The ancient art of karaoke

Karaoke. The word can provoke extreme emotions in many, from freezing fear to joyous abandon. I tend towards the latter, so when I got an invitation off Lal to go to a karaoke party yesterday, I was pretty pleased.

The two previous times I’ve done proper karaoke (SingStar, fun though it may be, is not the same) have been in front of large groups of people, so I’ve already gotten over the fear aspect and now actually relish the opportunity to get a crowd dancing. This time I was a little apprehensive when I walked into the club on Frith Street, which didn’t look like any karaoke club I’d been to before, and then even more apprehensive when I realised it was one of those where you hire out a room with a karaoke machine for a few mates. I’ve never understood why you’d want to do such a thing – surely the fun of karaoke is the big audience?

Anyway, a few beers later and my apprehension was dispelled. The real beauty, I now saw, of getting a karaoke room is not having to wait for a bunch of talentless hacks you don’t know to have their turn before you get your go – instead, it’s just you and a bunch of talentless hacks you do know happily singing along to the classics. Actually, I lie – everyone there was pretty good and had done it before, although when a girl started singing in pitch-perfect tune to a song, everyone went quiet and starting murderously muttering about being ‘too good’.

What songs went up for me? No less than the Very Best including Road Rage (Catatonia), Somewhere In My Heart (Aztec Camera) and of course, Sex Bomb (Tom Jones). It’s definitely a great way to have fun with friends and good for those who haven’t yet made the step to performing in public.

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