The Fluid open mic at 7th West has been on my radar for a while, but it was only this past Thursday, June 18th, that I was able to find my way to West Oakland for the event.
That particular evening, some friends were meeting in Oakland at Tall Boy, so I stopped in for a chat and a drink there before making the final leg out to West Oakland.
With the mild June weather in full effect, it was a beautiful evening to be out. 7th West is an impressive and visually stunning environment to be in. The building stands like a bit of a black monolith; a negative space carved out from the grey concrete and chain link texture surrounding it. Its rear courtyard boasts stunning, colorful murals that spool across the facade and shipping containers, dwarfing mere humans.
As I approached, the metal-on-metal complaint of a chain link gate called out from the back lot, and I joined in with a couple of folks in their struggle to deploy the open mic signage outside the door in the wind. With a little ingenuity, we were able to secure it outside the building.
Inside, 7th West is a cavernous warehouse space with some high-top stools scattered about the place.
A long bar runs along the western wall, sporting a large selection of cocktail bottles and a row of tall, colorful handles advertising local Bay Area brews on tap. Near the entrance, an LED sign above a small service window advertises the kitchen. The night I was there, the blackboard beside the kitchen window was advertising “Tacos Mi Barrio.” There were three meat options for the tacos, loaded fries, or a loaded hot dog.
Fluid Open Mic is one of a few open mics in the Bay Area that charge admission. Some lists only include free open mic events. Those lists' position is that an event is something other than “open” if there is a cover charge. It seems to me there are already too few inclusive, participatory opportunities out there, which is why Bayareaopenmics.com includes all open mic events; I don't mind however an event manages to sustain its contribution to the creative community, so long as the event is transparent about it.
At Fluid Open Mic, performers pay slightly less than attendees: it's $17.85 to attend and $12.51 to get yourself onto the open mic list.
I had purchased the requisite performer ticket in advance, but once you have attended 7th West, the automated interface will send you a link for a code to attend a future event for free in exchange for posting a review about your visit.
In any case, when I walked in Kevin (KaySuave) greeted me with a friendly smile and asked me if I'd signed up in advance and would like to check in,
“Go ahead and hit your name on the screen there,”
he gestured at an iPad on the table near the entrance.
Once I'd toggled the button to “Checked In” next to my name and turned to go, he produced what appeared to be a giant Nintendo Switch and invited me to sign up to play, where I entered my name, instagram, and phone number onto the screen.
The giant Nintendo device thanked me onscreen and further validated this by pinging my phone less than a minute later,
“Lightholder, you're on the list! We'll text you when you're up next.”
“Wow, so high tech!” I said. Kevin grinned,
“We try.”
Kevin explained that the open mic has been running,
“Really since 2015, but at another location. We opened up here right about January 2020.”
“D'oh!” I sympathized.
“Yeah…” he said, “so then we were online doing this for two years on a sound stage in Oakland.”
Looking around the room, it had started to fill in with about a dozen people of all sorts. A trio of young, fashionably dressed dancers had slipped outside to practice their routine in the courtyard.
Toting a DSLR and snapping photos of the goings-on was Captured by Lopez.
“Are you affiliated with the event?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Is there somewhere folks can see some of the photos from tonight?” I asked, and she shared her instagram with me. Definitely go check out her feed to see the event through her eyes.
The patio area behind 7th West hosts some impressive Burning-Man-style sculptures and some colorful, absolutely gorgeous mural work.
I stood outside for a while, admiring the symmetry between the pink and purple colors striping across the evening sky and the similar palette of colors spread across the walls of the courtyard.
When I set my plans to be in West Oakland, I picked the only date I was free, which happened to be the eve of Juneteenth. There was certainly a part of me keenly aware that my presence at an event in West Oakland on this particular night might not be seen as supportive. Had there been vibes to that effect, I was fully ready to remove myself as a matter of respect.
But before I'd stepped foot in the building, folks amicably accepted my help in getting the open mic banner up and Kevin's friendly welcome at sign up helped set me at ease. Looking around at the folks trickling in, it was at least apparent that different sorts of folk are very welcome at 7th West: there were folks from different backgrounds, and even a few white people.
Transparently: social pragmatism isn't always my strongest suit. Even so, being the only white person there would have been a signal even I wouldn't have missed. As it was, up near the stage a white dude was unpacking a trumpet and, at the table nearest to me, a younger white guy in a black sleeveless shirt wore a Palestinian flag bandana under a baseball cap that read “Make Racists Afraid Again.” He was fiddling with a battery charger.
Ever interested in gadgets (and not a little curious about his outfit), I leaned over,
“Hey, I'm Seán.”
“Jason.” A pause. “Young Yay,” he gestured at the writing on his shirt, which read,
FUCK ICE THE YOUNG YAY
I asked where he called home.
“I live up in Sonoma.”
“And you come all the way down here for the open mic?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes,” he said, and there was some weight to it.
Puzzled, I consulted my brain's internal list of open mics and said, “There ARE open mics in Sonoma…” Jason picked right up,
“There ARE,” he winced, “but they do a specific thing up there…” and paused.
“…Grateful Dead?” I suggested, after a minute spent trying to imagine what might be prevalent in Sonoma and not too appealing to a guy dressed the way Jason was.
“Well…” he demurred. I tried again,
“60s Folk?” Jason laughed and took a breath.
“Non-threatening.” He clarified. “The average age up there is retirement age. Rap doesn't always...” he seemed to search for his words, “…land so well.” A beat. “I have been asked to leave at places. Also, ‘Family friendly.’ Love that, too,” he said, sarcastically. I was beginning to get the picture. “So you come down here to do your thing.”
“Oakland is a lot better for the kind of thing I do,” he confirmed.
Just then the sound system came to life as Kevin turned to the room with a mic in hand,
“Happy Pride! Happy Juneteenth! My name is KaySuave. I will be your sound engineer tonight. I would like to bring to the stage the visionary who brought this to life back in 2015: Mandela!”
Applause and a few exuberant calls rang out from the folks in the room.
Muzik Ra took the stage in a white denim jacket with gold filigrees on the sleeves and a pair of shiny, red, pointed-toe boots. He peered through a pair of round, rose-tinted glasses,
“What's good what's good what's good?! It's Pride Month and the day before Juneteenth! White people: your job tonight is to make us feel comfortable and safe. Don't take up too much space. We gonna have some fun tonight. We got three rules here, y'all: respect the space, respect yourself, respect the rules.”
Behind Mandela the band stirred to life, he continued over the vibe,
“So I was out back writing some stuff. We just gonna vibe out.” He began to sway and sing in a strong baritone,
“This one's for us, yeah.”
The tone was contemplative and fierce.
“450 years of grace. And yet, my people still struggle.”
The improvised song from the night's MC came to an end and he called the first open mic performer onstage.
Sabaa Zareena rose from her seat near the front and, as she took the stage, opened a dark, hardbound book with purpose. She paused and began to read,
“This one is called ‘The Garden.’”
It was a powerful, declarative piece. A line stuck out to me,
“So please don't be surprised if I'm demanding everything you'd poured into me”
As she read, the band gently rose a melodic tapestry behind her.
Even as she finished, the musicians continued, orchestrating her departure expertly, like the soundtrack of a movie.
Mandela strode out into the music and called down appreciation for Sabaa's performance before welcoming the next performer, Erin, who sang along to a song by Paramore.
The dancers from the courtyard took the stage next. Not just a dance troupe, it turns out, they were there celebrating the release of a new single that day, “It Boy,” by PRNC.
It was a jubilant routine and lit the fuse for the rest of the evening's performers. Open mics do this: even the first few acts, from Sabaa Zareena's poetry to PRNC's song-and-dance routine, demonstrate the inherent flexibility of the open mic format. 7th West isn't a small space, but whether it was a poet reading from the page or a trio of energetic dancers breaking the fourth wall, I had the sensation that the space became the size it needed to be, expanding or contracting for each of the Fluid Open Mic performers.
It would be unjust not to give a shout out to Vibe Muzik: the trio is an incredible backing band; smoothly supporting performances where needed and holding back where appropriate. I especially enjoyed when the bass player took an open mic slot later in the evening and delivered a piece on their own, sans instrument.
As for myself, I played my song, “Aoife,” hoping to make room for Vibe Muzik to do their thing behind me (which they expertly did).
Public transit in the Bay Area isn't always convenient when seeking open mics, especially for those of us in suburbia. Fluid Open Mic is just a few blocks from BART, but weeknight trains don't run very late or very often, so I had to leave before things wrapped up.
Fluid Open Mic is perfect for performers in the East Bay who don't mind a cover charge in exchange for a diverse, welcoming crowd, a supportive community, and an incredible backing band.
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