pick and choose what I want to sing and play."
Early performed at Stooges the same night as the Jerusalem Crickets, and the atmosphere was jovial. In the middle of the Crickets' cover of "Feel like Makin' Love," by Bad Company, a man who calls himself "Sheik Daddy" jumps on stage to wail the chorus, "Feel like makin' love ... tooooo yooooou."
After his impromptu performance, he regales the audience with his open-mike philosophy: "The difference between a blues jam and open-mike is at a blues jam, you play the blues, you cry," he says. "But open-mike...you just do your thing."
As Sheik Daddy jumps off stage, the Crickets resume their "chirping."
You can almost hear all the other open-mike performers at nights across the Valley: some nervous; some not; some almost famous; and some just doing it to keep from killing people.
Like an orchestra of crickets chirping in time, just doing their thing.
Reach the reporter at sara.thorson@asu.edu.
