August 26, 2026 | Brooklyn, New York
Part one of the three-part “NYC Summer ’26” travel series
Getting Ready to Sing in Brooklyn
It was a warm evening on August 26, 2026, and I was dressed and ready to sing at the Livingroom Series Open Mic Night in Brooklyn, New York City. This was the beginning of my three-part “NYC Summer ’26” travel series, and although the night was centered around a performance, I had a feeling it would become about much more than simply stepping onstage.
Before leaving the dormitory, I did a little rehearsal in the bathroom. It may not be the most glamorous rehearsal space, but every singer understands that a bathroom can offer surprisingly useful acoustics. The walls give the voice a little extra lift, and the room becomes a private testing ground for breath, tone, and confidence.
A quick pre-show rehearsal and a mirror check before heading out.
After that brief preparation, I headed out and took the 1 train downtown from 103rd Street.
The journey downtown became part of the night’s rhythm before the music began.
The journey carried me toward an evening of music, new connections, and the kind of unexpected moments that tend to become the most memorable parts of a trip.
Returning to the Livingroom Experience
The open mic took place at Se7ven Bar and Social Lounge in Brooklyn, a venue listed for the event as The Se7en Lounge. This was my second time visiting the space and singing at this open mic, and I had not been disappointed on my first visit. When I entered, I immediately felt a welcoming atmosphere, with friendly gestures and an openness that made the room feel comfortable before the music had even begun.
The space was relatively small, but that was part of its appeal. Couches were placed throughout the room in a way that resembled a comfortable living room, which helped explain the name “Livingroom Series.” The arrangement created an intimate setting rather than the feeling of a distant stage separated from the audience. The bar and DJ section were positioned at the back of the room, while the seating brought people closer together.
The room’s atmosphere was already taking shape before the performances began.
As the evening continued, patrons slowly trickled in and eventually filled the room’s capacity. There was a gradual sense of anticipation as people settled into their seats, greeted one another, and waited for the show to begin. The atmosphere felt social without losing its focus on performance.
The host arrived and kicked off the show at approximately 8 p.m. From what I understood, the tradition of the event was for the host to perform solo for an hour, followed by a brief intermission during which artists could sign up for the open mic section. After that, the open mic officially commenced.
And yes, I signed up. That was the main reason I was there, after all.
Pineapple Juice, Chicken Wings, and an Unexpected Connection
While I waited for my name to be called, one of the bartenders and operators gave me a nice glass of pineapple juice, which I had asked for. I took a seat on one of the couches and began meeting and talking with some amazing people. In a setting like that, conversation can develop naturally because everyone is gathered around a shared interest in music, performance, or simply being part of the evening.
There was one small incident involving the couch that became an unexpected part of the night.
A couple, a man and a woman, walked in, saw me sitting on one of the couches, and then asked the bartender for my seat. The bartender came over and explained the situation to me. I could have objected, especially because there was no reservation sign on the couch, but I was feeling too happy to dispute it. For the sake of peace, I gave up the very comfortable seat.
It was a small thing, but it could easily have become an unpleasant distraction. Instead, the owner of the bar noticed what had happened, came over to me, and offered me free chicken wings because of my kindness. She also apologized for the situation and made my pineapple juice free. That gesture meant a lot to me because it showed consideration, and her response turned an awkward moment into an opportunity for connection.
At the time, I assumed the couple might have been regulars at the lounge and perhaps felt entitled to that particular couch. Even so, that would not necessarily have given them the right to the seat if they had not reserved it beforehand. But, as it turned out, there was no need to hold on to the frustration. We moved on.
Through that situation, I got to know the owner. We talked, formed a network, and developed a friendly bond. In that sense, the evening reminded me that travel and performance are often shaped by the small interactions surrounding the main event. The stage may be the reason for arriving, but the people encountered along the way often become part of the real story.
“Jay J. Ra!”: Representing Toronto in New York
After the host performed, the intermission ended, and several other talented artists took their turns, my name was called.
“Jay J. Ra!”
I promptly proceeded to the stage and greeted the crowd. I told them that I was visiting from Toronto, and they responded with a mixture of excitement and surprise. A visitor from Toronto appearing at a Brooklyn open mic could seem like an anomaly, especially in such an intimate setting where many people appeared to be connected to the local creative community.
I began singing Michael Jackson’s classic “You Are Not Alone.” A few seconds after I started, the band joined in. The background singers followed, and then the crowd began singing along. From that point, the performance seemed to take on a life of its own. The musicians, singers, and audience were no longer separate parts of the room; everyone was contributing to the atmosphere of the song.
The performance continued with a steady sense of momentum until the very end. When the song finished, the crowd cheered and applauded. I thanked them sincerely for the positive energy they had given me. More than anything, I appreciated that they had embraced a Torontonian anomaly. Someone who had travelled into their space and was grateful to be received by it.
I had an amazing time that night. I met other like-minded people, networked with other artists, and created bonds that I hope will last a lifetime. Those connections were just as important as the performance itself because they reinforced the value of showing up in unfamiliar places with openness and purpose.
The Moon Over the Brooklyn Museum
After leaving the lounge, I walked up the street and looked toward the sky. The moon appeared almost otherworldly, surrounded by a glow and clouds that made it look like something from a science-fiction film.
The night outside the lounge opened into a wider New York scene.
But, of course, it was the other way around. Science fiction copies nature. It imitates the moon and presents versions of it on film, reassuring the old phrase that art imitates life, or art imitates nature. The real moon did not need special effects. The clouds, the light, and the darkness had already created an image more striking than anything designed for a screen.
To get a more complete view of it, I went to the steps of the Brooklyn Museum, which was just across the road. Apparently, sitting on the steps of the Brooklyn Museum is a thing, because couples, lovers, friends, and people sitting alone were all there, bonding and enjoying the night.
The museum steps and surrounding streets gave the evening a quieter second act.
That scene gave the evening a second setting. Inside the lounge, music had brought strangers together through performance. Outside, beneath the moonlight, people were sharing the night in quieter ways. The contrast felt natural: first the energy of the stage, then the stillness of the city after the music had ended.
The Beginning of “NYC Summer ’26”
Watching the moon from the Brooklyn Museum steps brought the evening to a gentle but somewhat epic conclusion. It was the kind of experience that many people might dream about or fantasize about, yet there I was, sitting in New York City after performing at an open mic, taking in the night as it unfolded.
The Livingroom Series gave me a place to sing, but the experience also gave me a reminder about artistic travel. A performance does not exist separately from the journey taken to reach it. It includes the bathroom rehearsal, the train from 103rd Street, the pineapple juice, the displaced couch, the chicken wings, the conversations, the artists who performed before me, and the audience that welcomed me from Toronto.
By the end of the night, the travel itself had become part of the story.
This first entry in “NYC Summer ’26” begins with music, but it also begins with community. The night showed me how a small room can hold a wide range of experiences, and how an open mic can become a meeting point for artists, audiences, venue operators, and passing visitors.
The music ended, but the journey had only started.
For more about Jay J. Ra’s musical background and ongoing creative work, visit the artist biography. His wider catalogue is also featured in “Music Is Life.”