The Karaoke Next Door

Tonight I went to a holiday party hosted by a friend of mine. He didn't have room in his place to invite all his musician friends, so he booked a little cafe space in the back of a stylish historical hotel. About a dozen musicians showed up, and all were invited to sing a few songs.

But in the bigger room on the other side of the wall, it was Karaoke Night.

It was clear from the start that we were in trouble, but we forged ahead anyway, playing our original songs as well as we could under the circumstances and earnestly strumming our acoustic guitars. A handsome young songwriter with a clear tenor voice doubled as the sound man and he kept fiddling with the monitor, to no avail.

In the pauses between songs, we heard the karaoke. "Brown Sugar" by the Rolling Stones. "Hurts So Good" by John Mellencamp. And a particularly enthusiastic rendition of "American Pie".

I thought of the songwriter, Don McLean, and realized that (had things gone somewhat differently for him) he'd fit in with our little group just fine, and he'd probably try to sing alongside the karaoke, too. He'd be just as earnest as we were up there, singing "I knew a girl who sang the blues and I asked her for some happy news".

But young Don with his guitar had morphed into something else entirely: a roomful of boisterous, out-of-tune voices, practically yelling "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die".

When it was my turn, I got up and sang my songs. They were okay. One of the maddening things about making original work is that you're never really sure how it's going to be received. The same song can be a huge hit in one room and a complete flop in the next. In this room, the response was enthusiastic, but not wildly so. Not so wild as the room next door.

The truth was, in the pauses between songs, I could tell the singers in the next room were having a whole lot more fun than we were.

Maybe I really wanted to go over there.

Meanwhile, the organizers of the party convinced the hotel management to erect a makeshift door, which succeeded in muffling the karaoke a bit. (The songs were a bit harder to make out. Wasn't that The Eagles?)

It would have seemed, well, heretical to go over to the next room and start singing "Desperado".

But why not, I wondered? After all, we all know the songs, they're what inspired us to start writing our own in the first place. We can sing them really, really well...almost as well as our own.

Leaving early, I went through an alternate exit to avoid the karaoke room. I didn't want to look sheepish, walking past the stage toting my guitar. But now, I kind of wish I'd tried it. Don't you get to pick the song?

I could sing something like..."I can't get nooo....sat-is-FAC-shun..."

And it'd be fun.