Ruminations on Karaoke

This is the uptick rule of Karaoke-blogging? Also; we could just not post photos of parties ever.

I think there’s nothing wrong with Karaoke in theory, but I’ve never EVER been to Karaoke with a group of people where I didn’t get physically run over by at least two or three overly ambitious Karaoke-ers who were frighteningly determined to get either the microphone or the song book all to themselves. Having always been a very bad singer, I generally avoid both the song book and the microphone, as much in consideration of the general public’s aural health as anything else. So it may just be that I don’t understand the impulse to furiously and a little-too-desperately snatch the instrument of choice—book or mic—from one’s drunken party-goer friends and acquaintances while otherwise trying very, very hard to affect the impression that one is an easy-going, party-loving, laid-back person, because I don’t fully appreciate the sheer unadulterated joy that comes from Karaoke when one believes one can actually sing.

But it always happens. And after having been borderline assaulted on multiple occasions by stray elbows thrashing their way into range of the mic or stepped on by someone who weighs 50 pounds more than me en route to figure out the call number for that one Bon Jovi number that just matches the perpetrator’s exact vocal range, I’m inclined to avoid it for fear of actual physical harm. There are far too many Type A people in New York who have secretly been contemplating American Idol tryouts who will cut you if you get in the way of their opportunity to perform their extravaganza edition of “Total Eclipse of the Heart” in front of their drunk friends.

And what I’m going to say next will make it sound like I’m unduly influenced by @boyfriend, but nonetheless… I am too old for that shit.

You Karaoke people who go to Sing Sing and drunkenly stand in the corner and belt out lyrics to yourself sans-mic, because you don’t give a shit and you don’t really know the lyrics anyway, but who cares because you’re drunk and making noise when you’re drunk is always fun: I am not talking to you. You are fine. You would drunkenly belt out lyrics to “Sweet Caroline” at any given cocktail party after 3AM and eight Jamesons on the rocks, so the presence of amplification and a soundtrack is superfluous.

Also, you are probably John Carney.

You other people, though. You nutso musical-theater-in-high-school-people who forget that you are at a casual social event with normal human beings and not on stage in front of Simon Cowell: it’s just Karaoke, Tracy Flick. Have another beer. Step away from the mic (for once). And relax, for fuck’s sake.

So I’m afraid until my experience of Karaoke changes, my only Karaoke experiences will be had without a soundtrack, without an audience, and in my shower. I may still be drunk, mind you, but I won’t have to worry about getting stampeded by any of you crazy people determined to do your solo rendition of Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” with no interference.

And don’t worry. I’m not posting any photos of it, either.

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