(photo courtesy of Steven Cohen)
The "Friday Night Hoot" at Java Jacks coffeehouse in "sexy South Minneapolis" just completed its first season the other night with an upbeat, celebratory, marathon evening featuring virtually everything that has made this series so enormously popular over the last seven months -- superb music, fetching stories, raw emotion, good juju and a communal bond between the participants that is almost corny in its power and authenticity. The lineup included some of the more notable performers from the series as well as a earthquake that still has people tittering.
The big surprise was an unannounced appearance by local legends Golden Smog, a "booking" that may seem like an enormous coup for this underground -- in almost every sense of the word -- event. However, anybody who's attended even a few of these things knows that almost anything is possible at "The Hoot." Indeed, one of the series' biggest thrills has been the joy of experiencing something you weren't expecting -- certainly not early on a Friday evening hidden away in a room that evokes a shotgun wedding of a bomb shelter and a basement rec room held in a speakeasy.
After a very low-key launch in the first week of November 2006, the weekly gatherings soon became known as "The Friday Night Hoot." The Hoot is the brainchild of The Mad Ripple (aka Mpls scribe/author/musician Jim Walsh). These performances started with the most modest of intentions. Before long, however, they became something of must-see event for insiders, hipsters and neighborhood locals. By almost any estimation, the hoots evolved into a tremendous success; the sum total of great music featured over the months has been staggering. Aside from the music, a key component of the hoots is the unique vibe, a strange brew of coffeehouse intimacy, underground chic, speakeasy naughtiness and rec room bonhomie. The lines between performer and listener were compellingly shattered every week -- audience participation was encouraged if not demanded, evoking dusty memories of the days when folk music existed in a world of its own, long before the 60s musical revolution when previously disparate genres started cross-breeding like kissin' cousins.
Devotees often refer to "The Hoot" in quasi-mystical terms -- and they're usually only half-joking. In a short time it's acquired many of the characteristics of organized religion or even a cult: a mythology, a set of rituals, a self-referencing internal logic -- everything short of a secret handshake, although regular attendees greet each other with knowing familiarity even if they've never taken the effort to formally introduce themselves.
The performers featured during The Hoot's first season ran the gamut in almost every respect -- from Grammy award winners to undiscovered hopefuls vying to be the next Bob Dylan. Or Conor Oberest. After just a few weeks, it became apparent that this event had tapped into an abundant reservoir of talent in these twin towns, talent that frequently was flying under the radar and/or bore little resemblance to what's going on out in Pitchfork/Indie-world. While it's always fun to see someone doing an acoustic turn when it's not their usual bag, the hoots have also proudly displayed a plethora of talent who woulda been right at home back in the golden days long before "Hootenanny" became known as the name of a Replacements record.
And if the consistently good music at the hoots didn't draw ya in, the abundant good spirits present every week would. Stories and tall tales spilled forth from the stage faster than you can say "Jamesons Irish Whisky," tons of kids had free reign to run around and go nuts, total strangers became fast friends in the span of a coupla songs as they bonded in a way that's far more difficult in the prickly confines of Clubland.
Recent months have seen The Hoots becoming almost too successful and perhaps even suffering some growing pains. The comfort level has inevitably declined due to the runaway success -- an issue that will be difficult to deal with since the venue itself is so much a part of the appeal. There's also a perception by some that the event itself is becoming as big an attraction as the music on display, a seeming paradox since the initial impetus for the event was almost strictly musical in nature. There's also a certain "insider" vibe perceived by some that may initially turn some newbies off. A sizable percentage of the audience is made up of people who attend frequently; a similar situation exists with some of the performers, many of whom ended up playing several times during the series, even on nights when they weren't scheduled. The convivial nature of the Hoot only exacerbated this clubby vibe -- in jokes, frequent first name shout-outs and references to hoots past were the order of the day at every Hoot I attended. Finally, the format of the Hoot simply isn't everyone's cup of tea. While i personally have liked nearly all the music i've heard over the months and have no problem with the "let it all hang out" philosophy that is on display, there's little doubt that some people weren't as thrilled with the lack of structure, occasionally awkward pacing and wildly varying musical styles. The very things that some attendees found so attractive, if not addictive, may well be the same things that others found off-putting. Such is the nature of The Hoot, for better or worse.
So, after a Hoot finale that found the ol' Ripple pulling off something that will be hard to ever top, let's all hoist a big "Irish Coffee" to him and all of the performers and attendees who helped to create one of the coolest things to hit the local music scene in a long while. Cheers everyone -- here's to a successful second season that will kick off next fall sometime.
Not bad for a hair-brained idea that was only supposed to last a month. :-)
The big surprise was an unannounced appearance by local legends Golden Smog, a "booking" that may seem like an enormous coup for this underground -- in almost every sense of the word -- event. However, anybody who's attended even a few of these things knows that almost anything is possible at "The Hoot." Indeed, one of the series' biggest thrills has been the joy of experiencing something you weren't expecting -- certainly not early on a Friday evening hidden away in a room that evokes a shotgun wedding of a bomb shelter and a basement rec room held in a speakeasy.
After a very low-key launch in the first week of November 2006, the weekly gatherings soon became known as "The Friday Night Hoot." The Hoot is the brainchild of The Mad Ripple (aka Mpls scribe/author/musician Jim Walsh). These performances started with the most modest of intentions. Before long, however, they became something of must-see event for insiders, hipsters and neighborhood locals. By almost any estimation, the hoots evolved into a tremendous success; the sum total of great music featured over the months has been staggering. Aside from the music, a key component of the hoots is the unique vibe, a strange brew of coffeehouse intimacy, underground chic, speakeasy naughtiness and rec room bonhomie. The lines between performer and listener were compellingly shattered every week -- audience participation was encouraged if not demanded, evoking dusty memories of the days when folk music existed in a world of its own, long before the 60s musical revolution when previously disparate genres started cross-breeding like kissin' cousins.
Devotees often refer to "The Hoot" in quasi-mystical terms -- and they're usually only half-joking. In a short time it's acquired many of the characteristics of organized religion or even a cult: a mythology, a set of rituals, a self-referencing internal logic -- everything short of a secret handshake, although regular attendees greet each other with knowing familiarity even if they've never taken the effort to formally introduce themselves.
The performers featured during The Hoot's first season ran the gamut in almost every respect -- from Grammy award winners to undiscovered hopefuls vying to be the next Bob Dylan. Or Conor Oberest. After just a few weeks, it became apparent that this event had tapped into an abundant reservoir of talent in these twin towns, talent that frequently was flying under the radar and/or bore little resemblance to what's going on out in Pitchfork/Indie-world. While it's always fun to see someone doing an acoustic turn when it's not their usual bag, the hoots have also proudly displayed a plethora of talent who woulda been right at home back in the golden days long before "Hootenanny" became known as the name of a Replacements record.
And if the consistently good music at the hoots didn't draw ya in, the abundant good spirits present every week would. Stories and tall tales spilled forth from the stage faster than you can say "Jamesons Irish Whisky," tons of kids had free reign to run around and go nuts, total strangers became fast friends in the span of a coupla songs as they bonded in a way that's far more difficult in the prickly confines of Clubland.
Recent months have seen The Hoots becoming almost too successful and perhaps even suffering some growing pains. The comfort level has inevitably declined due to the runaway success -- an issue that will be difficult to deal with since the venue itself is so much a part of the appeal. There's also a perception by some that the event itself is becoming as big an attraction as the music on display, a seeming paradox since the initial impetus for the event was almost strictly musical in nature. There's also a certain "insider" vibe perceived by some that may initially turn some newbies off. A sizable percentage of the audience is made up of people who attend frequently; a similar situation exists with some of the performers, many of whom ended up playing several times during the series, even on nights when they weren't scheduled. The convivial nature of the Hoot only exacerbated this clubby vibe -- in jokes, frequent first name shout-outs and references to hoots past were the order of the day at every Hoot I attended. Finally, the format of the Hoot simply isn't everyone's cup of tea. While i personally have liked nearly all the music i've heard over the months and have no problem with the "let it all hang out" philosophy that is on display, there's little doubt that some people weren't as thrilled with the lack of structure, occasionally awkward pacing and wildly varying musical styles. The very things that some attendees found so attractive, if not addictive, may well be the same things that others found off-putting. Such is the nature of The Hoot, for better or worse.
So, after a Hoot finale that found the ol' Ripple pulling off something that will be hard to ever top, let's all hoist a big "Irish Coffee" to him and all of the performers and attendees who helped to create one of the coolest things to hit the local music scene in a long while. Cheers everyone -- here's to a successful second season that will kick off next fall sometime.
Not bad for a hair-brained idea that was only supposed to last a month. :-)
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