karaoke dreamzzz

Tonight I went to Shokitini for two newish friends' birthday party. I had been geared up to go most of the day but became a bit reluctant when a dull ache settled in around my left shoulder and neck area. Ultimately, I went anyway and am quite pleased that I did.

The three karaoke rooms at Shokitini tend to get crowded, messy, and confusing. Of the few times I've been there for get-togethers, this was the most fun I've had--probably because I felt the healthiest. At the karaoke singalong party that was, in essence, for Jim and Nicole and Trish, I left early with an awful migraine and was very thankful to get my favorite taxicab man on the phone for an immediate ride home. But onto tonight's shenanigans.

If you're unfamiliar with the idea of private karaoke rooms, which are immensely popular in Asian countries, as far as I understand, think back to the scene in Lost in Translation when Scarlet Johanssen and Bill Murray go out with a bunch of friends to sing karaoke in a tiny, cramped room where bartenders periodically bring them drinks. That can serve as your reference point. If you're still lost, suffice it to say that one can rent out an entire room that has a high-quality karaoke machine, a few song selection books, sushi menus, drink menus, and a couple of servers that check on you periodically. Now add 20-30 of your friends and a few random folks you've never seen before.

Karaoke didn't appeal to me much until recently. The last time I was at Shokitini, I sang a song with Trish--just the two of us! This was unlike me. Just a few weeks before that, I refused to get on stage at The Swiss Chalet, a Geneva-on-the-Lake, OH bar and "family establishment" (read: bar) to do karaoke with my three tipsy cousins and Jim, who did an awe-inspiring version of "Love Shack." The mere thought made me blush despite years of stage experience as an amateur actress (read: community theatre and school shows only). So why did I start belting out the tunes tonight? Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that "Bohemian Rhapsody" started a couple minutes after I walked in. I don't need any screen to tell me the words to that song, nor do I need to wonder what to do with my hands as I stand or sit awkwardly as I belt into the microphone. Laurie Mineo and I created a devastatingly beautiful synchronized dance to this song in 1992. Maybe if I'd been a little more warmed up I would've busted it out.

In the history of songs I've loved to love, there have been a few that I've played repeatedly, wanting to hear every nuance not just so I could appreciate it but so I could learn how to mimic it for my own car and shower singing. The songs don't have to be particularly well-written to be on this list (though they often are). They are sometimes cheesy and sometimes not. I'll not admit to many of them, but some included are Brandi Carlile's "What Can I Say?" and "Wig in a Box" from the Hedwig and the Angry Inch play soundtrack. (I much prefer the play version to the movie one, for some reason.) "If songs like that were on karaoke," I can remember saying, "maybe I would do it." Well, what song do you think Melinda and Jessica requested to sing toward the end of the evening? That's right: "Wig in a Box." I joined them, as did one other friend of theirs and another guy they knew who drifted in from another karaoke room ("I just sang this in there!" he cried). No one else in the huge room knew what we were singing, but we emoted our little hearts out. It was great. Had I been the only one singing, I'd have been self-conscious. But with a few partners in crime, it was pretty exciting.

Karaoke fears no more? We'll see. For tonight, I surely put them aside.

Suddenly I'm this punk rock star
of stage and screen
and I ain't never
I'm never turning back
-"Wig in a Box" from Hedwig & the Angry Inch