KARAOKE



LUV - When the caveman who invented human song did so - and, let’s face it, probably got into the loincloth of some cavewench as a result - nobody turned around and went, “Ug! That’s shit! Never ugging do that again!”


No. It caught on, big time. And humans have been singing ever since. The word “karaoke” evokes pubs with sticky floors and over-earnest, under-tuneful renditions of The Greatest Love Of All. But in essence, it’s just singing. And here’s the thing: singing feels great and is good for your soul. Man.


I’ve witnessed many, many karaoke sessions, and I love seeing the transformation in people. Previously shy (or supercilious) folk become obsessed. Supposedly cool people reveal their real, true, passionate love for REO Speedwagon. It’s these folk, the ones who didn’t think they were going to enjoy themselves, who you have trouble wrenching the microphone from.


If you’re doing karaoke, nobody involved ever, ever, ever wants it to end. Nobody ever goes “well, only 5 minutes left, shall we go?” You always have to be prompted to leave by the poor sods running the show. Sure, booze is a factor in this, but it’s the great feeling of singing your big stupid head off that hooks you.


I’m sure people who refuse to give it a go get the same feeling from other activities. Indeed, they probably look at people like me and think: “Look, just go for a run, or a swim, or something, anything that means I don’t have to listen to you murder Bohemian Rhapsody again.”


Which is kind of fair enough, except the euphoria you get from things like that is rarely shared with a bunch of other folk. Folk who, like you, will wake up in the morning giggling like a toddler at the fact that they even attempted Ice Ice Baby.
- Stuart Waterman


HAT - I’ve got lots of friends that love karaoke. And I really value my friends. But when they suggest karaoke, I start thinking about that bit in Total Recall where Arnold Schwarzenegger is stuck on Mars and the air pressure almost makes his brain explode. At that moment, I truly, deeply want that to happen to them.

I’m not tone deaf - I’ve seen tone deaf in movies, and it falls into the inexplicably endearing camp (see Cameron Diaz-face in My Best Friend’s Wedding). I’m worse - I’m the girl that tries her best, but really, really can’t sing (it’s the trying bit that’s so heartbreaking - you see it a lot on My Super Sweet Sixteenth). If I went on X Factor, I’d only get a 5 second cutaway on X Factor Extra, and that would only be because I’d fall over when walking into the studio, which, combined with my very poor attempt at singing a Billy Joel song, would make it sufficient to add to the ‘people that can’t walk into a studio’ montage.

I once went to Tokyo, where I was told EVERYONE does karaoke. It appeared there was nothing to it but to down my sake and try to get into the spirit. The song I chose to pop my karaoke cherry? You Are 16 Going On 17 from The Sound of Music.


It took 13 seconds before both me and the person I was singing with (unknown colleague, rather than forgiving friend) realised simultaneously: 1) we didn’t remember the tune. 2)  The song was not a small amount really fucking creepy. 3) Half a pint of sake was in no way enough to make this fun. 4) We still had 3 minutes of singing left, and those around us had started checking their phones in that way that people do when they wish they were anywhere but sitting listening to people mumble their way through a song originally sung by a Nazi guard and a spoilt Austrian girl called Liesl.


I want karaoke to get brain pressure on Mars and die.
- Susi Weaser