Everyone’s Invited Up at the Community Music Hangout

Founder Dan Dectis setting up for the 107th Hangout on June 15, 2025

The familiar melody of "Mr. Tambourine Man" attracts all types. Lycra-clad bikers and giggling toddlers, strolling elders and wobbly skateboarders, no one seems immune to the pull of this outdoor piano where the Promenade and Blue Heron Lake Drive intersect. A semi-circle of yellow benches surrounds the musicians, a hodgepodge of regulars and newcomers, as they roll through impromptu performances.

A tie-dyed sign draped across the front of the piano defines the Community Music Hangout as "50% open mic, 50% sing-along, 110% all welcome." Dan Dectis, the event's founder, created these weekly Hangouts to bring strangers together through music. In the middle of the park's car-free street, he encourages people to perform whatever song they desire, offering an alternative to our culture’s growing fear of vulnerability or appearing “cringe”.

How the Hangout Found Its People

It all started with the free pianos. In November 2022, Dectis was on a long walk when he discovered one of them sitting in the middle of the newly pedestrianized JFK. Illuminate, the organization responsible for many of the city's public art hits, including the spectacular gay lasers and the twinkling lights on the Bay Bridge, brought in public pianos as part of their Golden Mile Project.

Dectis began by recruiting musician friends to join him at the piano on whichever weekend day promised the most sunshine. He branded the event the "Community Music Hangout" in hopes that passersby would eventually join in, too. At first, a flimsy paper sign was the sole indicator of his ambitions for the weekly gatherings. The beginnings were meager in turnout, and the first piano disappeared after only a few weeks due to an unrelentingly rainy fall, but a new piano eventually materialized. Dectis continued organizing Hangouts.

Over the past two and a half years, Dectis and a growing group of regulars have built out a full setup with battery-powered amps, speakers, mics, guitars, saxophones, and occasionally even a drum kit wheeled in on a skateboard. Both an A-frame sign and a large-format vinyl poster spell out the event in groovy letters. Earlier this spring, they hosted their 100th Hangout with upwards of 40 performers and Dectis' parents in attendance from out of town.

Those that stumble upon the Hangout luxuriate in their weekend freedom from indoor responsibilities, from desk jobs, from rushing to and fro. They stop and sway and smile and occasionally sing along. This is all par for the course when encountering live music. The unexpected bit comes when the song they've been enjoying draws to a close and they get a nudge from a person next to them or Dectis himself points and asks, "What would you like to sing?"

The event's regulars refer to this tactic as "Aggressive Inclusivity". No one is forced to participate, of course, and plenty of people shake their heads with an equally and oppositely aggressive refusal. But the point is that no one has the opportunity to assume they're not invited up. Thus, those who harbor a secret longing to participate get that much-needed push, and the music continues to flow.

Aggressive Inclusivity, In Practice

On Father's Day, I strode up to the usual Hangout spot a few minutes before the appointed noon start time. The piano was tucked away in its protective yellow box, and the surrounding benches sat empty. I spotted Dectis from afar, tugging along his cart piled high with supplies. As any seasoned San Franciscan should, he dressed in layers: a red zip-up with a Hawaiian shirt peaking through, jeans, sunglasses, and a green Giants baseball cap. Other musicians appeared with their own gear, and while they tuned their instruments, he swiftly transformed the space with equipment and signage.

If any of the initial performers had a propensity for stage fright, everything moved too quickly to dwell on it. Minutes after his arrival, Dectis was on the keys, warming himself up along with the piano. He started off with a seasoned rendition of "I Shall Be Released". Over the course of the first few songs, more people trickled in, and regulars off-stage caught up with each other as one performance bled into the next.

There are regulars, and then there are "super regulars." The supers are so dedicated to this weekend ritual that they let everyone know when they aren't planning on showing up, as an unexpected disappearance would be cause for concern. One such regular is Brian. He dons an on-brand tie-dye bucket hat and an anti-tobacco sweatshirt to transfix the audience with his spectacular voice and unwavering commitment to each performance.

Even in my observer role, I was not absolved from Aggressive Inclusivity, and Dectis soon asked what I planned to sing. There was no "if" in his question. Trading my camera for the mic, I quickly registered the cavernous gap between drunken midnight karaoke and this harrowingly sober midday performance. Regardless, I gave Steely Dan's “Dirty Work” my all, swaying somewhat awkwardly to the right of the piano and trying not to rush or drag. With the help of Dectis and the regulars, I made it to the other side of the song unscathed.

A little over an hour into the Hang, Dectis had to leave briefly to play another gig, but the event continued without a hitch. The regulars knew the drill. Matt Mangels took over the keys while Jaz and Brian took turns MCing, giving the "this is the Community Music Hangout..." spiel between songs. They carried on the welcoming spirit that sits at the heart of the Hangout and pulls people in.

Considering the lack of a set list, the flow of the event is extraordinary. Participants approach, name their intended song, and get after it, requiring the accompanists to jump from Weezer to Joan Baez to Blink-182 to original compositions. There's a certain looseness that makes it clear there's no "wrong way." Everyone is here to have a good time, yielding to the simple human joy of music-making.

Santiago came in off the street, mixing old and new with his rendition of the son jarocho tune "El Siquisiri" on electric guitar. Brian leaned into the cheesiness of his "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" duet with Binh, a newish regular. Emma served vocals and sun protection in a wide-brimmed straw hat with her soulful performance of "All My Loving". When it was time for the chorus of Weezer's "Say It Ain't So", everyone in the crowd instinctively joined in.

At one point, Brian approached me with a request. He wanted to make sure I captured their tribute performance of "Good Vibrations" by the Beach Boys, as Brian Wilson had died earlier that week. As promised, I had the camera rolling while he, Jaz, and Jen attempted those tricky harmonies. It was a little off-beat and occasionally off-key, but the clumsiness only added to the charm. Judgements on quality feel absurd in the face of such uninhibited joie de vivre.

That abandonment of perfectionism seems key to the Hangout's success. Inspired by this, I decided to mark my departure with an on-the-nose performance of "Leaving on a Jet Plane". This time, I made eye contact with the crowd, strangers that I now felt inexplicably close to, and didn't spend so much time thinking about what everyone else might be thinking. I just sang.

For more information on the Community Music Hangout and when the next one is happening, you can check out the website here.