$5 Student Discount available for tickets purchased at the Iridium Box Office with valid student I.D.
“Mondays at The House” is a new monthly emerging artists concert series presented by John Loeffler, Founder & Executive Director of Fieldhouse-Music BMG, and Grace Blake, Producer and General Manager at The Iridium. “Our premiere showcase was a hit and the momentum for those performers continues as they all have left for tours across the U.S.,” says John Loeffler.
“Mondays at The House” is a monthly showcase presenting talent curated by Fieldhouse-BMG and Iridium as a means of discovering, nurturing, and promoting the very best unsigned artists in the country today. Industry mixers and meet and greets follow the performances, and aspiring artists in the audience are encouraged to bring samples of their own music to be considered for an upcoming showcase.
Email: email@example.com to be considered.
Sophie Auster is an award winning singer and songwriter, born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. She has toured all over the world and has been featured in Vogue, Elle, Les InRocks, Spin, Glamour, Paris Match, Rolling Stone, Velvet, Paper, Nylon, Porter, and was spotlighted as one of W Magazine’s rising young stars. Auster’s last album has been praised by The New York Times for its “sultry, folksy vocals” and W Magazine calls it “soaring.” John Osburn of the acclaimed music blog, Obsburt raves: “Each song was a realization, and a high point. Her voice is relentlessly surprising, shimmering with folk, blues, concert rock, and cabaret.” Auster has made two LP’s, her self titled debut released under Naive records, Dogs and Men, and one EP, Red Weather. Her forthcoming album, Next Time, is due out in 2018.
On a cold New York January winter evening in 2013, Pat Via and Mitch Mitchell had not yet met, but were making their way separately through the snow covered West Village streets to a gallery opening on Jane Street, never expecting the twist of fate the night would unveil. Once there, Pat was making the rounds, clad in downtown black from head to toe, weaving through the crowd, whiskey in hand, with one eye on the art and the other on the Soho amazons gathered there that night, when a friend offered to introduce him to a fellow musician, Mitchell C. Mitchell, who was boisterously holding court in a back corner of the gallery, his face hidden beneath a fedora and a mane of unruly hair, his neon colored fingernails weaving nimbly through the air as he spoke. The two immediately hit it off, debating the rumor that Rock and Roll was officially dead, Bach concertos, girls wearing miniskirts in winter, and other such things one discusses on the way to the bottom of a bottle. As they parted ways that night, they agreed that Rock was very much still alive and just needed a swift kick in the ass to get it going again, so they arranged to meet for a jam session the following day, and January Jane was born.