It was a beautiful day in San Francisco.
I took the opportunity to connect with one of my oldest and best friends in the city to catch the Thursday Simple Pleasures Open Mic.
Living as I do in the more far-flung and less densely populous reaches of the Bay, the city's reliable public transit never ceases to impress. Forgetting — as I always do — that one can simply catch the bus, I had suggested we head out far earlier than necessary, assuming we had a lot of walking ahead of us.
Once my friend sized up the situation, he suggested we take advantage of the buses that seem to run every three seconds and make a flying visit up to 10th Avenue first: a pop-in at the local watering hole on Clement, Lost Marbles Brewpub.
This is not a post about that venue, but: what a gorgeous place. Our intended brief tour took considerably longer than planned as I wandered slack-jawed around the interior and became pleasantly entangled in a surprisingly erudite conversation about James Joyce with the bartender Eric.
Not to fear — public transit whisked us down Balboa to 35th with time to spare.
It's immediately apparent that Simple Pleasures Cafe is a neighborhood hub.
Before you even step inside, the clusters of people gathered on the benches out front make the case for this venue's importance to the community in the Outer Richmond. A steady stream of folks of every age poured in and out, many pausing to enjoy the fine weather in the parklet that now occupies the sidewalk in front of the cafe.
Inside, the decor is as crowded and friendly as the patrons. High ceilings and painted walls in the front of the shop give way to a warm collage of framed animal prints and community photos.
Pillars are plastered with band stickers, and fairy lights thread around the top of the room, drawing the eye toward a vintage neon Anchor Steam sign glowing above the end of the counter.
It's at this choke point — sign-up sheet and mixing desk wedged right next to an old payphone (I checked: it doesn't work) — that the open mic organizers hold court.
Even arriving a little early, the list was already full — this is not a venue where you can afford to dawdle. Al, the host this week (Simple Pleasures Open Mic runs with a rotating cast of hosts), very generously offered me her own slot when she learned I'd need to leave before the late sign-ups would get called.
The performance space at Simple Pleasures is a little ad hoc — a chair and mic set up beside the house piano (yes, it's tuned, and yes, it's available to performers) — but the sound is surprisingly good.
The "stage" sits just past that narrow choke point I mentioned:
the chairs surrounding it fill up, but most people gravititate to standing in that slender corridor with craned necks rather than claiming the less-obvious seating behind the performer.
First on the mic was Dennis, who played a five-string banjo that looked like it could belong in the Smithsonian. A rapt audience — including more than a few boisterous children — listened in.
The second performer was a family trio — a father and two of his daughters. Intergenerational music is the best. In my experience, other cultures indulge in this far more frequently than we do here stateside, so it warmed my heart to see the crowd of mixed ages at Simple Pleasures extends to the open mic event as well.
Speaking of an engaged, mixed age crowd, among those gathered in that narrow corridor were Ben and Judah.
Judah, it was explained to me, LOVES guitars, and after offering me a solemn fist-bump, engaged in some very committed air guitar during one of the sets. Ben, for his part, went to the same high school I did. Wild. It's rare I meet true Bay Area locals, and meeting someone from my high school only added to Simple Pleasures' quality of feeling like somewhere everyone already knows one other.
Third on the list was Little Oil: an eclectic and intense performer who began on guitar before switching to piano — proving the functionality of the house instrument.
Then it was my turn. Wanting to respect Al's generosity in giving me her slot, I opted to play just one song rather than the two allocated to each performer. Inspired by the vintage neon Anchor Steam sign glowing above the counter — and a sticker I'd spotted in the bathroom — I played Steam Beer, the song I wrote for my Irish band, CaliCeltic, about the Anchor Brewing Company.
I asked the crowd — as I ask anyone I play "Steam Beer" for — whether they'd heard anything about Anchor Brewing re-opening. Sadly, no one seemed to know. Hope springs eternal.
The Simple Pleasures Open Mic is perfect for performers of all ages, family acts, and anyone who wants to be energized by the warm Outer Richmond neighborhood's welcoming, community-first spirit.
Click on any photo in this post to see the full, uncropped version.
