Texas Firelight Theater's Press Clipboard

Oct. 15, 2001 Houston Chronicle ZEST Article           

Jan 26, 2004 Houston Chronicle Business Section Article 

Step inside this house:

Host Larry Lyon, far left, peers over the balcony to watch Bill Ward's performance during a recent house concert in Lyon's living room.

Informal concerts give folk performers a forum

By MARTY RACINE - Copyright 2001 Houston Chronicle

All Photos: Karen Warren / Chronicle

These songs are made to be heard in the listening rooms across the country. Rooms where a singer with their guitar or piano can find both refuge and recognition for a craft that is often overlooked and under appreciated. Rooms that can be, and often are, sanctuaries, museums, coffeehouses, back yards and living rooms. Wow! Living rooms. Used to be people lived in living rooms. Families would play games together, have company over and entertain there. They would use that room for something besides a place to hold their televisions. Somehow maybe this whole house-concert thing will bring back the living room and accomplish two things: get the music out to the people, and get the people back to themselves.  -- liner notes to Bill Ward's self-titled CD

FOUR days after Sept. 11, Houston singer-songwriter Bill Ward sang America the Beautiful a cappella in a Clear Lake living room. The two-story house seemed to lift from its foundation.

And that is the nature of house concerts. Essentially parties centered on live music, with a donation going to the artist, they bring audience and performer together on a personal level. In the process, they provide a do-it-yourself, grass-roots system for distributing music -- mostly acoustic and lyrics-based -- that's independent of the music industry.

The notion of music in the home surely dates back as far as the very need for song among friends. "It's kind of an extension of when there was no radio and people played music in the parlor," says Rod Kennedy, producer of the annual Kerrville Folk Festival.

House concerts began in the 1960s when songsters touring on the coasts picked up impromptu gigs between standard club appearances. Texas got into the act a decade later, and today there are an estimated 30 regularly scheduled house concerts statewide.

Ward, 45, remembers playing his first house concert, 10 years ago in the Fort Stockton home of Annie Riggs Museum curator Mary Kay Shannon.

"It was amazing. I remember it was a novel idea to have someone sit there and listen to your music intently, instead of people sitting a few tables back drinking and talking or shooting pool. There was an intensity of somebody hanging on every word -- which is very spooky but very fulfilling."

Attention. It's what songsters crave. And at house concerts, they get it. "It was just a cool idea, and I loved it," Ward says. "I realized that listening rooms and/or house concerts were the ultimate places to play."

Chris Gage, from left, Christine Albert, Bill Ward and host Larry Lyon sit next to the pool during the break between performers on a recent evening at Lyon's home.

He said goodbye to clubs and all their extraneous noise and began booking house concerts and coffeehouse gigs sponsored by Unitarian churches. All he needed was 80 people at $10 or $15 a head for a very profitable evening.

While house concerts are open to the public, they're rarely advertised. Most are promoted by word of mouth, or word of e-mail from the producer's database, which assembles a select audience from a roomful of "strangers."

The music starts early, around 7 p.m., and is over by 11. Sometimes a song circle or picking party will follow late into the night. Often there's an opening act. In Clear Lake, Ward opened for Austin's Christine Albert and Chris Gage. Sometimes Lyon will do a pre-opening set. "About every third concert, I'll get up," he says. "Some people like to hear my music every now and then."

Most house concerts, unless they are in the back yard, are nonsmoking -- another boon for artists, even smokers like Ward. "You or I might go out to a club once a week, but an artist has to go out five nights a week and breathe that stuff," Paul Barker, a house-concert producer in Austin, points out.

Some house concerts are nonalcohol, but most are BYOB. Commonly there's a potluck food spread. They use a modest sound system or go unplugged. Ward sees advantages to either. "It just makes you listen more when (it's unplugged). But without a mike, I tend to overproject. After a few hours, boy, that hurts." 

"We do have a sound system, but more for balancing," Lyon says. "The room is so live, we really don't need amplification." 

Sonny Ochs, sister of the late legendary folk singer Phil Ochs, hosts house concerts in upstate New York.

"The great thing about a house concert is you don't have to have a sound system," Ochs says. "The performers all say it's so great being close to an audience and not being tied to a microphone."

Bill Ward strums his guitar near Larry Lyon's pool.

The concert host makes no profit; the entire take normally goes to the performer. A percentage might go to charity. The hosts' reward is the convenience and honor of having a favorite artist performing in their home.

For the performer, the financial windfall can be significant. House concerts, Ochs says, are like "found money" -- especially if the artist sells a number of CDs after the show.

Tom Russell refused for years to do a house concert, until Bruce Rouse of Rouse House Concerts in Austin talked him into it, Ward says. "He made like $2,400 at the door and sold $1,000 worth of CDs. That's a good night for two 45-minute sets."

But house-concert producers choose their words judiciously to avoid any suggestion of commerce. "I'm very careful not to use the word 'sellout,' because that would constitute a business," Lyon says. "We have 'capacity crowds.' " He doesn't sell "tickets," and he doesn't take "reservations." He asks for "advance contributions" by mail to reserve seats. Lyon makes no financial guarantees to the artists and has nothing to do with their CD sales.  "I don't touch the product. I never touch the money. What (artists) do is their business and not mine."

Some artists have written contracts, especially if they're booked by an agency. Most, like Ward, seal the deal with a handshake. "These people you pretty much know, anyway," he says. Ward's business manager, Sharon Warrington, sometimes sells her pottery at the concerts.

House-concert producers name their enterprises, establish Web sites and are mindful of their reputations, Ward says. "They never let the quality slide beneath a certain level." If an artist is not widely known, producers will first want to see him or her perform. "They're not going to just listen to your CD and book you," Ward says. "They have to know that you're going to put on a quality show."

Barker, who does about 10-12 shows a year in Austin, searches for new talent at the Folk Alliance, an annual trade mart for music producers and music makers. And he's invariably a "front-row guy" at the Kerrville Folk Festival, looking for deserving unknowns. "Ninety percent of my audience has never heard of the artist I bring in," he says. "They are pretty much trusting you that you're going to bring in somebody that they like."

When Ochs moved from New York City to the woods 15 years ago, she had to create and educate an audience of farmers, shopkeepers, town supervisors and the bookkeeper for the local supermarket. "It's a strange collection of people," she says. "They come because they trust me."

Barker books his shows well in advance. Ochs schedules at the performer's leisure. "I live in an area where a lot of artists are moving through," she says. "They call and ask if they can stay overnight on their way to Boston or wherever. They would normally be sitting in a hotel practicing their chords or something. They can pick up a free place to stay, free meals and a few hundred bucks." That keeps down an artist's overhead for a house-concert tour. On the road, Ward and Warrington usually stay with their hosts, though not everybody does. "Some single women may not want to stay at their house," Ward says. "And some people are very private; they don't want to share the other part of their life with whoever's booking them."

Barker, who moved to Austin from Houston nine years ago and is fire chief for Westlake Hills, hadn't even heard of house concerts when he began incorporating live music in parties and asking for contributions for the musicians. "Just like somebody might rent a movie for a large party, I 'rented' musicians." It's not difficult to get started, he says. "I tell people that want to do it, `If you can get 20 people together at $10 a person. ... ' "

Former Houstonians Glen and Cheryl Duckett began their Flowers in the Desert house-concert series in Brenham six years ago, hosting shows in their home and then at the local library -- until the library argued that the concerts should be free to the community. They moved their events to a 100-year-old church in Chappell Hill, restored by the historical society.

Chris Gage, left, and Christine Albert perform for a small audience in Larry Lyon's home on a recent evening.

In a pamphlet titled Producing House Concerts, the Ducketts advise would-be hosts to consider the reality of having strangers in their home. Hosts should be comfortable socializing and speaking to crowds. They must be organized and have money to cover details. And they need to establish a routine that will have guests anticipating the next show.

"Most of the families who are doing this have learned the hospitality industry rapidly," Kennedy says. "They take into consideration everything for the artist's and the people's comfort. And they lay down a few house rules: Don't feed the dog, don't smoke, if you go to the john please go between songs."

When she began, Ochs found her four-room cabin too small for most shows. "I can only seat about 23 people with a shoehorn, so I said to my dentist, 'How would you like to do a house concert?' So we'd do one in his house. And then the supervisor of the next town said, 'You can use my house.' We'd move it around." She also uses a one-room rural church and has even had concerts in the meeting room of the Ambulance Corps, for which she volunteers. A portion of the proceeds is donated to the corps.

When Lyon was house hunting in Clear Lake, his priority was finding a place suitable for house concerts. That meant a street configuration in which parking didn't obstruct the neighbors, and a large living room. "You can have (shows) outside," he says, "but you have to worry about the weather or disturbing the neighbors."

His living room is furnished with a riser, track lighting and wall clocks for the performers. The dining room's hardwood floor can be cleared for dancing. Still, Lyon encountered opposition from his homeowners association, which sent an attorney out. "I told him that people had the right constitutionally to assemble," he says. "It's the same as having the guys over for pizza and beer. If they're pitching in, that doesn't mean I'm running a restaurant."

The attorney expressed concern about potential litter problems. So Lyon offered to pick up trash in neighbors' yards. The attorney dropped the issue. Lyon is used to dealing with lawyers. As a licensed professional counselor, he provides expert testimony in court cases. Lately, the homeowners association has left him alone.

In a way, the prestigious Kerrville Folk Festival, whose outdoor shows have a living-room feel, is an extension of the house concert phenomenon. The festival provides a forum for artists flying beneath the radar of pop culture. To a great, forgotten segment of music lovers, these songsters supply what Kennedy calls intellectual and emotional nutrition.

"In our society today, there's very little intimacy between strangers, very little direct humanity shared by us as a people. We do everything by mail or by computer, and we're driving in and driving out. We don't have the warm handshake or embrace kind of relationship with neighbors, friends and business people," he says. "Our lives are lacking genuineness, and genuineness just flows from these singer-songwriters. I think that the major source of humanity, of insight that other people have the problems I have, or the dreams that I have, or feel as I do, or can make me recall my childhood, are these singer-songwriters.

"If you're looking for those things and maybe even a spiritual optimism, that's what comes out of house concerts."

Bay Glen has open feeling, plus recreation

Clear Lake's Bay Glen helped usher in a new era of home plans after Houston's economic downturn in the mid-1980s.

"During that time, builders kind of retooled their product," says Mike Canary of Re/Max Space Center. "When they started building again in Bay Glen, they had taller ceilings, more open floor plans and bigger kitchens."

The neighborhood's one- and two-stories built from 1986 to 1990 were an upgrade from their predecessors, with compartmentalized rooms and 8-foot ceilings. Homes were built by Village Builders, Bright Homes and Ryland Homes.

Houses originally sold from the upper $70,000s to the low $90,000s, Canary says. Today they range from $130,000 to $200,000. The steep ascent in values started about five years ago, as home construction began to taper off in Clear Lake City. The master-planned community was started in 1963 on the fringe of the NASA complex. The selection includes traditional brick houses ranging from 1,450 square feet to 2,100 square feet. Some plans feature the master bedrooms downstairs.

Residents Larry and Jean Lyon chose their home for an unusual reason: The open floor plan was good for hosting concerts. Instead of an entertainment center in their living room, they have a stage. At the top of the stairway, the balcony serves as a seating area.

"It looks like a normal house," Larry Lyon says. "We bring in a few extra chairs, and voilà." The concerts, where up to 50 guests bring potluck dishes and small contributions for the performer, will end soon because the Lyons are moving out of state.

The exemplary rated Ward Elementary boasts a diverse student body that is represented by flags of many nations hanging in its entry hall. Planning is evident within and outside the subdivision. It is neatly bordered by fences and jogging paths. Two pocket parks provide a place for tennis and swimming.

Nearby is the golf course community of Bay Oaks, where custom houses start around $300,000; Bay Pointe, which has slightly newer houses; and Bay Knoll, which was developed around the same time with bigger houses.

Source: Crawford Realty Advisors prepared this analysis based on information compiled by the Houston Association of Realtors - www.HAR.com.