A Jam At Alcove

Let me set the scene for you: It’s May, I’ve just finished a three-hour philosophy class, and I’m exhausted on the train. With a bit of time to kill before the Thursday night jam sessions at Alcove start, I decide to grab a mango Sparkling Ice before heading down. 

I arrived pretty early, and not many people were there yet. People were setting up the stage with instruments and mics, and the front door was cracked open, letting in a cool breeze. I felt a bit intimidated, unaccustomed to being in a space where I hardly knew anyone. I probably looked like a deer in headlights, trying to figure out what to do. So, I did what I do best and just watched.

Rows of chairs were arranged facing the stage, where a large blue rug lay on the floor, bordered by a red armchair and a large black couch. A faint purple glow emanated from the Alcove above the stage, while light from a nearby window cast a beautiful glow over certain parts of the space. I set my things down on the floor and wandered aimlessly, admiring the art supplies on the walls and the work people had created. To sum up how I felt without going into too much detail, it was simply "chill." The place was amazing during a jam session.

I was entranced by the beauty of the people around me and how they expressed it through their music. Slowly, the room began to fill with more and more people. Low whispers turned into soft chatter as everyone immersed themselves in the atmosphere. It was a sight to behold—groovy tunes playing at the front, a game of Connect Four to the left of the stage, and artists working silently in the back. Chairs were filled with an array of people laughing and talking with one another. It was truly something to marvel at.

There was something deeply enjoyable about seeing people who looked like they worked in corporate Calgary performing impressive guitar riffs at the end of the day. Men and women in perfectly tailored suits sat behind heavy drums, playing them masterfully, or stood at the mic, their powerful voices reverberating throughout the space. It was a stunning juxtaposition. Music pulsed through the walls like a steady heartbeat, and as the space gradually filled with more people, I felt increasingly at ease. It even got to the point where I pulled out my iPad and started working on my philosophy class assignments—something I hadn’t planned to do for a few days.

My absolute favorite part of the jam session was the incredible atmosphere. I smile now, remembering how the host of the night looked at me and asked if I wanted to join in. While my lack of musical ability tells me I should never pursue it as a career, it was heartwarming to see how attentive the host was to both the musicians on stage and those in the audience. 

Looking back now, I am reminded of how Alcove comes alive during a jam session. The sea of both familiar and unfamiliar faces entranced in the creativity of each other. It's beautiful to witness the duality of a space. How it can change completely because of the people inside. It gives Alcove a life of its own. The fact that jams happen every Thursday gives me and others something to look forward to each week. I stayed for a while, thoroughly enjoying the vibrant atmosphere. But, as with all good things, it had to come to an end. I checked the time and realized I needed to catch the train if I wanted to make it home before dark. Stepping out of Alcove, I was once again face-to-face with the bustling downtown streets, surrounded by the sounds of trains, cars, and crowds of people passing by.

Written by: Neamat Ahmed