ArchivedLogs:Oppressing Guerilla Musicians

Oppressing Guerilla Musicians
Not in my café!
Dramatis Personae Jan, Melinda
In Absentia	2013-03-21 Crankybrained Mel Oppresses Snotty Teenagers
Location <NYC> Montagues - SoHo
Montagues harkens back to the day when SoHo was filled to the brim with artists, with its mismatched furniture, all plush and decorated heavily with carved wood, but remains trendy enough to keep its newer patrons by making sure that furniture is clean, in good repair and inviting. The antique tables all have been reinforced to seem less creaky. The real draw of the cafe is the smell: fresh roasted coffee mingles with perfectly steeped teas. Spices from crisp pastries mingle with the tang of clotted cream but don't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. It's Thursday night! That means Open Mic Night at Montagues. Young artists and new professionals take a small stage in the back of the room and perform their covers songs and new melodies to a group of family and friends, supporters new and forbearing a like. Tonight, a young woman with a guitar plays while a young man of a similar age sings at a microphone. They are a folksy duet, but with a more contemporary beat, generally well received by the observers. Melinda, the assistant manager wanders around group with a clip board in hand, wearing a white top and a black skirt, listening as well, but also paying attention to her clipboard. Jan walks into Montagues. She's a teenager, wearing a catholic private school uniform. Its as dark as she can get away with without being in trouble, and still being in uniform. In one hand she has a violin case - it is open mic night, after all. She stops at the front bar, and orders a black coffee, without flavor or sweeteners, and a piece of chocolate. While she waits in line, she turns to listen to the folksy duet. Melinda plays attentive manager quietly, noticing people as they come in and making some sort of note on her clipboard. When she sees Jan's violin case, she wanders over quietly, putting on a small smile. "Hi there. Are you signed up to play tonight?" She looks between the girl, her instrument, and her clipboard. "I don't have anyone signed up that plays violin, but not every instrument is listed." Jan shakes her head. "I didn't sign up." she admits. "I was hoping there would be a spot open, but to be honest, I probably won't be terribly dissapointed if there isn't. I don't usually go out of my way to play in public anymore then what I have to for school. This is more of an experiment, and I'd be glad to be a chicken." Melinda considers for a moment and looks the girl over. "Well, the problem is that I generally don't let people play until I know they can actually play. Do you have a cd or a thumb drive with your music on it?" She wraps her arms around her clipboard and holds it to her chest. Jan gives Melinda an unimpressed look. "Do you have a cd or thumb drive with your business credentials on it? I typically don't play in coffee shops unless I have written proof they actually serve coffee." She doesn't sound particularly annoyed or even grumpy when she says this; she's completely deadpan. "Okay then. Have a nice night." Melinda smiles and nods and turns away. She heads back to the stage quietly. Shrugging, Jan turns away toget her coffee, and her chocolate, finds a table, and sits down. She drinks it while the couple finishes, and slowly opens her violin case, and sets her violin beside her while she waits politely for the folksy duo to finish. She doesn't bear them, or Melinda, any particular ill will. She is, however, a rather rebellious little teen. She continues to sip, and glances about at the other patrons. The night drags on and the duo finally plays their last song. When they finish, they clear the stage, and people return to their coffee sipping while Melinda moves about the cafe and goes to chit chat with the staff behind the bar. She orders herself a drink and then wanders back to the stage without it. After a few minutes, one of the other employees brings her out a tall mug filled with chocolate and coffee. Seeing her chance, and not really caring what Melinda thinks - Jan positions her violin, putting the left side of her jaw on the chinrest, and supporting the rest of the violin on her left shoulder. She then picks up her string, and begins to play. She remains seated in her chair, and will continue to play regardless of whether anyone -actually- pays her any attention or not. She plays Tchaikovsky's Volin Concerto; or the violin solo part of it at least. Written by a (then) suicidal Russian composer of legendary skill, the technically difficult song is considered one of the most depressing violin pieces ever written. It is not a happy or uplifting song - its a song of loneliness, isolation and misery. She doesn't play it perfectly. She's only 15. But she does play it like a classically trained violinist who has been playing the instrument most of their life, with passion and feeling. She's good. She also rather doubts she'll get the chance to finish the song. Alas, no, the poor, oppressed teen does not get an opportunity to play. Melinda sets down her mug as soon as she sees the girl lift the violin and walks over, placing the clipboard rather loudly on the table. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Her voice is flat and serious, her gaze locked on the girls face. "Or I will call the police." Jan, in the fashion of snot-nosed teenagers, ignores Melinda and continues to play. "Fine, have it your way." Melinda, prepared for this, pulls out a cell phone from her pocket and dials the police. She steps away from the girl and begins to hold a conversation with the person who answers the phone. "Yes, this is Melinda Chylds, manager down at Montagues," she continues listing the address and beginning the process of calling for a police car to stop by and arrest someone disturbing the peace. It is not a quick phone call. The overall concerto is almost three quarters of an hour long. Jan is only playing the violin solo, which is significantly, significantly shorter - a bit under eight minutes. Generally, the police take more then eight minutes to walk across the street in some cases, and Jan, being an arrogant (albeit intelligent) teenager, doubts anything more would happen then that they would ask her to leave. Still, this isn't the most well-thought out of plans she's ever had. She continues to play the melanchony piece while Melinda is on the phone. Stubbornly so. Still, assuming no further and specific interruptions - she'll only get slightly less then halfway through it before she chickens out due to nervousness, starts messing up, and starts scratching awkardly from poor bow handling. Up to that point, she does fine, but the more she messes up, the more nervous she gets. Melinda turns around when she notices that the girl is prone to nervousness and stares her down, finishing the conversation. She hangs up, slips her phone back into her pocket and rests her hands on the table facing the teenager. "Cops are on their way. Ever been to jail, kid? You think they're going to take care of your violin in there? It might get pretty beat up in evidence holding." When she starts to scratch and screech, Mel shakes her head. "See, I'm doing myself a favor letting you play on. You're just going to turn the crowd against you so that they cheer when you leave." Jan stops playing and darts her eyes towards Melinda. Momentarily, she regains her inner snark. "Arrest me for playing a violin during open mic night? Sounds like someone's on a serious ego trip. I'm 15 - whats your excuse?" Still, she's more nervous then her snarky words would indicate, and it shows. She has, after all, stopped playing, so the victory goes to Melinda. She adds afterwords, a bit more shakily "Besides, your acting like an idiot. You'd have had to listen to the music either way. Way to scare off potential customers." Again, snarky words, nervous teen. "You just don't understand how the world works, kid." Melinda retorts, eyes narrowing. "I'm not on an ego trip, I'm protecting my customers. They come here to enjoy a beverage and listen to creative people who have worked hard to get to where they are going. You've dodged the entire process, you've come in off the streets and you presumed that you could just take whatever you wanted and suddenly everyone would just stop and applaud you for your bravery and beautiful music? Guess what. You don't play that well." She shakes her head as she straightens up. "I offered to help you and you threw it in my face. Why would I trust my customers to you?" "Actually, I thought people came to open mic night precisely to listen to people off the street. They go to a -concert hall- to listen to people who have worked hard to get places. This is basically karaokee." She stands up, and quickly tries to put away her violin. "Enjoy micromanaging your business and your potential customers to make up for your frustrations about the lack of control you have in your greater life." She can certainly talk, but - again - she's really a bit of a coward, and then promptly bolts. "People go to the streets... to listen to people off the streets," Melinda replies, mostly to herself, mystified by the girl's boasts. She exhales moodily when the girl leaves and reaches up to rub at her left temple as she leans against the table. Someone else brings her coffee over to her, while a quiet murmuring resumes in the cafe. The previous silence is more poignant in its absence. Some people mention that Mel should have just let the girl play. Others are amused by the whole scene. The vast majority barely registers the whole situation as they simply weren't paying attention. The assistant manager heads over to the stage and starts winding cords and breaking down equipment for the night, waiting on the inevitable arrival of the police.