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“It’s like Prince and Lowell George invited William Kennedy over to jam.” – Casey Seiler, Times Union.

Video

Photos

Photos of the usual suspects at the “Best Damn Open Mic” taken by Jean Luc at Tess’ Lark Tavern Dec. 6, 2007, for TheHiddenCity.com. More at Flickr.

Lyrics

There’s a party going on at Tess’
Every Wednesday night
Of the “Best
of” hers is The Bestest
Mother Judge‘s Open
Mic

If you need a drummer I betchya Candlen can
You could have Mitch
on guitar and Albie on bass
And Sten will add some flava on mandolin
They gonna wreck the place

Or Mr. Brodeur
can be your one-man power trio
He plays guitar, bass and drums at the same time
He’s in
twenty–nine
bands so
yours will make an even three-oh
But his review
may call you out for your lame
rhymes

There’s a party going on at Tess’
Every Wednesday night
Of the “Best of” hers is The Bestest
Mother Judge‘s Open
Mic

In the back of the room there is chatter
That Rosanne will show or
even Powhida
But when Mother takes the mic nothing else matters
It’s all about: Sweet
Caroline

And Mother Judge’s Open Mic is like open arms…

Yes she welcomes you with open arms tonight
But when she opens her mouth she don’t need the mic
A voice loud and proud like her beauty mark
It’s calling past the bar, out the door of the Lark

They hear it across the street in the Lionheart
It’s giving Moses the chills up in Washington Park
Down Madison past the old Palais
digs

Steamrolling past Eliot
and Silda’s crib

The voice of heaven, the song of God’s daughter
Over 787 to the Hudson
waters
And the Hudson’s love takes it all the way down
To New York City Manhattan Town

This voice so pretty it lifts like magic

Over New York City where they wish they had it.
Where did our scene go?
Where can we sing our songs?
I think Annine knows.

She says: “Mother Judge has had it all along.”

But will it be worth it?
Will it be as good as I remember it?
It’s making me nervous…
And I know that the antidote to my suburban loneliness is just a few
miles down Delaware to her society of urban holinesss – where Mr.
Bob Buckley knows every song written since 1965 – where Mr.
Troy Pohl is going electric tonight – where Ms.
Abdou is up on the TV screen coming in live from the other side
of the world via satellite – where Mr.
Sevayega rolls in to rock at 1 o’clock a.m. he’s on C.P. time.

But for this here crazy hair four-eyes brace-face big black behind
havin’ semi-retired from the music so-called business thirty-somethin’
somethin’ pushin’ forty union webmaster
by day husband and daddy by night chilling
cold chilling free to be put in a cage
livin’ in the acoustic soul rock ‘n roll capital of the world – a.k.a
Delmar…
it’s just a 14-minute
drive –

– To the party going on at Tess’
Every Wednesday night
Of the “Best of” hers is The Bestest
Mother Judge’s Open Mic.

BT and MotherJudge. Photographs by Luanne Ferris for the Times Union “Best of the Capital Region 2007.”