Blow Fest!
Only three months ago, Brodie Rush — frontman for the for-now-defunct classic-rock band Be Non and later the sole member of a raunchy one-man band called Blow-Chi — had never tried karaoke. Maybe that’s why the karaoke night he hosts at the Brick on alternating Mondays feels nothing like karaoke nights at other bars.
One Monday, a woman dressed in a pink bunny suit performed a startlingly animalistic duet of “Good Golly, Miss Molly” with a curly haired friend in a cowboy hat. Her partner happily sang her parts and danced as though nothing were amiss; they sounded great, and everyone laughed. A man wearing a trash bag and a cardboard box over his head — he went by the name of Trash Bag Johnson — sang a muffled tune. Gladiola Ditchwater, of Big Jeter fame, changed into a bikini top for her rendition of “Leader of the Pack.” She felt herself up during the song and belted Look out, look out, look out! at a volume that made the microphone unnecessary. “I really wanted him to look out,” she said later.
Brodie (or Blow-Chi) also took the stage intermittently. Blow-Chi evolved from Rush’s desire to continue performing while avoiding the logistical headaches that a band sometimes creates. He figured out that by removing the lead vocal track from eight-track tapes, he could make backup bands that fit inside little plastic cartridges. He went with it, not realizing that he was doing karaoke to his own songs. After a show at the Brick, it became clear to the bar personnel that Blow-Chi was the obvious choice to lead a karaoke night.
So Blow-Chi songs — during which Rush writhes on the floor like a teen-age boy practicing for the day he becomes a rock star — are interspersed between audience members’ turns at the mic during Brodioke. “It’s really more Blow-Chioke than Brodioke, but that’s harder to say,” Rush explains.
It may be the Blow-Chi that helps loosen people up. “Don’t be shy,” he encouraged bar visitors around 6 p.m. one Monday. At that early hour, the crowd was one table of still-sober hipsters and one especially talented cocktail waitress. “Here’s how to not be shy,” he added, launching into one of his songs.
Eccentric social events such as this often have a feeling of exclusiveness, but Brodioke has a warm vibe, and a diverse crowd keeps mocking attitudes at bay. “It’s like having a party where no one isn’t invited,” Rush says, “and the host cares about you, greets you at the door and says, ‘Hi, I’m Blow-Chi. What’s your name?’ I’m a pleaser, not a teaser.”
Even though hosting a karaoke night isn’t the same as a playing with a band, Rush says he’s enjoying it and thinks it could become bigger than his rock shows. “You play a rock show, and you get maybe ten people who are like, ‘Yeah!'” he says, giving a double thumbs-up. “One of the most addictive things about this is that I get the whole bar.”
