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Care
to Karaoke?
-There’s a bar across the street from
where we live that features the faint heart of karaoke twice a week. And
during the school year, it’s quite the place to be.
It’s a typical type bar which has a
few of the typical characteristics of the usual young bar.
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Loud people
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drunk people
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loud drunk people
-
the couple that has to go outside
to yell at each other cause it’s they don’t won’t to make a scene in a
place with a group of people with loud music that could drown out 80% of
the dialogue, and opt to instead, to go outside and scream at each other
in the dead of night at 1 am where they can be heard for three hundred
yards away.
-
Fight s that “go outside” with the
perennial age old conflict of between local “townies” and the college
kids.
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The 2:03, a phenomenon which has in
the last 4 years become a staple of the bar scene. In some regards, it
can be the 3:03(Chicago)
or 1:03 (in
Nebraska) or whenever closing time
is. Or 5:32 pm if you
happen to be in Delaware.
Don’t remember exactly what time it was at the bar but I think there
were mothers getting ready to pick they’re kids up from daycare during
last call.
The 2:03, as I dub it, is the mass
lemming-like migration that males ensue as soon as they are corralled out
of the bar. This has become a recent phenomenon that directly correlates
to the evolution of the cell phone. If guy does not have girl at the hip
by the time he goes outside, then the cell phone booty call is instantly
engaged. Ten, fifteen, sometimes twenty guys all on the cell phone at the
same time with calls lasting 20 seconds. If one call doesn’t go through
the phone is then aborted and a new number is cast. Now yes, a few of
them might be actually calling to see if there’s any after hour things are
going on. But the mass majority, is the 2:03 it could so be a discovery
channel special.
Getting back to some karaoke rants.
I have many problems that go with the practice of thethe song singing
ritual. A set of rules that should be implemented so that all can
properly enjoy the world that is karaoke.
The simplest rules would be:
1. Under no circumstances should a
song be played more than once from 10 to closing time. Yes there could be
an argument that the crowd could have a 70% turnover from 10:15 to 12:45
but do you really want to risk it? And think of the poor bartenders how
many times a night do they really want to hear “Sweet Caroline in one
night. It’s annoying and a little rude like ordering a complicated spicy
bloody Mary when it’s a packed dollar draft night.
And speaking of Neil Diamond.
1a. On the same note. Crappy pun
intended. Only allow one song by an artist every hour. This is for all
you Neil Diamond, Johnny Cash and Bon Jovi fans. No need for the next
person should follow up "cherry" with “forever in blue jeans”. This
shouldn’t be a hard request seeing how large the massive catalog of songs
that are now available on karaoke
You can put up a history marker like
those at the roulette tables, except this one would have a purpose, with
no need to write them down on a card with those little half pencils which
the ends always scrape that little webbing of skin between your thumb and
index finger. It would just have listed every song that was played that
night and those within the last hour in bold.
2. If you are on stage and just sang
your song, Leave the stage. Even If no one signed up after you and the DJ
doesn’t call up another person. You don’t need to sing another song. Put
the microphone on the stool. It’s not a special 4 song acoustic guest
appearance set. sing your "what a feelin", take your Soco and lime shot.
Sit down and prepare to watch someone else make a fool of themselves. It’s
a bar. And where there’s a bar. They’re are drunk people, and where
there’s drunk people there’s going to be at least one person who will go
up to the stage whether they like it or not cause it’s like a skipping cd
at a party, it shouldn’t happen, and by going for the gusto, they feel, in
part, a little heroic.
3. Any song over 5 minutes be
stricken from the play list.
This is probably the one of the
easier rules to abide to. Most songs are indeed less than five minutes,
even four. This would solve many of the following problems.
-
novelty- I think the novelty
and cuteness of songs when the audience is an inebriated state lasts
about 3:30 minutes before people get tired of the song. People want to
see people make fools of themselves. The more the better.
-
Remixes- Missy Elliot, Puffy
or anything touched by Wyclef Jean. This just adds mass confusion to
the mix. Cause one minutes your jammin and getting your flow on getting
everyone to sing with you, than all of a sudden Timberlake or Bubba
sparxx interrupts the loop with a rap that no one knows for a minute and
then leads to...
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Awkward standing- Any song
that’s more than 4 minutes will almost indefinitely have extended
periods of time of musical indulgence, whether it be a guitar solo or a
keyboard jam (doors) a drum line. . Aerosmith’s “sweet emotion” has
nearly 40 seconds of music before even the chorus chimes in, that’s not
nearly as bad as some of the guitar intros of the 70's like Boston,
Golden Earring or CheapTrick. Those guitar solos can last for a minute
or two, leaving the singer there, standing uncomfortably debating to
take a sip of beer that on the stool, cry, or dance a la Ashlee
Simpson. It becomes uncomfortable for everyone. Chicago’s “After all
that we’ve been through” can make it into this category if that weird
guitar heavy metal transition is included on the karaoke version. No
one knows what the hell to do at that moment.
-
air guitar solos. Ok
scratch. I'll leave that one as a positive to the argument. It's like
a blind date episode you just feel so embarrassed for the participants
you can't but help watch it go down.
I would actually suggest 4 minutes,
as taken a quick gander at the songs in my itunes 80% of theme are under 4
minutes but then again most Alanis Morrisette songs hover around the 4:30
mark and there's enough pissed off women in the world and don't want to
contribute more to there mood by taking Alanis from them.
My own karaoke disaster happened in
Nashville of 1999 with my friend Jessica. My song was "the weight" by The
Band. It had the extended, “Steve never heard of it before”, version,
with long acoustic accompaniment. I was up there for an ungodly 7
minutes. The last 15 seconds I was in standing mode with the gut feeling
of getting bottles thrown at me a la blues brothers in 20 seconds. When I
started the song I was cheered, when I ended there were boos. I left the
stage with the music still playing. I wish I had pictures of that.
6. Dancing queen should also be
stricken from the list. If your in New York, any ABBA song. Mamma Mia
obsession has driven it to a pulp with no chance for any recovery. There
are very few things I feel as strongly about as this.
7. The radio version is normally
best. Cause many of them are cut down, to get it under the unspoken time
limit and most people can sing along with it. Unfortunately they did that
with “semi-charmed kind of life” which they took out a verse which
completely makes the songs and completely changes the meaning, sometimes
you can catch the real version though. But for the sake of Karaoke,
that’s ok.
 8.
Make the late 20’s white guy in a suit or sweater vest go up there and
make him rap Tupac, just for
comedy’s sake. Bribe him with a shot or two or three and put in the song
yourself without him knowing that he's signed up for the song. Two things
could happen, he won’t know the words. Which is always the comedic joy of
karaoke, or there’s a slight possibility that he could turn out to be kick
ass fantastic. And then the next day at work, at the water cooler, you
can say,”Dude, last night this white guy TORE UP Tupac. He so
represented!” It’s a win-win situation
-Miyagi’s on sunset. It was a
fascination of mine when i was going to LA a fair amount a few years
back. It was the sushi bar that turned into an unabashed annoying who’s
who on Tuesday night. That was karaoke night. It was always packed and
many times, star studded. But the most entertaining part of the night
was those who sang. These weren't your ordinary drunk college kids or
stressed out business people needing a release, no, but a completely
different breed of people, “The Attempted Discovered”. These groups of
people were a group that only could be found in certain concentrated areas
of LA, NYC, Chicago and Branson, Missouri. And now can be seen more
regularly across America at various American Idol auditions. This people
share the common belief that they will inadvertently be discovered by
putting themselves in a position at the right place and right time. But
these people. It was so forced. I was embarrassed for many of them.
This was the preparation. It HAD to be the placed where the idea for
American Idol came from. People with extreme varying levels of talent
with the same belief that they were going to be a star and they were going
to let the whole world know it dammit, or at least those in the audience
trying to pry the edeme pods or eating a California roll. The
preparation, phenomenal. The outfits, amazing. The performances,
amazingly good and bad. It was so competitive I saw girls on the verge of
popping each others silicone for fighting because one girl sang a song the
other was planning on as well. I’ve even seen people pull out those
little pitch harmonica thingy’s opera people and barber shop quartet
people use before their performance. It’s amazing watching many of these
people 8 years before they become stage moms.
9. I will survive can only be sung
by a women who's been scorned by her boyfriend or husband within the last
two weeks, and it's her first night out as "officially single".
I originally thought it should just
be banned outright. It's just been beaten down so much that Paula
Abdul would even admit that no one can really "make the song their
own". My feeling for this is just as strong, if not more, about my
dancing queen suggestion. But it's been engrained as such a song of woman
power that it's become its own animal. I can see many part-time college
students slash Dj's become strangled by psycho women all over the country
for refusing to pay. But like I said it can be controlled to.
99% of people that love hearing that
song at the bar are already on stage, which usually consists of one girl
singing lead followed by her drunk friends behind her singing lead
frothing at the mouth to sing backup during the chorus. It needs to be
stopped for careless use.
Here are my parameters for singing "I
will survive"
When performer goes to the sign up
sheet and scribbles down the song. She must present at least 4 of 7
official forms of identification of a women scorned.
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Divorce papers.
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The left ring finger mark left by
band or engagement ring.
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Hand-written note from guy telling
that he’s leaving her.
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Printed email addressed to the man
from "the other women"
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Audio recording or voice mail of
man leaving a message discussing a time of when he's going to be able
"to pick his stuff up".
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Her mother.
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3 psycho friends that will tell the
story of the bastard. More than likely they're already there
interrupting each other on telling the story anyway.
Yes, it's more intense than getting a
Passport, but the rewards are worth it.
"I will survive", when done right,
sung by hateful, single women, can be one of the most engaging
performances that one can ever see at karaoke. This happens about once
every 52 times that song is played. Ok. So I made that stat up, but it's
quite a rarity. But when you do get one of those times it's quite
mesmerizing watching a woman, and her anthem, together at once in hateful
independent acceptance.
 The
music starts. The woman is standing there in her little area by herself,
unless she brought the three friends for identification, if she did,
they're standing behind her, slightly to the side.
She's slightly uncomfortable. She
starts off nervous, slightly by stage fright, slightly by her new found
situation. Coupling the microphone with both hands, trembling, thinking
if she should have done this in the first place. She IS the first line.
At first I was afraid
I was petrified
I kept thinking I could never live without you
By my side
 She
settles down just a little bit. The nervousness is still there. The fear
still lingering, but a little bit has been swayed. She has people in her
corner, her friends, her compatriots, the DJ, and most importantly,
Roberta Flack’s spirit.
But then I spent so
many nights
Just thinking how you've done me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to get along
The tempo getting stronger faster as
is her will to live. Live free. Away from the shackles of torment her
man imposed on her life, her dreams, her womeness (I made that word up).
Her head starts to nod with the music, she starts believing, willing to
become one with the lyrics. Right before our eyes she IS growing,
confidence multiplying with every beat. One of the hands release from the
microphone, with one strong, dominate hand holding it up high. It doesn’t
need another hand for support.
And so you're back
From outer space
I just walked in to find you
Here without that look upon your face
I should have changed that stupid look
I would have made you leave your key
If I had known for
just one second
You'd be back to bother me
The scene has now completely changed,
she is now the dominant animal, not a sidekick of a former male lion to
keep her in check and his pride. “I should have changed that stupid look”
That’s when the sass comes out. It comes out hard. Her body says “I
don’t think so!”
Well now go,
Walk out the door
Just turn around
Now, you're not welcome anymore
Weren't you the one
Who tried to break me with desire?
Did you think I'd crumble?
Did you think I'd lay down and die?
Oh not I,
The other hand is in it’s own little
world. It’s shaking, waving, swaying to the beat. Gesturing become
apparent of it’s independence. She might actually point to the door at
the bar. Her voice, strong. Her poise, resilient. Swaying with spunk, a
tenacity, and independence. Her voice inflection actually changes in a
way that you believe that she’s asking questions to the man of torment
who is not there.
And then the chorus starts.
I will survive
Yeah
As Long as I know how
to love,
I know I'll be alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
I will survive,
I will survive
Yeah, yeah
The crowd then erupts. Some in
applause. Some in disbelief. Some in desperate fear that she's going to
jump off the stage and rip testicles off in pairs.
In 70 seconds you've seen a woman go
from a depressed desolate woman transform into Xena Warrior Princess.
Her drunk friends them chime into one roaring intoxicated liberating
chorus that would embarrass Helen Reddy. The singing is now drowned out
by high pitch screaming. Jumping up and down by the drunk friends is not
optional as they swing their heads back in forth in unison. I keep
drinking my beer.
It took all the
strength I had
Just not to fall apart
I'm trying hard to mend the pieces
Of my broken heart
And I spent oh so many nights
Just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry,
Energy has to be stored somewhat.
Everyone’s singing, but the fervor is more relaxed, she has to save some
for the ending. The singer reflects on how the bastard did her wrong.
Reflection is good. But she now needs to look for her future…in the
lyrics!
But now I hold my head
up high
And you see me
With somebody new
I'm not that stupid little person
Still in love with you
And so you thought you'd just drop by
And you expect me to be free
But now I'm saving all my lovin'
For someone whose lovin' me
This is up for grabs. I still have
yet to really investigate. In the song, Roberta has already found a man.
She doesn’t need Mr. alien-outer space-breaking-into-her-apt-guy anymore,
but with the rules that I’ve applied to the karaoke situation, I’m not
sure the siren has had enough time to find a great single man to replace
him. It doesn’t really matter at this point anymore she’s drunk with
liberation and kamikaze shots anyway.
The drunk girlfriends chime in again.
Well now go,
Walk out the door
Just turn around
Now, you're not welcome anymore
Weren't you the one
Who tried to break me with desire?
Did you think I'd crumple?
Did you think I'd lay down and die?
Oh not I,
I will survive
Yeah
As long as I know how to love,
I know I'll be alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
I will survive,
I will survive
Yeah, yeah
Oh no
As she walks off on the stage. Her
friends all cheer and do the obligatory hug, Road Rules mission
accomplished style.
That’s the only way I can tolerate
this song. But honestly if it's not done like that. I will survive.
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