by Peter Berryman
House Concert Flyover
As I was winging my flight simulator over the LA basin, trying
to convince myself it was somehow related to writing this column,
Red Gallagher called from a ski resort in New England where he
has had a yearly gig for the past nine years.
Red is a musician from the Twin Cities whom I have known for decades.
He has shared the bill with my musical partner Lou and I at various
Minnesota shows, and even played with us once years ago at the
old Club de Wash in Madison. He's a natural songwriter and a unique
singer with a particularly warm stage presence. He has played
everywhere from taverns to concert halls to trade shows, as have
most of us in this biz.
But he told me sheepishly on the phone, as I crash landed into
a ravine in the coastal foothills, that he has never played a
house concert. A friend of his on the eastern seaboard, who has
never hosted one, offered Red the opportunity to put on such a
show in his living room. Red called me to find out how to proceed,
and what to expect.
We frequently list house concerts in our schedule, and are often
asked what they are. The question has come up even more since
the release of our 2000 CD, which we called House Concert,
because it was recorded at one.
Usually
A house concert is usually just that: A concert in someone's house.
But the operative word here is "usually," because house
concerts can vary in almost every respect. I have a distant cousin
who, while in seminary school near Buffalo, gave house concerts
in his dorm room which featured himself playing the hollow core
door using a tuba mouthpiece stuck in a knothole. It was a bedroom
show so he wore a bathrobe, but he played classical music on the
door so he wore a tux under it. The audience would sit on his
bed.
These were house concerts, because a house concert can't be defined
any more specifically than a group of people gathered informally
to hear music performed in a primarily residential, or at least
non-commercial, setting. It is, essentially, a private party,
with live music not as background music but as the focus of the
event.
Occasionally
Variations are rampant. Occasionally house concerts are free.
Usually however, there is a suggested donation, often in the ten
to fifteen dollar range. This goes directly to the performer so
that the venue can in no way be construed as a business, which
could conceivably have odd legal ramifications.
Red asked me if folding chairs were rented for the show. Sometimes
they are, but more often the host rounds up hassocks, ottomans,
milk crates, beer cases, La-Z-Boys, and davenports to provide
seating for those who don't just go ahead and plunk down on the
Astroturf.
Sometimes the concert isn't publicized except maybe by phone,
and is attended only by friends and family of the host and/or
the musician. Usually, though, the musician will at least post
the gig on their schedule card and email site, with the host's
phone number for reservations and directions. Reservations are
very often suggested so that people aren't turned away on the
off chance that more than a livingroomfull of folks trudge up
the flagstones. As a matter of fact, directions to the house often
are not posted, but are given only when reservations are taken.
A sound system is usually unnecessary, since most folksters will
be loud enough to be heard across the rec room and into the laundry
alcove, though there are exceptions to this too. If a rental PA
is required, the cost comes out of the donation basket. The host
really shouldn't have to foot the bill for any expenses, though
I'm sure there are often a few incidentals that end up lightening
the house wallet.
We usually play two sets of 45 to 50 minutes each, separated by
a break during which CDs are sold and snacks are sometimes made
available. These can be provided by the host, the guests (potluck
style), or through some other arrangement.
Fortunately
House concerts have advantages: The host enjoys having a favorite
musician in his/her very own home for a personal show. Host and
musician form a personal relationship. Host has a party and sees
friends and meets people. Musician enjoys a good listening audience,
usually hassle free sound, monetary donations, and an opportunity
to meet fans. Musician often enjoys a gig on an off night or even
an afternoon, where he/she would otherwise be unproductive. The
audience can see and hear up close, yak with the musician, and
meet other people with similar taste.
Unfortunately
House concerts have disadvantages: The host usually ends up cleaning
before and after, moving furniture, answering phones, and so on.
Parking sometimes creates tension with neighbors, as with any
party. The musician rarely has a financial guarantee. Allergies
can be a problem. People don't always get comfy seats. Sometimes
it's hard for musicians and audiences to find the place. But generally,
the probability of everyone having a good time at a house concert
is as high as if not higher than at a commercial venue.
Not Surprisingly
Though there will always be humble shows in cozy dens, there have
developed grander versions of these folksy huddles. We have played
house concerts in homes built entirely around the idea of throwing
such concerts on a large scale, complete with banks of stage lighting
and fancy sound boards. We have seen concert series begin in someone's
living room and eventually grow too popular for the house, finally
moving into a commercial space and forging on, expanding completely
beyond the house concert designation.
There is not surprisingly a house concert web site (houseconcerts.com)
with links to over 100 ongoing series in 29 states. The creators
of this site, hosts of the Flowers in the Desert house
concerts of Brenham, Texas, have even put together a 34 page booklet
on the subject, available via their site, for potential hosts
and interested musicians.
But my pal Red's house concert is in the end whatever the host
and Red want it to be, and has been that way ever since the world's
first minstrel dragged her log into the cave of a friend to club
out the original Flintstones theme song for a donation of beebleberries,
the next boulder over from the current site of my virtual crash
landing in a California crevice.