When the Night Comes...

you might find me singing karaoke.

As I was walking back from the local bar (did I mention that I can walk to the local bar? And I haven't yet been so nasty drunk where this would be truly beneficial) tonight, I was trying to figure out what was it about this activity that appeals to me, and to others, so much.

First of all, the bars I have frequented enough to notice certainly draw more people when music is playing, even if it is being warbled off key (what's a "key" again?). Second, I think it helps draws regulars to a particular place. You know you can go, have a little fun, not be abused too much when you think you can crank out your best Michael Jackson (no, I haven't tried, but I've been tempted). Third, I think it feeds some tiny, or maybe not-so-tiny little performance craving. People, to varying degrees, like to be noticed. Some people go up there and play the fool, but enjoy the howls and catcalls. Some people channel their inner rock star and let it loose. Some people (particularly people either new to the experience or the bar) sway a little, and give you hints about what they might do given half a chance. Some people just want to make sure they get the song more-or-less "right" (words, melody, pace, whatever part you want to focus on) to make themselves happy. Some people have been imbibing a teensy bit more than they should and/or are dragged up by so-called friends to sing some piece-of-crap song you don't even want to hear on the radio.

Where do I fit into the above list? All of the above, at one time or another. My somewhat outgoing nature for all of you unfortunate enough to know me well and have experienced it at times aside, I am an introvert. I do not make an effort to randomly talk to people I don't know, and without some structured event, my time spent in bars without a sizeable support group would be minimal. I love music (file this under "no duh, Chris") and love to sing. Did this a few times in college, and for the most part wasn't very good. Fast forward ten or so years, and it's me sitting uncomfortably with my nose in the song book for 45 minutes, singing one song, and leaving the bar in a rush. Eventually, I met a couple of people in the bar who knew, well, every other damn person in the bar, and the walls came tumbling down. I stayed long enough to sing two songs, and sing with other people, and sing a song just for the hell of it without caring (too much) about the end result. At one point some months later, I look around and the bar is kicking us out at closing time, and I know I'll be dead at work the next day, but it's a very satisfied kind of tired.

When I sing songs, it's not unlike how I listen to music. I'll cycle back to time-tested stuff, but I'll try damn near anything under the right circumstances. In the 5 years I've been out there I've probably sung over 200 different songs, many of them only once. Some of them very badly. A lot of them okay, but nothing to write home about. A decent number where I could finish, sit down, and go, "I'd be willing to sing that again; that wasn't awful, but I could do better". And then there's that moment... I do something right, and the thing comes out sounding like I want it to, and there is more than polite applause somewhere in the bar, or a pat on the back, or a sincere compliment. That's the drug, uncut, right there. Those are the handful of songs I keep coming back to, and the ones that I try and make others sound like. I don't just restrict myself to them, but they're like a good friend that you know you can count on. The songs I can sing to my satisfaction, I tend to like more and listen to more. Then with the ones I screw up, it's almost like I punish them (as though it's their fault I couldn't get my voice to cooperate).

So, as you know, I moved back to Richmond a few months ago. It wasn't surprising that I sought out a location where I could try and at least put a crack in the new walls I had to deal with. And I've tried several places, on several different nights of the week, always leading off with something right at the top of my comfort zone. I currently do my thing (such as it is) at The Beach House around the corner from work and home. When I first went, a new friend from work went with me, but he soon tired of the routine, and I had to go solo. It took a few hard weeks where I could recognize the regulars and smile and nod and make small talk, but the time between songs was fighting a small urge pushing me in the back to get up and walk out, and a voice saying "you don't belong here, this is not your place, why don't you just go home and listen to music on your computer, or call one of your friends on the phone?" Never mind that some of these friends were likely out somewhere, especially the ones I made through hours of spent time at Green Dolphin Grille or Martin's back in the Noke. Eventually, however, a couple of people invited me to sit with them, and the waitress flirts with me, and the DJ calls me one of the regulars, and it's starting to feel like a good place to be.

So what does my twisted little mind believe I can actually sing with something resembling effectiveness? *ahem* in list form:

7) If I Had $1,000,000 - Barenaked Ladies: It requires a partner, and I had a good one at Martin's. Had fun substituting "Tim's a bitch" for the last line "I'd be rich" and all the regular poker players who stayed around to sing/hang out would laugh at old Two-Hand. Not likely to do this one again unless I find a new partner, and don't even know if I should, because it won't be easy to replicate the feeling in the new town without the old friends. But, moving on...

6) Jump Around - House Of Pain: Yeah, you wouldn't think it, would ya? But one night I got the itch, and when I gave it to the DJ, he said "really?" Nothing like a confidence booster. But there was much dancing, and jumping around, and rowdy raucousness, and raucous rowdyness. And the DJ said "yeah, I was wrong". And we know how I like to prove people wrong...

5) Right Place, Wrong Time - Dr. John: Did this one night at a Mardi-Gras themed party at the Grille, and it sounded pretty good. Did it around Mardi Gras the next year. Then I figured something out and it's one of the ones I can pull out wherever I go, and don't even need the jester's hat, though green and purple and gold look good on me. Or maybe the hat does for reasons we need not elaborate on.

4) London Calling - The Clash: Honestly, this could easily have been Should I Stay or Should I Go. Rock The Casbah and Train In Vain are also good, but this one was the breakthrough Clash song for me, the first one where I got that feeling, and that pat on the back, literally.

3) Tangled Up In Blue - Bob Dylan: It being my all-time favorite song helps here, but Dylan is hard to really screw up because his singing style isn't exactly traditional. All you non-Dylan fans feel free to shut up right about here. But it's not the easiest thing to feel comfortable singing, either. I knew I had something right one night when Celtic John said he had someone open the door so he could hear the song while he was outside. I hope he was sincere, because that was the best compliment just about ever....

2) Paradise By The Dashboard Lights - Meatloaf: Not only do I have the nostalgia of remembering APO parties when I sing this, but I also have a truly unique thing with this song. I had sung it a couple of times with various people but this girl I had seen once or twice asks a friend of mine at the Grille if anyone can sing this song. He points me out immediately, and we sing it, and it was pretty good (mostly because she can really sing), and a bit of fun. She hangs out with us at the bar for a few weeks and then about disappears. Year goes by, and the Grille is gone, and the karaoke DJ tells me she's coming down to Martin's that night. We talk a bit, and one of us mentions a duet. We do the song, and she's letting loose. I knew she could sing, but holy crap I didn't remember her as dynamic as this. I'm just trying not to screw up. But it goes over like gangbusters. So we bond, if you will, over this song, and over the next few months do the song a few more times, and in a couple of other places. We get more playful, and the "routine" if you will really starts to pick up speed. I get to the point when I'm not hindering things, and then it seems like I'm helping things along. Very well aware that I'm still nowhere near her league as a singer, and never will be. But for those 8 minutes, I don't have to be, because I'm actually a performer as much as I'm singing, and it has helped me as much to feel like I should be singing whenever I feel like it, because I know what I can do under optimal circumstances. Ah, no hubris here, really... but I know if nothing else when I visit Roanoke I can call this young lady and at least if she's free meet her at one of a couple of places, and totally rip through this song.

1) Fell In Love With A Girl - White Stripes: One minutes and fifty seconds of perfect sonic mayhem. It doesn't rate with other things I felt were more sincere, but a perfect stranger asked me if I was in a real band once after I finished this song. Friends have told other people who have never been out with us that this is my song. One even said that he thinks it sounds a little weird hearing the White Stripes version, but I think that's just because he's been subjected to me many times, and doesn't hear it that often on the radio. Several people have at various times asked me to do this song. It's a great fucking song, too. Just saying... I said it once before, but it bears repeating, now.