Graham and McGrath: The Starry Plough has these Irish sessions one night a week, and the house has rules, one of which is NO TALKING DURING THE SINGING. There is a crowd of regulars and semi-regulars who know and respect the rules: this crowd includes many of the serious drinkers, one of whom approached me after the first song I did there ("Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye," accompanying myself on the banjo) and told me that he wished I was the whole program--but even he was quiet and respectful for the other singers, most of whom perform a capella.

For people who want to talk, it's accepted during the instrumental session--and, of course, before the session begins at 8 p.m. For those who can't abide by those strictures, Berkeley is full of other bars.

On the other hand, at Quinn's Lighthouse, I've ofthe found myself quite unable to make out the lyrics even when I'm sitting right in front of the band--most of the people in that part of the room want to hear the band (or throw the free peanuts at each other), but the room has a large rectangular area, like an elevator shaft, in the middle, seperating the bar from the music area, and the noise from the bar side often is quite loud, and the people in the other half, furthest from the band and largely unable to hear it, also talk--often loudly, probably no more than a dozen of the thirty or forty people on the floor have any idea what Skip Henderson or the other band members (including WintersWages of the Mudcat) are singing: with Skip this is a particular problem: he's a fine, very expressive singer but with limited volume so I have a lot of difficulty hearing him. Jim, the banjo player, projects a bit better, but the member who really gets the crowd going, Mordecai ben-Hershel, now lives in Hawaii and only occasionally appears.

I've strayed a bit from the subject here, but it is related to the subject of performers and audience relations, so I hope you'll forgive me.

--seed