30/30 Night Twenty Seven Recap | Night Twenty Eight Deets
222 Ormsby has long been an elusive member on my concert agenda. I’m intimidated by how off the grid it is, as though it’s some exclusive club that only the hippest of the hipsters can be a part of. It was only until yesterday, my first visit to Ormsby, that I learned how very wrong I was. Ormsby is just as welcoming and accessible as any other mom-and-pop venue in the Pgh, such as Garfield Artworks or the old Mr. Roboto Project. We had an opportunity to chat with Ormsby’s owner and another fella who operates the place. Turns out their concept is pretty damn cool, and interesting.
Max lives upstairs from the infamous Ormsby, which is nestled on a quiet hill in Mt. Oliver. He shares the place with five others and his adorable dog whose name has escaped me. They’ve been having regular gigs at this spot for about four years now. They make no profit by having shows, which are held on a donation-only basis since they legally cannot charge at the door. Though – you look like a broke ass douche if you don’t cough up $5 in support of the music. Local bands play Ormsby for free, while the out-of-towners receive an equal share of the show’s donations. In exchange, the favor is returned on the road. Local bands build relationships with the touring acts who get them the paid gigs when they visit their city, sustaining the touring circuit, and offering a chance for bands who otherwise might not get to travel, a shot at putting themselves out there on the national scene. This idealistic touring economy makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. To think that someone would operate a venue essentially from blood, sweat and tears – that’s a true passion for live music. Props to you, 222 Ormsby!
Have I mentioned how much I love saying their name? 222 just rolls off the tongue. Couple it with Ormsby – a goofy and fun to say word, and well, it’s like scratching that spot in the middle of your back that you can’t quite reach. 222 Ormsby. Ahh. I’m strange. While sitting there watching the show, a few things popped into my mind. I thought about the two random hot chicks standing in the back. They were clearly out of place but seemed comfortable. They were clearly Ormsby groupies, as 95% of the venue’s attendees are male. Ten years ago, those broads would have been me. I used to frequent LAN parties for the same reason. Yeah, I said LAN parties. Too bad I didn’t land me a honey back then – he’s probably making bank working for Apple now. Dayom. Then I started to think about whether or not all of these peeps actually lived on Mt. Oliver – seeing that Pittsburgh is so geographically defined and people generally do not cross bridges or rivers to do something cool. They’d rather hit up the same old spot week after week, no matter how stale or shitty the band. I s’pose if you’re stuck atop Mount Oliver, 222 Ormsby is its diamond in the rough. There was an equal ratio of Chucks to Sambas, which totally went against my preconceived notion of Ormsby’s demographic being entirely comprised of gutter punks. That will teach me to stereotype. I have a habit of that. You’d think I would have learned something by now – day twenty friggin seven, but no!
Tonight we’re going all out and celebrating the birth of one of our dear friends and NakYouOut PIC (partner in crime – duh!). We’ll be heading to Howler’s in Bloomfield for Punk Rock Karaoke. I have been looking forward to attending this since our 30 days began. I can’t wait to see who gets drunk first and does a song. All bets are on me.