Roots Cafe: A Decade Rooted in Music and Community, By Jody Callahan

Folk musicians perform

 In 2008, a bearded and tatted up Alabama man named Jamey Hamm founded Roots Café in Brooklyn’s South Slope. The goal: bring back the grungy community center that was the typical indie coffeehouse of yesteryear. The shop still hides between a pharmacy and a cell phone store at the corner of 5th Ave and 18th street. An old-country rock’n’roller, Jamey also created a foothold for urban Americana music when he began an open mic that spawned a modest but significant music scene. He and other musicians who were either employed at Roots or were regulars of the shop drew crowds sharing the same line up bill not only at the cafe but places like Little Field, Union Pool, and Rockwood Music Hall. After two children and too damn high rents, Jamey moved back to Alabama.

He passed the torch to a Tennessee husband and wife team he knew from church. Christian and Amanda Neill brought an unabashed kindness and southern hospitality that made Roots Café a slice of home away from home no matter where a person might hail from. They were unable to keep the open mic, but the music scene was kindled with sporadic shows that always filled the narrow corridor that is Roots Café’s seating area.

The Neills made their exit and handed the cafe, now a pillar of the South Slope community, to their friends from church, Patricia and Gareth Manwaring from upstate New York. I wondered what a Yankee couple (I’m a Georgia boy) might bring to the coffee house founded on and built with the best bits of the South. The answer is more kindness and community. Patricia curated the found art and “junk art” from the old days honoring the roots of Roots Cafe. The shop still attracts musicians and artists of all kinds as Patricia and Gareth make their mission to foster and nurture music and arts through the bastion of community they’ve inherited.

The open mic is back. Every Thursday Roots opens at 7pm. They hide the register and tiny kitchen with a curtain, setup some mics, a drum kit, and a large keyboard. Then it’s literally whatever anyone wants to do. Wide open format. I watched two little girls with earbuds plugged into an old iPod get up in front of everyone, close their eyes, and sing along to songs only they could hear. I watched a family folk band who made Roots a pit stop along their travels across the country. I saw a mild-mannered dog walker become Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. It is truly a living room where all are welcome to come sing, play, and create. Not only is it free, but Roots Café makes no money. The kitchen remains closed. It’s BYOB. They’ll even provide you a beer or wine if you find yourself without. So, get yourself to Roots Café where writers write, painters paint, and music players play.

 

 

Share:

Facebook
Twitter
LinkedIn

One Comment

  1. Sweet sounding place…

READ OUR FULL PRINT EDITION

Our Sister Publication

a word from our sponsors!

Latest Media Guide!

Where to find the Star-Revue

Instagram

How many have visited our site?

wordpress hit counter

Social Media

Most Popular

On Key

Related Posts

Film: “Union” documents SI union organizers vs. Amazon, by Dante A. Ciampaglia

Our tech-dominated society is generous with its glimpses of dystopia. But there’s something especially chilling about the captive audience meetings in the documentary Union, which screened at the New York Film Festival and is currently playing at IFC Center. Chronicling the fight of the Amazon Labor Union (ALU), led by Chris Smalls, to organize the Amazon fulfillment warehouse in Staten

An ode to the bar at the edge of the world, review by Oscar Fock

It smells like harbor, I thought as I walked out to the end of the pier to which the barge now known as the Waterfront Museum was docked. Unmistakable were they, even for someone like me — maybe particularly for someone like me, who’s always lived far enough from the ocean to never get used to its sensory impressions, but

Quinn on Books: In Search of Lost Time

Review of “Countée Cullen’s Harlem Renaissance,” by Kevin Brown Review by Michael Quinn   “Yet do I marvel at this curious thing: / To make a poet black, and bid him sing!” – Countée Cullen, “Yet Do I Marvel” Come Thanksgiving, thoughts naturally turn to family and the communities that shape us. Kevin Brown’s “Countée Cullen’s Harlem Renaissance” is a

MUSIC: Wiggly Air, by Kurt Gottschalk

Mothers of reinvention. “It’s never too late to be what you might have been,” according to writer George Eliot, who spoke from experience. Born in the UK in 1819, Mary Ann Evans found her audience using the masculine pen name in order to avoid the scrutiny of the patriarchal literati. Reinvention, of style if not self, is in the air