Welcome to the Living Room Open Mic
When I leaned over to Rob at our weekly ‘ukulele jam and declared to him that we should create our own open mic, it never occurred to me what that would actually mean. I thought I was creating a place where I could play for an audience and I had no idea what kind of identity it would evolve into. And keep in mind that I had very little context around what an open mic even was…
Have you ever been to a concert and know that your life changed? My mind had been blown wide open after I saw Brandi Carlile at Red Rocks, which in of itself was a fantastic and cathartic experience. I woke up the next day with my heart full and knew that I wanted to perform in front of an audience again.
As a music student and marching band member, there were no shortage of performances to fill my days, and they only evolved as I became a band and orchestra director. After a particularly hard season, though, I walked away from music for what I thought was forever. (So dramatic, I know!)
Brandi’s concert reminded me why I loved performing and that I needed to guide my way back to playing music the way it made sense to me. Subconsciously when I began playing the ‘ukulele I was already going back to my music space, but then I definitively knew I wanted to perform in front of people. And so my rock star journey began with these mysterious events called open mics. Yes, it’s true–I really didn’t know what one was, or the format or what to do, so I asked Rob.
Here’s what I learned:
Typical open mics are held on weeknights, usually in a bar (21+), and musicians arrive before it begins to determine when they go on. Performers have 15 minutes or the standard 3 song set per slot, and there can be anywhere between 7 and sixteen slots, depending on the venue (and time). The host sometimes gets paid, sometimes doesn’t. What seemed to be the least desirable to me was having to drive into town (Boulder, or Longmont) and go to a bar late on a weeknight. Time in front of a microphone was important to me, but not as important as time with my family. I chose convenience when I said, “We should make our own open mic right here.”
Luckily for me, he agreed it was a good idea, and began to create the application with the Town of Superior. Rob does all of the leg work and I will always give him 100% credit! We went on an open mic research tour so I could get my feet wet playing at my first open mic, and we could decide what format and vibe we wanted for our project.
First, since ours was going to be in a community center, we could lower the performer’s age to fifteen, potentially attracting his private lesson students and high school musicians. The Community Center as a venue is superb! The acoustics are perfect for this type of performance–full and deep. The mural on the wall as a backdrop showcases everyone on the stage. Since we have to get out by 8:00 p.m., there’s even time to get dinner afterwards. Signups begin at 5:30, but we usually begin to see friends at 5. Almost everyone brings some dinner! There are 7 fifteen minute slots, not including the Super Secret Soundcheck Set, at 5:45 p.m. And, we decided to host them every 2nd and 4th Wednesday.
Our first open mic was May 10th 2023.
During the first year, what started as a simple open mic quickly grew into a genuine community gathering. Familiar faces began showing up week after week, and the room developed its own rhythm as regulars formed connections and supported one another. Along the way, I learned how to run sound, which turned out to be incredibly rewarding and gave me a new appreciation for what it takes to create a welcoming, professional space for performers. And somewhere in that year, I forgot that the project was ever about me at all—it became about the musicians on stage, sharing their songs and cheering each other on, in a room that was proudly and joyfully “ukulele-heavy!”
Rob and I threw our open mic a First birthday party, and nodding to the Hawaiian tradition of naming a baby at its first birthday, our open mic became The Living Room. We named our open mic The Living Room because it reflects the feeling we wanted to create—one where friends become family. Just like a real living room, it’s a space that’s warm, welcoming, and a little imperfect in the best way. People come as they are, settle in, listen closely, and cheer each other on. There’s comfort, laughter, and the freedom to take creative risks without fear of judgment. Over time, the space has seen familiar faces, shared personal stories, and heard music that feels personal, making The Living Room not just a place to perform, but a place to belong.
What began as a project that was mostly self-serving has grown into something far bigger than I ever imagined. The Living Room started as a way for me to create space to play, practice, and build confidence, but over time it evolved into a true community music project. Week after week, it is a place where people feel welcomed, supported, and encouraged to share their music with each other. Watching that transformation has been one of the most meaningful parts of my journey.
Now, more than two years in, The Living Room feels less like something we run and more like something we all belong to. It continues to thrive because of the musicians, listeners, and brave first-timers who walk through the door and make it their own. Seeing it sustain itself—and knowing it’s likely to continue for the foreseeable future—is both humbling and deeply rewarding. What started as a personal experiment has become a living, breathing community, and I’m grateful to be part of it.
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