The Goddess Pam, glowing in action on the stage.

Last Thursday night was my first spin at co-hosting Open Mic at The Venue on 35th. As expected, it was great. It got me thinking: What is it that makes this Open Mic so different from all other Open Mics?

I’ve been sitting in the audience for a couple years now, off and on, and as much as the regular attendees shift and change, the vibe doesn’t. You can never know what to expect at any given Thursday night at the venue. You can however always expect to be surprised.
To give you a slight idea of just how eclectic the mix of this place can be, allow me to share with you two controversial performances that kicked off the evening.

At the beginning of the night we had a self-proclaimed former hustler leading us in a chant of “When I say Jesus, you say Christ!” “Jesus.” “CHRIST!” “Jesus.” “CHRIST!” He told us a few times that we, the audience, seemed dead- and that we needed to “Get alive for God.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe not so much. Maybe the coffee just hadn’t kicked in yet.

Either way, he was noticeably let down by our lack of enthusiasm. You really can’t help but tug at your collar a bit when you’re in a non religious space filled with people of varying beliefs, and you’re being shouted at. At the same time, it’s that same feeling that fills the room when somebody reads an anti-war poem among folks of different political backgrounds. It’s the thickening of the air. All you can do is keep listening, and  rest assured that this’ll make for great coffee talk at the end of the night.

Fifteen minutes later we were all being danced for by Pam, a lovely middle-aged belly dancer with smiling eyes and a sparkly bra. Pam even went so far as to pull Jay Poetry, The Venue’s regular host, up on stage as part of her act. She then cajoled him into dancing around with her and removed his overshirt.

Oh yes. Scandal.

The ladies went wild. But what’s poignant to me here is that these two performances happened on the same stage, same night, same hour even. “Only at The Venue,” I’ve begun to mutter under my breath frequently. Why, you ask? I just can’t picture some of the things that happen at this place happening anywhere else in our area.

In addition to the aforementioned coercive would-be lap dancer and the evangelical rapper, there was a young guy sitting on a high stool singing along to a karaoke version of an obscure Hootie and the Blowfish song; a trio of girls singing a capella in three part harmony; and a man in his fifties in a suit jacket with coat-tails who sang Lionel Ritchie’s “Hello” for his new found soul mate.

Even among all the eccentricities that present themselves within the space, there is a dependable element at The Venue: there is an element of family in the cast of characters who you only start to understand once you’ve been coming for a number of weeks.

This is, of course, the case with just about any open mic. And I’ve been to most of the ones in this area so I can say it loud and proud. There’s something really special and here. Every week just before the incense-selling poetress, Roxanne, performs, a funny guy named Sheldon sings a rousing falsetto rendition of Sting’s “Roxanne” from the back of the room. Every week the entire crowd guffaws and sings along as Roxanne makes her way to the stage, shaking her head at the (unnecessary but somehow endearing) personalized intro music.

Every week Jay sits on stage while Nicki (who calls herself “Universal”) and reads a love poem, just to make her nervous. Every week Lisa sings strange and hilarious songs about things like jury duty, aging, chicken-love, and nosy window cleaners. Every week Jack reads some steamy poem that somehow manages to take the mundane and make it shimmer.

Every week Mama makes consistently delicious coffee in the back and comes up to me at the end of the night to tell me, quietly, how much she liked the song I sang. Every week Brenda sings a song that holds even more soul then the one she sang the week prior. Every week, Davey gets up at the end of the night to read something heavy and honest, and never fails to raise an eyebrow or to receive thunderous applause.

Every week I meet someone new, whose talents and perspectives astound me. It’s been that way since the first night I came.

Ultimately, one of the most alluring things about the venue to me is its size. It’s a fairly small space. There couldn’t possibly be room for everyone who stumbles across this article to show up on the same night.  I think that’s part of what we all love about it. We know that we are among the privileged just to sit here and listen. We know there’s a whole slew of people who drive by us on 35th street each week, and never know we’re there. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing exactly.

But if you really want to put a finger on the pulse of what we’re REALLY growing on these old dark Norfolk streets, then I challenge you, reader. Stop by The Venue sometime. You just might find something you’ve been looking for around here for years.

Open Mic at The Venue happens every Thursday night. Doors open at 730pm and the Open Mic usually runs from 8-11. Cost is a small, ‘pay what you can’ donation at the door.