Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Water, water everywhere and all the boards did shrink Water, water everywhere nor any drop to drink- Iron Maiden (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

The Mariner's Daughter in St. Andrews is quite an unassuming place when you step thru their front  portal.  You are greeted by the sea foam tinted bric-a-brac of interior decorations for sale in their retail shop.

I proceeded toward the darkened back room which seemed cozy and I realized I was in the right place.  It reminded me of Frank Lloyd Wright and his concept of compress and release. I grabbed a seat and nodded to all the faces that were new to me.  The Bay County music scene is quite diverse.  There are many musicians of all levels in this area, and some cliques overlap, while others are oblivious to each other.  I try to blend in with all of them with varying degrees of success.

I hear a loud BOOM outside and notice the thundering rain coming down.  The thought of riding my motorcycle home and getting soaked sets in.  "Oh well, at least I live close" I think.  I glance at the bar and notice the draft towers.  They have some good choices up there so I order an IPA.  Why is it that the rain situation and draft beer selection seem to dictate my experiences?

I am greeted by the owner/bartender. "My name is Tim" he says.  "So is mine." a patron chimes in.  "Mine too" a fellow behind me tuning up a ukelele says. I immediately think of the old "Newhart" show with the Darryl brothers.  A nice lady comes to the bar from the storefront.  "I am not named Tim." she says with a laugh and adds "I am Diane."

The bar is smoke-free and has ICE COLD a/c, which is amazing, because the front door is wide open.  This makes me think of New Orleans.  A typical 200 sqft storefront will have a 5 ton unit blasting cold air out into the humidity all day long.  I am starting to like this place, already.  There is a unique custom in Bay County of having "drink and crawl home" convenience.  Many bars could be classified as this, and the Mariner's Daughter is no exception.

I watch the bartender fill my pint glass and notice the curbing where I parked starting to fill up with water at the same rate.  I see that half my tire is under water, and I plan on staying awhile.  I settle into a comfortable chair and greet Chloe, Tim the ukelele player's young daughter who gives me a shy wave, as I had seen them both previously at an event at Floriopolis, an art gallery next door.


Forrest the host of the open mic comes in carrying a slice of pizza from a place in the rear alley.  He has a P.A. set up and a keyboard. I notice a guitar case behind him and start to wish I had brought my bass.    His appearance was a bit deceiving much like this venue.  He could just as easily look at home on a surfboard. He begins to sing and play and his great voice reminds me of a cross between Randy Newman and Elvis Costello and he played chord progressions reminiscent of Supertramp and Electric Light Orchestra.

Between sets we talk and he tells me he runs sound at one of the superclubs on the beach.  I tell him about my musical skill level and my blog.  He has been running sound via an app on his phone and a call comes in.  Someone is trying to work the equipment at his job and they are having trouble.

Tim the ukelele player takes the stage and his playing method reminds me of a mandolin player.  He plays some hits from the 1960s and some old music hall classics from the UK.  His daughter joins him on one or two songs.


Forrest takes the stage again and I notice something really funny.  He subtly peppers his singing with phrases like "Yo quiero Taco Bell"  "Hey, bartender I need a drink" and "Matt, do you play anything besides bass?"  all without losing rhythm.  He is extremely versatile as a musician and one could enjoy his playing while eating in a grand steakhouse in Chicago just as well as over a hotdog of questionable provenance.

The rain lets up, I pay my tab and with a wave, Forrest invites me back.  He has an "every other week" rotation.

When I arrived home, my wife asked "How did it go?"

"They have wine-based liquor." I said

"Whine based?" She asked.

"I think it is excellent shopping excursion, but no proof." I replied.

What else could I say?

Stir up that MONKEYDUST!

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