I so needed this place. I never would've guessed that this little tin bait and tackle shop nestled on the outskirts of town would feel so much like home. I remember playing music here with my dad and his good friend when the shop first opened- it was the night of my senior prom- close to ten years ago. My hair and makeup were ready to go and I was playing my baritone with long acrylic nails that drove me crazy. (I was never again seen wearing acrylic nails strictly because of the sheer difficulty I experienced attempting proper chords)
When I moved back home last spring, the locals all told me I needed to sing at Carey's. I didn't know what anyone was talking about until he came into my work on a slower night last summer while I was tending bar. I had a handful of travelers eating at the back of the bar, and about 8 or 9 local regulars all sitting up at the bar together, insisting I sing for them to show Carey what I was made of. My coworker ran and got my uke out of my car for me and I sang my little heart out for them, sitting on the bartop. I would check on customers and pour drinks between songs, and everyone was having a blast. The travelers in the back left a decent tip and noted that watching the old local regulars gathered around me in amazement as though they were watching colored TV for the first time was the highlight of their stop in our little backcountry town. I don't really like to play unless people ask, because I still struggle sometimes with taking up space. But they ate it up. Carey too. His big toothy grin and warm laugh said more than enough, but he let me know that he remembered me, that he was good fishing pals with my dad, and that I was welcome to come sing on his stage anytime I'd like. "You got pipes, girl. Bring em around the shop sometime. Them strings, too. Donation dinners and $3 beers, but you drink for free. Somebody's gotta have live music around here, it may as well be us."
I've played music there a few times now, and each time I feel more and more like I'm where I need to be. Carey goes out of his way to make me feel wanted, included, and really a part of something special each time I'm there. In recent pictures and videos there, I look the happiest and healthiest I've felt since I've moved back. I was worried I wouldn't have a space to nurture my music and have that outlet here, and feared that that part of me was another thing I would be leaving behind in my previous city life. But it fills my cup beyond what I had expected, and my first memory there being with my dad is even more an added bonus.
I have an old gig poster for Carey to put on the wall next time I pop in, and I have plans in motion to host open mic nights. I'm beginning to think I might have to try to record a little live album in there this year. The acoustics in the shop are killer, and the crowd is always small and laid back enough to get hilarious commentary between songs. Another bait shop performer is, in my humble opinion, probably the best blues and bluegrass guitar player in idaho, and he wants to back me up on my upcoming original ep. Good things are happening, right where it all began for me. I am stoked, humbled, greatful, and ready.
