By Mina Wiebe

“Ugh, an open mic night? Do they at least sell booze?”—these were the first words out of my boyfriend’s mouth when I invited him to come with me to the Green Bean Café’s live music event. Suffice to say, I took that as a solid “no”.

Let’s face it, open mic nights don’t exactly have a reputation for being riveting musical experiences. I’ve called it “pretentious karaoke” in the past because quite frankly, they’ll usually let anyone up on stage. The Good, the bad, and the really bad. But as a lover of live music (and a lover of being stubborn as all hell), I was determined to find a talented example of the night’s lineup to prove him wrong. Out of this, I stumbled across Ron Leary.

I looked the local self-proclaimed folk artist up on Spotify and found myself charmed by the singer’s smooth vocals. He sang about lost love, a past of drinking, and other melancholic subjects that hooked me. I found myself listening to him on repeat until the night of the show, and armed with the ammunition I needed, I suddenly found myself with an optimistic tag-along.

The Green Bean Café is a cozy and quirky hangout favored by local university students. Oddly enough it’s located in a church basement but aside from the exterior architecture, you’d never know. The walls are decked out in charming fairy lights, abstract art, and other zany décor. A buzz of conversation fills the room with that recognizable warm, fuzziness that comes with the comforting atmosphere of a typical, local café.

We initially settled for the two seats closest to the stage, which I soon realized would create for a somewhat awkward experience since we were a mere three feet from where the singers were set to perform. Not wanting to be that cozy, we opted to move back a table. No sooner had we begun to sip our foamy drinks, had Leary plugged in his acoustic guitar and announced he was going to start off the night with a few tunes. And start off the night, he did.  

Pen and notepad at the ready, I almost immediately pushed them aside once Leary began to sing. While the others around us chose to continue typing away on their laptops and chatting amongst their friends, I gave my full attention to the stage. His sweet, breathy voice captivated my attention, and without hesitation I began to sway to the music.

Compared to what I had listened to over the past week, there was a noticeable difference in the performance; my company agreed, going so far as to lean over and whisper (and I quote), “well damn”. Whether it was due to my crappy headphones, or the fact that I was accustomed to Leary’s vocals accompanied by a mixture of guitar, drumming and banjo rather than the presently minimal acoustic guitar, we were surprised by a newly recognizable richness and depth in his vocal performance. In true folk style, his old-timey vocals were almost bouncy with varying pitches and shifting levels of raspy undertones.

As Leary transition into his second song of the night “Baby I’m No Good”, I clapped enthusiastically in recognition of my favourite song from his album “Tobacco Fields”. Again, I noticed a sharp difference from what I had grown used to on Spotify. The live use of a simplistic acoustic guitar left so much smore space to notice the texture and passion in Leary’s voice, and I appreciated the setup in its ability to allow his singing to be at the forefront. While the recorded layering of instruments and vocals was splendid, there was a certain raw crispness that begged me to listen during the live performance.

Leary ended up playing a set of five songs to open for the rest of the night’s performers, briefly interacting with the crowd in between. While I was annoyed by the lack of crowd response, it was also endearing to see that the passion still continued to ring in his voice. Open mic night or not, he gave a performance that I’d happily enjoy sober any day of the week.