The Wake

On the corner of 21st St. and Franklin Ave. stands an off-white edifice, an effervescent mural covering its side. Visibly aging residential buildings, scattered offices and pubs inhabit the mundane stretches of brick infrastructure surrounding the proudly discernible Blue Nile. The Mediterranean-style restaurant hosts some of the Twin Cities best unknowns in reggae, hip-hop and spoken word more nights than not.

The Blue Nile open-mic night featured a series of performances that embody what an open-mic night should be. Mixture of dancehall deejay, several poets and emcees entertained the stage with notable performances throughout the night.

The interior décor provides a refreshing aesthetic, which diverted my attention from the brisk autumn evening as I opened the large wooden doors. Upon entering and finding a seat at the bar, I was greeted by an extensive beer selection highlighted by a list of Belgian brews scarcely found in this part of the globe. I chatted a bit with the next guy over, but mainly remained quiet, intent on catching the next quip from the regulars exchanging lighthearted repartee. I had plenty of time to savor the hoppy taste of my Bell’s Two-Hearted Ale. With a hearty buzz in full effect, the hostess Desdamona announced performers.

While billed as a night for lyricists, The Poet’s groove is not limited to emcees and spoken word artists. A stand-up comic warmed the audience up, missing many funny bones, but successfully pushing a lot of buttons. With a series of racist and sexist mutterings belonging on the walls of bathroom stalls, the audience began grumbling and stirring around their seats. Before long, the Miami native decided to get the hell off of the stage. Desdamona apologized, offered a disclaimer ensuring the opinions of the artists are strictly their own and the audience was mostly appeased.

Despite the bumpy start, the energy in the room was still positive. A variety of acts performed on the stage: a spoken word piece celebrated the life of the recently departed Rosa Parks, a young songstress showcased her windpipes changing the pace over a mellow soul groove, and a band highly capable of laying down some soul, funk, and island music provided the beats. Of the performers, a former guest on Def Poetry Jam named Amir was the highlight. “They don’t think of our music as musing — merely amusing amusement” was one of the gems he dropped before receiving the night’s heartiest round of applause.

I left the club feeling completely satisfied. I had found the kind of place that begs for return. Stepping onto Franklin Avenue I smiled remembering the mixture of soul, reggae, hip-hop and spoken word that was a much-needed antidote for mid-term week stress. The beer didn’t hurt, either. The ultimate therapy would be to grab the mic, but the competition is strong enough to keep me content simply nodding my head.

The Blue Nile features an open mic night every Tuesday.