I feel bad about saying this, particularly given the context in which I’ve met some people who have access to this page, but there is precious little that occurs on a karaoke stage that genuinely impresses me.
I know, it makes me sound like of of those “clearly you have issues, because why else would you be here?” kind of musician-douches (you know, the ones you usually find behind the counter at any Pacific Northwest/Liberal Arts College Town record store or behind the bar at any Southeast Portland hipster hangout), but it’s true. I’ve hashed it out a few times before, but it warrants mention again: I patronize karaoke spots not because I’m there to be astounded by vocal performances, or even because I enjoy the attention that invariably comes when I sing. I go there because I like to see people enjoy the visceral act of making music, even if it’s not their music they’re making.
Even if it weren’t a philosophical bone-of-contention for me, I’d still consider it worth mention because I’ve made money in and around karaoke for the better part of seven years and, with some notable exceptions, I’ve seen and heard damn near everything there is to be seen and heard. I so often encounter people who ask me questions about their performance, or the performances of others, looking for some qualitative assessment, forgetting that part of what makes me good at what I do (because I am, for your information, a damn fine KJ) is that I completely block out anything that may transpire onstage. I’ll notice something that amuses me at times, for good or ill, and I’ll occasionally make a comment, but it’s generally best that I don’t know what’s going on.
[Time’s up, but I’m going to continue:]
In my long and sordid history behind the board, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that there have been exactly two people who have legitimately and remarkably impressed me on a karaoke microphone. The first was this wonderful woman named Adonai, a lady who was a preschool teacher who came in and completely nailed Outkast’s “Ms. Jackson”–all the parts–seemingly without trying. I don’t even remember what she sang later on in the evening, but I do remember it was completely different. The other was the woman who would later become my ex-girlfriend Jen, who killed Erykah Badu’s “Tyrone” so scintillatingly I almost forgot how smokin’ hot I found her.
That’s the trick to really being a dynamic karaoke performer–it’s not whether or not you can do that amazing rendition of that one song over and over and over and over and over and over again. It’s what else you can do. Some people can get over their lack of discernible talent through turning the stage into a pro wrestling ring, conquering the crowd through showpersonship–that only sometimes works, as it often results in people being really fucking annoying, especially if they do the routine more than once. The really interesting, entertaining folks, though–they do something completely different. Soulful renditions of songs that require them certainly indicate some degree of vocal skill, but there’s a difference between vocal skill and sounding good.
I see and hear a ton of people that can do a pretty damn Janis Joplin/Glenn Danzig/Pat Benatar/Steve Perry/Ann Wilson/Usher. But none of them can do it in three octaves, which is pretty much the only thing that makes me say “damn.”
But, really, the fact that I think about this at all makes me the biggest loser in the room.
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