The Kitchen Concert Hall!

The concert hall was usually someone’s kitchen. I guess you can figure out why. Someone would be baking cookies, or the pot of stew would be on, and five or so of us would be doing a round robin of songs. There would be a sprinkling of whoever was in town, some folks from the local coffeehouses, and a few newbies eager for tips. It was an informal get-together which was also a school for performance.

If it were later at night, a jug of something alcoholic would be involved. Some of us strained our limited abilities to impress the older pros who’d been around the Village years longer than we.

The venue was a great place to present new material, work on verses, and get help with instrumental flourishes. Some of the teachers could be old pros with recording contracts, opening days for this year’s tour, and actual fans. A casual, ” Lou, I like the phrasing on that last verse!” could buoy you for a week – you were making progress.

It was a combination of a concert hall, an old-style Hootenanny, and a school for those wishing to become initiates, all folded into one. It was where you learned the “trade craft”. Everything from the timing of your patter between songs, to the sort of introductions, and the way you stared down the noisy drunk in row three was examined. It was all the stuff you couldn’t learn at a school like Juilliard.

Sometimes it happened between gigs in the backroom at places like the Cafe Rienzi. Someone would hear you pick something out, and add her own piece to it, and then a third would join in, ” hey! Did you hear this one?”

So those were the best concerts I have ever been to. It was participatory. The opposite player might be famous, or unknown. We were all doing it for the love of the music.

• Note, I’m going to blame Martha over at Anachronisms of the Far West for this post-she tagged a bit from Tim Hawkins that dragged me back kickin’ and screaming to Greenwich Village in 64 and 65. – https://marthakennedy.blog/2026/05/08/knowing-when-to-foldem/