Otto's Wednesday open mic: music and community in the tiki bar’s back room

Article and performance photos by Addie Selch 

On a cold Wednesday night in February, I hustle down the blistering expanse of East 14th Street and into Otto's Shrunken Head. The outdoor display under the bright neon lettering is stuffed with tiki mugs and thrift-store memorabilia.

The lights are bright inside, and two booths are filled up with men and their guitars tapping away on laptops, settling in for a long night at the bottom of the open mic list. The weekly open mic is already underway at the back of the bar, past a photobooth with the bottom half of a repairman sticking out. 

I tentatively push through the closed doors, nearly bumping into the mid-performance keyboard player. When he finishes, I step into the surprisingly full room. The walls are cobalt blue, studded with yellow stencil-painted Hawaiian flowers. Wooden idols leer from their niches. The elevated stage is backed by bamboo panelling and sparkly gold cutout stars. Tall, quilted, red leather booths line the two farthest walls with small tables set just in front and three more rows of chairs facing the stage. Almost all of the seats are full. I count 35 people, in addition to Dave, the enthusiastic host dressed in a rainbow trout iridescent blazer. 

Otto's Wednesday Open Mic was started in July 2021 by Ira Zadikow. Before COVID-19, he ran a jam at the old Nublu Classic on Avenue C. In the summer of 2021, he started shopping around for a place to host a new jam and open mic, considering locations like Parkside Lounge and Theatre 80, before speaking with the owners of Otto's (Nell Mellon, Steve Pang, and Patricia Lou) and coming to an arrangement that would offer Wednesday nights for the open mic once the venue fully reopened. 

Ira recalls that the jam and open mic started as a pretty quiet affair. But after two years, the increasing popularity of the open mic forced him to drop the jam and reduce the number of songs per performer from three to two. Even so, some nights, the mics can run as late as 12:30 a.m.

Dave, who recently took over as host in mid-December, says that he knew the open mic was special the first time he attended three years ago, following a six-year hiatus from music. A performer made a mistake, and he prepared to give an encouraging cheer, but for the first time in his open mic experience, someone else beat him to it. "Everybody here is very supportive," he says.

J Band, a three-piece band with two guitars and a harmonica, gets on stage to play Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues." An East Village open mic regular walks around banging his tambourine as they perform. As the tambourine drifts off, Dave, in his hosting duties, gets the crowd clapping. 

The next performer forgot her guitar strap, and in a room full of musicians, no one can seem to find one for her to borrow. She sits on stage with her pink electric guitar, and the harmonica player from the previous band accompanies her with a recorder. 

"Pink frosting 'til you're puking," she sings. The room claps. 

The performances continue. Carlos plays two jazz standards on his cello. Michelle debuts a song she wrote only the previous week. Jonathan promotes his charity show at the end of the month. Liam plays a "lyrical collage" on the keyboard, which samples a few words of at least 30 songs strung together. One woman raps over her own beats. She dances around the stage to a few enthusiastic whoops from the crowd. 

Megan, a regular at the open mic, personifies a doll in her original song, "A Doll in a Sale, Window Jail." Later in the night, another performer introduces his song by saying he's excited to share it with Meg. Unfortunately, she has already left.

Most performances feature original music, with a fair smattering of covers. The crowd ranges from 21 to 75 years old, and as the night goes on, the host pauses to read out the next five names from the sign-up clipboard, reminding everyone that there are a lot of people present and to keep things moving along. Whisperings among the crowd indicate a general awareness that this particular Wednesday is more packed than usual. Perhaps, like myself, many others are here for the first time. 

By 9 p.m., the crowd has barely dwindled. Some people have left, but more have come, likely signing up earlier in the evening and returning closer to their performance time. A lot of people seem to know each other and wave across the dark room or make their way over to say hello. One man goes around the room, introducing himself to a few people very loudly and eagerly. 

Next to me, a regular at the open mic lights up as David swaggers onto the stage. David's eyes are concealed by cheap red-framed sunglasses, and he's wearing a tight navy turtleneck and pants. 

"I came for you, David!" the man next to me yells, and the room suddenly quiets. "Woah," David responds nonchalantly, and several people, including the host, burst out laughing. 

David performs two originals, and his music is unnerving. The whistling, combined with the effect of the electric guitar pedal he uses with his acoustic guitar, makes my skin prickle.

At this point, I've been at Otto's for nearly three hours. I find myself watching the shimmering water reflection projection on the back wall and counting the red objects in the room. Drum kit, quilted booths, exit sign, sunglasses. I am likely one of the only attendees who is not performing or accompanying a performer, and I can understand why. Open mics can be long, unpolished, and lack continuity by nature, as they have many short sets. Even as a performer, a primary part of the open mic experience is waiting around. 

However, open mics are also important for musicians of many levels. They are a starting point for new musicians, a place to workshop and present music without all the restrictions and accountability that come with venues or clubs, and a scene to jump back into, as Dave did. 

Both Dave and Ira, in their willingness to pause what they're doing and talk with me about the open mic, shouting out their favorite regulars along the way, personify the openness and kindness that they speak of feeling here. As we chat, a young woman greets Dave with a hug and Ira with a warm wave. Open mics, as Ira put it, are a home base. It's clear that many people have comfortably found that at Otto's on Wednesday nights. 

Otto's Shrunken Head is at 538 E. 14th St. just west of Avenue B. Otto's Wednesday Open Mic starts at 6 p.m. (It begins at 8 p.m. on the first Wednesday of every month.)

Addie Selch is a young visual artist and writer who lives in NYC. She spends much of her time in the East Village. You can follow her on Instagram at @addieselch.