I often have delusions of grandeur. Typically, these daydreams of power revolve around me, through quite often nebulous means, gaining ultimate and unchallenged authority over everyone in the world. I then use my unchecked power to reshape the world in my image. This is just one type of personal delusion. When I’m not entertaining flights of fancy that rival the dreams of comic-book supervillains, I concoct fantasies about increasingly baroque karaoke scenarios. It’s those that this newsletter will cover.
For a long time, I was rather afraid of doing karaoke. A few times in college I went with some friends to one of the rare karaoke places Missoula. During exactly none of those excursions did I participate. Sure, if someone had a karaoke machine during a small group hang at someone’s place I’d go ahead and join, but never in public in front of strangers. It wasn’t being in front of people that scared me, I’d done enough acting by then to have long gotten over stage fright. I’d even been in a musical. My fear was that I would be awful.
As anyone in my family will eagerly, gladly, willingly almost too willingly too be honest, tell you, I cannot sing. It’s rather unfortunate, honestly. There are many people on both sides of my family who are great singers. I was not gifted with those talents at all. I can whistle pretty well, but my musical prowess stops there. It’s not that I can’t hit the right tone, it’s that I’ve never learned how to change notes. Basically, I’m stuck in a baritone monotone whenever I try to sing. Not exactly the best for killing it at karaoke.
So, because of my fear of embarrassing myself in front of a room full of strangers, people who I would never see again, I put off doing karaoke in public for a while. When I got over myself, and finally did it, I realized I was an idiot who had wasted the first twenty-four years of his life.
I remember the first time I did karaoke in public. It was at the Chicago drinking institution The Globe. A soccer bar, it used to host live-band karaoke on Friday nights. At that point in time one of my friends lived across the street from The Globe, so we were regulars there. We happened to be there on one random Friday when it was pretty slow and had the chance to go up a bunch. Prior to this I had gotten out of performing by attending packed karaoke nights where getting a spot in line often involved bribing the DJ. I did not have that opportunity this night. All my other friends went up, and because I didn’t want to seem like some kind of scared loser, I signed up to do a duet with my friend. The first time we went up we did Old Crow Medicine Show’s “Wagon Wheel.” Yes, I know. Whatever. In any case, it went great. I had a blast. About ten-to-twelve minutes later I went up with my friend again and we did Sublime’s “What I Got.” Again, yes, I know. These two performances broke my mental block. I was a full karaoke convert after that.
Unfortunately for my psyche, this is about the time that I started having dreams of karaoke stardom. These daydreams are fairly nonsensical. They usually begin with me in some local dive, Reed’s Local or the like. I have a few friends there, but it’s largely strangers. I get on stage, and then proceed to absolutely belt the shit out of whatever song I’ve chosen, usually a classic rock standard, or an early to mid-2000s power-punk smash. The whole bar starts singing along with me, I do some cool moves – whatever that means – and it usually ends with me being hoisted up in the air by the mosh pit I’ve created through the power of my voice alone.
Quick note: To all the psychologists and psychiatrists reading this, yes I’m sure this says a lot about me. That’s fine, but not what I’m worried about here. Email me if you have questions.
I’ve done karaoke multiple times since that first time at The Globe. My performances have never lived up to my daydreams. Naturally. First of all, I’m not a good singer, and secondly, I do not have the charisma of a Rolling Stone or a Rihanna. However, I have figured out a few karaoke rules that at least allow me, someone whose best quality at singing is that I know when to quit, to not make a fool of myself. They’ll probably help you too.
Rule Number One: Pick A Song People Know
Karaoke in a bar is not about you. It’s about everyone else there. It’s not for working out your problems, or showing off your voice, or how deep your music knowledge goes. Karaoke is about making sure the rest of the bar is having a good time. That’s a lot of responsibility. Fun responsibility, but responsibility, nonetheless. As tempting as it may be to sing along to a They Might Be Giants deep cut, or a Chumbawamba song that’s not “Tubthumping,” a bar at 9pm on a Saturday is not that time for that. Save your powerful rendition of the Dead Kennedys “Holiday in Cambodia” for a private karaoke room with your friends. Pick a song people know and like. Regional specificities aside, you’re generally fine with any hit song released between 2000-2010. Other rules, like pick something three minutes or shorter, no “joke” songs, no ballads, and nothing with a long guitar solo also apply, but making sure it’s a recognizable, popular song is the most important.
Rule Number Two: Enthusiasm Is Key
You can’t be scared of the karaoke. You’re not going to hit every note, and you’re going to mess up the lyrics. It happens to the best of us. But what you’ll quickly realize is that you’re at a bar, and subsequently, people have been drinking. No one will notice if you mess up a few words of “What’s My Age Again?” What they will notice is if you’re not trying. In karaoke energy and oomph is more important that “pitch” and “key.” If you’ve picked a song that everyone knows, and people are there for karaoke, you’ll be fine. People will start singing along, and at that point it doesn’t matter how you sound. People, especially tipsy people, latch on to enthusiasm. Use it to your advantage.
Rule Number Three: Help Out Your Fellow Karaokeers
At every karaoke night someone does it for the first time. It’s your job to help them out. This means singing along with them, laughing at whatever awful nervous stage banter they do, and clapping when they’re done. Even if they’ve haven’t followed rule number one and picked an unpopular song, try to help them out. Just remember your first time. They probably need a nice face in the crowd. Be that face for them.
That’s it. Those are the only three things you need to have a successful time at karaoke. Other than don’t be too drunk when you do it. That gets annoying. And no more than three people on stage at once. Gets too messy otherwise. Oh, and if you think you should do a rap song, you definitely shouldn’t.
Wow, this might be my fave DDWTH ever. Laughed throughout. I had an impressive fail once at a friend's 5Oth BD party. It was "Like A Rolling Stone," and we followed the rules you set out here pretty well, except the inebriation part, which led to a degree of caterwauling that even Dylan himself never matched. Ouch.