Hootie? Go-Gos? Pat Benatar? Nope. To complete number 24 on my list, “Perform in public. Karaoke. Sober,” I chose a little ditty by the Knight of the British Order, Sir Mix-A-Lot. “Baby Got Back” was among the finalists of songs I was to sing at the Elephant & Castle pub in Boston, hours after the wedding of our good friends Matt and Michelle. I let Matt be the final arbiter and – since his heart was soaring from having just committed his life to an amazing woman – no words spoke more to his emotions than, “I’m long, and I’m strong, and I’m down to get the friction on.”
Now the trickier part was the sober. I just spent 5 hours at the most fun wedding with 10-12 people we love and an open bar the whole time. Here’s the math: 1 champagne + (an embarrassing amount of crab cakes + 2 glasses of white wine) + dinner /straight 3 hours of dancing + 2 cupcakes x forgetting to drink the gin & tonic I got = sober. By the time we showed up at a pub already in the midst of karaoke, I knew it was a sign.
With the song chosen and my little slip of paper filled out, I gave it to the MC and let the nerves start to stew. Despite being an exceptional solo car singer, I have a terrible voice when others are within earshot. I believe it’s called “tone deaf.” Without a lick of talent, I am, however, VERY good at judging others' ability – just like Paula Abdul! I watched a stream of eager drunkards walk up to the mike and butcher the melodic stylings of everyone from Journey to Shania to Sinatra. The one exception was my friend Amanda, who encouraged me all the way – which is easy when you could serve as one of those former American Idol finalists/current karaoke plants! She gets up there and belts out “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” like she’s on MTV in 1980 or appearing at a casino in 2010 (side note: Pat B still sounds fantastic!). Either way, the bar is high. I’m glad I chose a novelty rap song instead of something that required real chops. (I wonder if they had “The Humpty Dance?” Damn it! Next time)
I wish I had a more detailed account of actually being up there and singing – but it’s kind of a blur, even without drinks. I was smart enough to bring up 3 ladies (ok, “bitches” seems more appropriate here*) to serve as my back up dancers. And every time I tried to share the mike with the aforementioned songbird Amanda, she smacked it away, assuring I stuck to my goal of singing alone in front of a group. They did sing the poignant refrain, “little in the middle but she got much back.” Other than that - all me. And, I’m not too humble to say, I was completely average. I was exactly what you’d expect to see at karaoke, but not horrible enough to remember it. Then again, I don’t think too many of my friends will remember much from late in that night. Their math added up very differently.
I’m glad I crossed this off my list. It was exciting to wait for my name to be called, to actually be nervous about my performance. I will make this admission – I have done karaoke thrice before. And while the common thread was 90’s rap (“Shoop” anyone?), my drunk math read more like vodka x 4 = questionable judgment. This time, I deliberately set out to do something that I have secretly wanted to for years. And while my singing fantasies lean more toward Etta James singing “Sunday Kind of Love” in a 1960’s jazz club, I’ll settle for rapping about big butts in a chain pub.
Inspiration: Liz Cornish, a lovely little lass I work with, added “Perform in Public” to my list. Liz is a songwriter and performer in her own right. When I first saw her perform in a fantastic Omaha dive bar with just her guitar and her own amazing angsty chick songs, I was so jealous. I told her of my secret dream and when it came time to craft my list, she believed I could do it. I’m not sure the above story is what she had in mind, but I have much lower personal artistic standards.
*If this joke offends you, you should probably stop reading my blog. It only gets worse from there.
