Sticking to my day job
So last night, a gazillion years after the fad first surfaced, I gave karaoke a shot.
Yesterday afternoon, Tech Boo and I decided to throw a karaoke party at his place during early summer while his mom is in town. Grown-ups only, soul food, drinks…a good old-fashioned house party. We wrote the evite in our heads, debated the merits of Popeye’s fried chicken over that of a local hole in the wall joint (the hole in the wall joint won out–why do the places that barely pass health inspection have the best food?), and mulled over the guest list. Excitement!
Fast forward a few hours, and we grab a late dinner with our favorite Hyperboy, who casually suggests we catch karaoke at a bar in my neighborhood. I ask Tech Boo if he’ll do it with me–he’s done it before, I haven’t–and he agrees. Practice for our upcoming summer shindig. Excitement!
So the bar, like too many other bars in this city–which has managed to simultaneously hold the distinction of being 1) the country’s most livable city, 2) the sootiest city, worse even than LA, and 3) the city with the highest per capita of pregnant smokers–let that marinate for a minute–is smoky. But we press on and claim a vacant booth. The catalogue of possible songs to sing is huge. But of course we are only looking for duets, so that really cuts thing down to size. We also want something upbeat, but it looks like we’re going to be stuck with a ballad.
I start to get nervous. There’s a reason I’ve never done karaoke before. For most of my life, I’ve been self-conscious to the point of paralysis, never wanting to draw attention to myself, convinced that everyone in any given room is watching me and judging me harshly. Only recently have I overcome that…but karaoke? That’s asking a bit much. Still, tonight, I’m determined.
I look around the room for comfort. Most people aren’t even paying attention to the people on the mic. They are drinking, eating, laughing–and of course, smoking. Some are studying the karaoke catalogue as if the big karaoke final is tomorrow morning.
A few people, like the couple who look like Peaches and Herb probably look these days, can really sang, as we say in the vernacular. They perform and are rewarded with loud applause and big whoops. They are the exception, however. A few tone deaf individuals do their thing, and I assure myself that no matter what, I won’t be that bad.
The roster of performers is long. Tech Boo and I finally settle on “Always” by Atlantic Starr, and add our tiny post-it to the waiting list. In the meantime, I study the hilarious list of rules posted at the front of the karaoke catalogue. They include:
If you’re too drunk to choose a song and write your name on the sign up sheet, you are too drunk to sing.
No swinging the mic.
No screaming into the mic.
Don’t throw or intentionally drop the mic.
Don’t intentionally hit, tap, or pound the mic. Don’t clap with it, don’t hit any part of your body, or anyone else’s body, with it.
Don’t put the mic in your mouth or in ANY body opening…PERIOD (no exceptions).
[At this point, I’m considering disinfecting the mic before touching it.]
No BEATBOXing.
No stripping…really, we don’t want to see you naked…
Confident that I could abide by these rules that, really, should go without saying, I go back to being nervous. I start singing parts of “Always” that I remember. In the loud bar, what I can hear of myself doesn’t sound bad at all. Tech Boo practices a bit too, and I tell him, “You always sound great.” And it’s true.
We wait for a small eternity, and I start to get cold feet. Plus, it’s getting late and Tech Boo has a plane to catch in the morning. We decide that if we aren’t called in the next two turns, we’re leaving.
So of course we immediately hear, “Deesha and Tech Boo, come to the stage!”
Well, I decide to strut to the stage, figuring if I act the part, my confidence will catch up. I go right to the mike like I’ve done this a million times. The song starts, and I find that I can’t look at Tech Boo, or the audience. I’ll just stand sideways and look at the nearby screen, instead of the one in the back of the room which would force me to actually make eye contact with the audience.
The first line is Tech Boo’s: “Girl, you are to me…all that a woman should be…”
Omigod. Someone must have shoved this mike into a body opening when we weren’t looking because Tech Boo sounds…waaaaay off-key.
Which means I’m going to sound…
A hot mess. Wow. I forgot something while we were busy choosing a song and rolling our eyes at the folks who couldn’t sing: I can’t sing. Not a lick. Can’t carry a tune if you put it in a suitcase for me.
I blame all those years of singing along with the music. I should have sung more in the shower, where I couldn’t hide from the truth. I did recall the one time when I was in the 9th grade and my girlfriends and I decided to record ourselves singing “Saving All My Love for You”. You couldn’t tell us we weren’t Whitneys-in-training…until the playback. It was just god-awful, but surely I alone could not wreak such havoc on a song.
Oh, but I can. And I did. I figured, the only thing worse than continuing to sing was to quit. So, we kept going. I never once looked at the audience; I never once sang the right note or in the right key either.
I kept hoping Tech Boo would redeem us, but he didn’t. And when we sang together, I consistently sang louder–and wrong-er.
Who knew that song was so freakin’ long???
And of course, while we’re up there, Hyperboy comes and snaps a picture.
We finished to polite applause, and I did the only thing I could do: Threw my head back and strutted back to my seat, looking at nary a soul as I passed.
Back in the booth, I pounced on Tech Boo. “What happened? You always sound so good when you sing to me.”
“Dear. You hear with ears of love. Not to be trusted.”
Now he tells me.
So, now I have until mid-June to get up the nerve to embarrass myself again. But this time, it will be in front of familiar faces, so I figure I’ve done the harder thing.
In the meantime, I’ll keep watching this lady to feel better about myself:
May 6th, 2008 at 4:24 am
LOL!! The Japanese are obviously either too polite or have very different standards when it comes to be able to ’sang.’ By the reaction of the audience and her co-contestants, you’d think she was Amy Winehouse or soemthing.
Good move in putting the youtube clip at the end of the blog… almost made me forget the blog was about the fact that you and Techboymone (my official new name for him) made an almost Japanese spectacle of yourselves.
But hey, kudos for getting up there and giving it a go. I’ve never done karaoke before either… And um, you really think doing it in front of people you know will be easier…? Just asking.
May 8th, 2008 at 8:24 am
**And um, you really think doing it in front of people you know will be easier…? Just asking.**
Oh, I forgot to mention that I would also be tipsy. A minor detail.
May 26th, 2008 at 12:15 pm
Ha! My sister still won’t let me bring up the time I got her to do karaoke with me during an office party! Oh, but it was just so much ‘fun’ you know? Just the two of us … singing … American Pie! What were we thinking?