Java Jo’s in Milton had a big fire a couple weeks ago. It’s not clear what’s going to happen to it; my pal Mike Delaney tells me that the owner is building a new restaurant down the street, so I imagine that the chances he’ll rebuild the coffeehouse are pretty slim. I’m not used to losing a venue like this – most of the open mikes listed in my open mike graveyard went out of business, or just decided not to do music anymore. A fire – well, that’s a first.
I remember, way back in 1997, when I first started playing regularly, Java Jo’s was one of the open mikes I frequented. Back in those days, the host was the redoubtable Steve Rapson – bigger than life, as he tends to be, always a kind or welcoming word for every person who mounted the stage. In my callowness, I found it sometimes hypocritical – after all, some of those other people were terrible. Of course, I had no idea, back then, that I was one of them. And that’s the point – we never know. It’s just self-preservation – most of us find out someday, hopefully after we’re good enough that it doesn’t sting the way it would have in the beginning.
Steve Rapson gave me my first gig. He also helped me choose my singing teacher. He also gave us Anne Eder-Mulhane, and her warm, gracious, mild-mannered style which has graced the Java Jo’s stage since Steve moved on. Java Jo’s was where I first met Dan Hart, as he played the riotous “Apocalypse Now and Then”; where I first met Terence Hegarty; where I heard Lori McKenna, the very first night she ever got on stage – her first song blew me away, only the second time I’d heard someone for the first time and thought, “You know, this person could be famous”.
I’ve featured at Java Jo’s seven times, according to my gig archive. The last time was Friday, October 13, 2006, and I debuted “I’m Not a Modest Man”, after finishing it that afternoon. I remember Dave and me standing outside on the sidewalk, where I played him the song and implored him not to play anything too amusing, for fear that I’d lose my place. It’s hard to believe that song is two years old; it’s hard to believe that Java Jo’s is probably gone.
They all go eventually: the Old Vienna, the Casual Cup in Brookline, the Acton Jazz Cafe, the Colonial Inn, the Kendall Cafe, the Folkal Point, the Mozaic Room. Some of them change stages; TCAN has never been the same since it moved into the firehouse, in spite of the hospitality of all the folks who have hosted. And the venues we still have, well, someday they’ll close, or burn down, or just fade away. But the music, well, that’s another story entirely. There’s always a new stage to take the place of the old one; always a new hosting face to fill the shoes of a local legend. It’s a floating crap game, of course – but the music keeps going.