Culture Paper
Karaoke Culture or For The Love Of Mic!
(I’ve been waiting to use that jokes for years.) The first time I ever sang karaoke was at Duke’s - a motorcycle/western bar with $2 tacos and free pool Duke’s was right across the street from my house which sort of made me not care that it seemed like somewhere that John Wayne and Dog The Bounty Hunter might meet up for a drink.
My friend Jason and I had journeyed across the street for cheap food and pool only to find that the pool table had been removed. In its place was a dj booth and in front of it stood a bemulletted overweight man in his late 40’s earnestly belting out “Gimme Three Steps” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I was certain that people would sit in an uncomfortable silence when his song finally ended. The man could not sing his way out of a wet paper bag.
The song ended and I looked around the room, anticipating the chirps of crickets and the strolling-by of tumbleweeds. To my amazement, the room burst into applause and whistles. “Great job, man!” a group of husky ZZ Top look-a-likes shouted. “Skynyrd!!!” an obese gentleman shrieked, awkwardly swaying his lit Zippo lighter in the air.
What the hell was going on? Had they just heard the same performance? It was awful! Mind-bleedingly awful! I sat, frozen in horror, as each performance proceeded to get worse and worse. Notes flat or sharp or missing all together pierced the air with gusto. Each performance was met with the same supportive, encouraging response. I was confused.
Moments later, a scruffy dude in a motorcycle jacket came up to the mic and skillfully crooned “Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’” by Journey. He hit every note perfectly and the timbre of his voice fit the song beautifully. Uh oh. How would the audience respond to an actual good singer? Would I go deaf from the screaming and shouts? I began preparing wads of cocktail napkins to shove in my ears when the moment arrived. However, when the song ended the same response wafted through the room. “Great job, man!”
My friend Jason asked me to get up and sing. He said that for one thing, he knew I had a better voice than anyone in the room. But mostly he said that if I was singing that it meant one of the tone deaf performers would NOT be singing.
I looked around the room. There were about 10 people strewn about the bar. I wasn’t too intimidated. I knew I didn’t have much for competition. Additionally, I was the only female in the room, so I figured that should make it harder to try to compare me to other singers.
I scanned through the song book, finding that I really didn’t know any of them. Most of the tunes were meant to appeal to the type of people that were in the bar. A whole bunch of classic rock and country and a little bit of Elvis and Neil Diamond sprinkled in between. Finally I found a song that I knew. “I Cain’t Say No” from Oklahoma! I was pretty certain nobody in the bar would have any idea what the hell I was singing, but they would probably associate with country music and call it good.
When my turn was announced I began to get nervous. I had sung in musicals and choirs before, but this was a little more intimate and real. I held the microphone in both hands in an attempt to give the impression that they were not shaking. I got through the song without fainting or tripping or messing up too terribly. The crowd again began their applause routine. “Great job, man!” It was awesome! Even though I knew their reaction was the same for every performance, it was great to have it be for me! It was a rush! I felt like part of a family.
And that’s when I became a part of the Karaoke Culture. It is a wonderful family to be in. The only requirement for membership is to become a member. You will be appreciated. You will be welcome. You will not be judged. You will be a star.
(I’ve been waiting to use that jokes for years.) The first time I ever sang karaoke was at Duke’s - a motorcycle/western bar with $2 tacos and free pool Duke’s was right across the street from my house which sort of made me not care that it seemed like somewhere that John Wayne and Dog The Bounty Hunter might meet up for a drink.
My friend Jason and I had journeyed across the street for cheap food and pool only to find that the pool table had been removed. In its place was a dj booth and in front of it stood a bemulletted overweight man in his late 40’s earnestly belting out “Gimme Three Steps” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I was certain that people would sit in an uncomfortable silence when his song finally ended. The man could not sing his way out of a wet paper bag.
The song ended and I looked around the room, anticipating the chirps of crickets and the strolling-by of tumbleweeds. To my amazement, the room burst into applause and whistles. “Great job, man!” a group of husky ZZ Top look-a-likes shouted. “Skynyrd!!!” an obese gentleman shrieked, awkwardly swaying his lit Zippo lighter in the air.
What the hell was going on? Had they just heard the same performance? It was awful! Mind-bleedingly awful! I sat, frozen in horror, as each performance proceeded to get worse and worse. Notes flat or sharp or missing all together pierced the air with gusto. Each performance was met with the same supportive, encouraging response. I was confused.
Moments later, a scruffy dude in a motorcycle jacket came up to the mic and skillfully crooned “Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’” by Journey. He hit every note perfectly and the timbre of his voice fit the song beautifully. Uh oh. How would the audience respond to an actual good singer? Would I go deaf from the screaming and shouts? I began preparing wads of cocktail napkins to shove in my ears when the moment arrived. However, when the song ended the same response wafted through the room. “Great job, man!”
My friend Jason asked me to get up and sing. He said that for one thing, he knew I had a better voice than anyone in the room. But mostly he said that if I was singing that it meant one of the tone deaf performers would NOT be singing.
I looked around the room. There were about 10 people strewn about the bar. I wasn’t too intimidated. I knew I didn’t have much for competition. Additionally, I was the only female in the room, so I figured that should make it harder to try to compare me to other singers.
I scanned through the song book, finding that I really didn’t know any of them. Most of the tunes were meant to appeal to the type of people that were in the bar. A whole bunch of classic rock and country and a little bit of Elvis and Neil Diamond sprinkled in between. Finally I found a song that I knew. “I Cain’t Say No” from Oklahoma! I was pretty certain nobody in the bar would have any idea what the hell I was singing, but they would probably associate with country music and call it good.
When my turn was announced I began to get nervous. I had sung in musicals and choirs before, but this was a little more intimate and real. I held the microphone in both hands in an attempt to give the impression that they were not shaking. I got through the song without fainting or tripping or messing up too terribly. The crowd again began their applause routine. “Great job, man!” It was awesome! Even though I knew their reaction was the same for every performance, it was great to have it be for me! It was a rush! I felt like part of a family.
And that’s when I became a part of the Karaoke Culture. It is a wonderful family to be in. The only requirement for membership is to become a member. You will be appreciated. You will be welcome. You will not be judged. You will be a star.