Every other Thursday, students and community members gather in the SURC Pit to showcase local talent in Central’s Open Mic Night. It’s a tradition that’s been going strong for over six years.

It’s routine—most students know the dates by heart—but it’s also highly anticipated.

The paid performers that are scheduled months in advance tend to do well in the same location. Their turnout, however, rarely comes close to the size of this bi-monthly event.

The performers have diverse stories and backgrounds that they share onstage, along with their experiences and personal views. It’s uncensored and impromptu. It’s unique. It’s tradition.

The excitement buzzes through the entire SURC Pit, which is overflowing with artists and audience members. They started arriving over two hours ago and are already on the edge of their seats. They’re also on the edge of the stairs, the edge of the tables and the edge of the room.

It’s standing room only.  

The moment arrives and performer after performer grace the stage.

An emphatic rapper’s lyrics earns cheers and shouts from the audience.

A spoken word poet ignites the room with his comedic fluctuations, but ends with an emotional cry for redemption.

The room swells as each new performer crosses the stage. Everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath in anticipation. Each time, the room gradually exhales with relief.

Everyone has passed the unspoken test.

So far.

Electric crowd

The first performer of the night, still buzzing from his performance earlier that evening, scans the room and smiles as he spots someone he recognizes. The grin consumes his face as he walks over to his friend and grabs him by the shoulder.

“When are you guys going to perform?” the performer asks his friend.

He nearly has to shout to be heard over feedback from the speakers. His friend shakes his head and chuckles at the comment.

“Maybe the next one,” he replies.

The sound of cellphone camera shutters and laughter runs together. Words become harder to decipher as the excitement of the room increases with each act.

Groups around the room review the sets that have finished for the night.

“I’ve never heard that song before, but she was good,” says a girl sitting on the top stair at the back of the Pit.

“That was very…interesting,” says a guy with his arm dangling from one of the couches.

If there’s any blatant criticism over a single performer, it’s not going to see the light of day in this room. There are a few cringes here and there, a couple sideways glances passed between friends, but nothing derogatory is said out-loud.

The event has an unspoken rule: support the performers, no matter how odd or off-key the performances may be.

The rush

“Coming up next is a newbie to the Open Mic Night stage,” says the announcer.

Cell phones are slipped back in pockets and eyes are raised once again to the stage. The audience is ready.

“Everybody give a warm welcome to Hollie Caskey,” the announcer’s voice echoes through the room.

Applause is automatic as all eyes scan in search of the face that goes along with the name. A woman wearing Romeos and frayed blue jeans shuffles around the crowd before stepping onto the stage.

Black hair juts out from the navy beanie clinging to her head, bouncing with each step. Settling on the barstool at the front of the room, she swings her acoustic guitar onto her lap and adjusts the microphone.  

After straightening out the capo clamped on her guitar, she turns her attention back to the strings. Strumming once, twice, three times; she’s finally ready.

Caskey announces that she’ll be covering a song by The Killers. With eyes closed, she begins strumming the chords to “Mr. Brightside.”

The performance is stripped down to nothing more than rhythm guitar. The tempo is slower than the original, and her voice carries a heavier tone than The Killers’ version. It’s nothing like the original, but the crowd starts getting into it.

Shoes around the room are moving in various tempos. Some are intentional replications of the beat while others are probably unaware that they’re even doing it. But one way or another, the music is reaching them.

Caskey wraps up the song and looks up at the audience. After nearly two hours of performances, the crowd still knows how to give a rousing ovation.

She smiles quickly before fixing her attention at the back of the room. Leaning into the microphone, she thanks the audience and then transitions into her original song, “Moving Forward.”

All nerves have settled after her opener, and the personal connection in her lyrics ring through her steady voice.

Between the lines

“It’s actually about her,” Caskey says as she points to her partner across the table after Open Mic Night has come to a close. “Actually, she’s my fiancé.”

The term is still new for the two of them. They’ve only been engaged for four days.

At the sudden shift in focus, her fiancé, Sky Corby, smiles at her and shrugs as she claims the inspiration for the lyrics.

Long after the performance is over, Caskey’s words about her fiancé still seem to hang in the room.

“It’s always nerve-wracking playing to a new crowd,” says Caskey. “I enjoy the rush of playing onstage in front of people and the satisfaction after I finish the song and hearing everyone applaud.”

Though the night may be over, the rush of the crowd will linger for the next several days. Some will continue practicing their rapping in the dining areas, surrounded by friends. Others will test out the acoustics in the courtyard near their dorms.

Everyone will keep the buzz alive for as long as they can, waiting for the next gathering.
“I’ve been performing at Open Mic Night for almost four years,” says one performer. “Just watching this grow from a few people to this…It’s incredible.”