So I’m not really the karaoke-ing kind. I just don’t love it, perhaps owing to the stick up my ass. (note: not owing to the stick up my ass). Anyway though, late Saturday night I was bamboozled into accompanying old college friends to Sing Sing where, if you can push your way through the crush of frat guys clogging up the front artery without getting date raped, you’re allowed entrance into a small room with a large TV and some vinyl couches upon which you’d be remiss not to either spill something or film yourself engaging in all manner of kink, which we didn’t do, because all we did was sing and drink beer. Stupid us!
But anyway, while turning in a surprisingly heartfelt rendition of Dolly Parton’s stirring “Jolene” I was forced to recognize what a truly amazing set of pipes I have and when a friend said to me “good work” and “nice!” I truly believed her and felt that it was almost unfair to the others the level to which I was just killing at Karaoke and my god, is everyone sitting there taking in how much talent I have and thinking that they never knew I possessed such a pitch-perfect angels-singing type tone coupled with obvious hard-won technique? I mean, it was impossible to miss.
And it was only when I heard the same friend say “good work” and “nice!” to another friend after a really painful piss-poor slaughtering of some popular song that I began to wonder just what the hell was going on and also it occurred to me that I bet everyone who holds that mic and sings along to incorrect lyrics on a screen thinks all the people around them are secretly in awe of their alarming talent, and my god and who knew and how come you never told us and look at you, all bashful. You should go on American Idol!
Is that the appeal of karaoke?