On Sundays, the Takoma Park Open Mic at Capital City Cheesecake attracts the usual suspects, with a bit of local flavor -- while there are plenty of acoustic guitars, there’s also a woman singing a Spanish lullaby a capella, a man playing a four-string, homemade cigar box guitar and another bantering with the crowd by reading his grocery list.

And in the middle of it all is a long-haired kinetic force of a man, constantly darting to and from the soundboard, hugging audience members and delivering misplaced purses from the stage to their owners. His name is Rob Hinkal, he is 36 years old and he seems unable to stay in one place for more than a couple of minutes.

Hinkal is the man behind the music. He plays a crucial role during these Sunday music-fests, which began at Everyday Gourmet along Laurel Avenue in June and migrated to Capital City Cheesecake on Carroll Avenue Aug. 28. While the café provides food and shelter, Hinkal puts together the night’s line-up of aspiring artists.

Hinkal said that, as a venue, Capital City Cheesecake has been a pleasant surprise.

“For as much as I thought Everyday Gourmet was the perfect shape and size,” he began to say, but then cut himself off mid-sentence, his eyes wandering outside the café. “My brother has found a dog. Interesting. I know it’s not his dog.”

He ran outside to investigate and never finished his thought. After all, as he said, a host has to keep track of what’s going on. Sometimes you have to “smooth out the bar brawls,” or deal with a belligerent guest. Sometimes you have to figure out where a lost dog came from.

Hinkal, who has been running open mics in the area for about three years, said the 30 audience members at Sunday’s event was an uncharacteristic lull in attendance. Usually about 50 people pack into the café level of Capital City Cheesecake, while others mull around the middle and bottom floors. On his busiest Sunday, Hinkal said, he counted 79 people.

“It’s definitely gotten more packed,” said Meaghan Murphy, the manager of the café. “We have more regulars that come out every Sunday, no matter what. And they discovered us more. They order more food. It’s a great group.”

At the open mic, people get comfortable -- over the course of three hours, the Capital City Cheesecake wait staff constantly carts food from the counter to the customers. Beer and wine orders outnumber those for cheesecake, Murphy said.

However, when one half of Sunday’s featured duo, Mosno Al-Moseeki (“the fuzzy one,” Hinkal said, motioning toward his big hair), polled the audience for recommended cheesecake flavors, Hinkal was quick to vouch for Lemon Berry.

Al-Moseeki, on guitar, hand drum and vocals, performed with Sahffi Lynne, on guitar and vocals, under the name Goatfish. While they played, Hinkal passed around a box asking for donations for the duo, which otherwise played gratis. The box filled quickly with singles and five-dollar bills.

“There’s definitely a lot of regulars,” Murphy said. “They know each other’s names. They’re all really supportive. No matter what they sound like, everyone is supportive and encouraging.”

She stopped. Hinkal had bulleted down the stairs and was jokingly interlocking his fingers with hers.

“How are you?” he asked Murphy. “Are you surviving?”

She said she was, and asked the same of him.

“I’m having a frenetic night,” he said, and not long afterward had disappeared into the thinning mass of audience members, meeting people, fidgeting with the audio levels and generally doing his best to be a very good host.