Photo above by the author. Feature photo by invisible hour
With just the right amount of Jack Daniels, anything is possible…
Way back before Karaoke hit the Western world, where it somehow turned into Carry-O-Key, there weren’t 5 or 6 monitors mounted on the walls of the bars.
There were no videos accompanying the music and no words streaming across the bottom of the screen.
Photo by saotin
Bars were for drinking and singing. TV’s were for watching the news, cartoons, soap operas and cooking classes.
On a 17 year stint of bachelorhood, between wives number two and three I found myself doing a lot of bar-hopping.
At some point during the night, wherever I was, I’d be asked to sing karaoke by whichever charming hostess I was buying drinks for at the time.
“Nah, I don’t sing” was my standard answer and if they kept bugging me, I’d leave, find another bar and fall in love with a different hostess; one who could drink Jack on the Rocks, with me and not be a pain in the ass.
Karaoke, back in those days, consisted of a cassette player, microphone and a book about the size of a bible – you know that thick book hotels leave on coffee tables for you to set your drinks on.
I’d heard enough Japanese businessmen screw-up My Way. I figured I couldn’t do any worse.
Oh, yeah, the really big karaoke bars had a scoreboard, a big, black board with bright LED numbers.
An applause meter would give each singer a score based on how much noise the crowd made when the song was over.
Just about every karaoke-joint had the same three songs in English, My Way, Sixteen Tons and You Are My Sunshine. Even if I knew how to sing, none of them would have been top-ten list.
Hell, I got kicked out of Boy’s Choir for skipping practice; what was I supposed to know about singing?
Well, one night I hit this bar with dozens of pretty hostesses and just the right amount of Jack Daniels in me to give it a try.
Photo by digo moraes
I’d heard enough Japanese businessmen screw-up My Way. I figured I couldn’t do any worse.
Probably no one in the place knew enough English to understand me, anyway, so, what the hell, when a gal asked me if I could sing, I’d give it my best shot.
Sure enough, before I could finish my first drink, a hostess asked me to sing.
“OK, let me try My Way,” I told her.
I stumbled and fumbled through the song, squinting at the book and trying to make noises along with the music. Frank Sinatra probably rolled over in his grave (or hospital bed, not sure where he was at the time) a few times.
Even half-plastered, I was self conscious; sweat was dripping off my forehead. The song seemed like it was around two hours long.
I belted down the last “my way” nice and loud, set the mic down on the counter, slammed the rest of my drink and looked for the door, in case I had to make a quick exit.
The crowd went wild, the applause meter hit “98”and the owner of the bar brought over a bottle of whiskey half as tall as the girl sitting next to me; my prize for the highest score that night.
I shared the bottle with everyone and soon we were all singing Sixteen Tons and You Are My Sunshine.
Now, I’m a karaokeholic.
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26 Comments... join the discussion!
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Thing is, if you’re a native English speaker, your pronunciation of song lyrics will automatically be better than anyone else in the bar…so don’t worry about it!
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Been there done that. Like the Jack! makes thesinging more easy.
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karaokeholic!! Love it! …and welcome to the club. I had a similar experience in Seoul last night, but I’d choose Jack over Soju any day of the week. Good work (on the 98, also!).
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I mastered Sakuranbo by Otsuka Ai when I lived in Hokkaido….that was always my go to karaoke song when it got late enough in the night.
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I prefer karaoke in the private box with friends! Although, I could probably be persuaded in a foreign country with copious amounts of booze.
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Thanks to all for reading and commenting. These days I only visit Uncle Jack 2 or 3 times a year. It only takes a few beers to get me in a karaoke state of mind.
My office is in a karaoke bar. When I compose a story or go online and look up from the monitor, I see what’s in the black and white photo at the top of the page. Well, I see the sake bottles, microphones and karaoke machine, anyway. The gal, she’s only here on weekends. Great thing about owning your own karaoke bar; real quiet when it’s closed!↵ -
I am absolutely committed to singing karaoke in your bar someday, Mike.
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Tim, you’re welcome, anytime. Just have to drop the teenagers off somewhere and pass through here on your way home!
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Sounds like a great idea…and when I get tired of leading rugged programs in SE Asia, I’ll start doing inn-to-inn tours of Japan.
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I hate Karaoke, but it does make it a little easier when you go to a place that has karaoke boxes rather than just a stage… that way it’s only your friend that you’ll embarrass yourself in front of!
Nice article!
Paul @
TravMonkey.com↵ -
Ah, so this is how the dreaded karaokeholism can begin. I will steer clear of all karoke clubs to avoid falling into its grip.
Funny story, Mike! Thanks for sharing.
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Travellohr,
Thanks. Bet you’re a great singer and just don’t know it, yet !↵ -
Very entertaining story. I’ve heard through the grape vine that there are phone numbers that you can call in Japan where you do karaoke over a phone receiver and receive personalized feedback on how well you did/didn’t do. It’s for the more “sabishii” or lonely folk who feel like crying and singing at 3 a.m. in the privacy of their own home.
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I hadn’t heard about the telephone karaoke, yet but, it doesn’t surprise me. They have folks downloading TV Soaps and movies on their cell-phones,
Someone ought to do an article on the evolutiion of karaoke, from the days of using a flashlight to read the song book, on to the cassette machines, laser disks and today’s selections piped through telephone lines. Not me; I got jungle stuff to do.
Thanks for reading and commenting.↵ -
That is hilarious! The last time I went to a karaoke bar was my first birthday in Okinawa, Japan. A couple American friends with a bunch of Japanese in the English class we were helping with at the time decided to take a night off and hit up the ever popular Big Echo. After some sake had built up my own courage, I joined the others belting out the lyrics to any English song that came up. Of course, after five or six hours of singing with the room reserved for another six, I learned another difference between American karaoke bars up on a stage and the private rooms in Japan…
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Great post. Karaoke is a great way to make local friends.
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Midnight ! That’s around the time things really get going around here and sometimes the singin’ don’t end ’til around noon the next day.
Thanks for the comment. I’ll be llokin’ at your Bio in a minute.↵ -
Lookin’, that is; more coffee !
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Great piece. Something beat poet about it.
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Why thank you, Anne-Sophie. I have no idea what a beat poet is but I’ll take it as a compliment. I’ve been beat at alot worse things than Karaoke and poetry !
Cheers,
Mike↵ -
LOL. By beat poet, I meant the writing style of Kerouac, Ginsberg, …
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Wow, thanks, again! Didn’t realize I had any style. I better go check those guys out and make sure they aren’t violating my copyrights, huh?
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Now that I think about it: perhaps more than style, I meant the atmosphere you conveyed with your writing here. The beat guys were a rebellious group of American writers in the 1950s. I Think they’re are all dead by now. On the Road (Kerouac) is a classic.
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Yup, I wikipediad them; looks like they might all be members of the dead poets club, now. I collected classics for years and have a wall to wall library. I always told people I’d read them when I retired; just never retired. Never was much of a reader. Maybe I’ll dust off the shelves and see what I’ve got next time it rains !
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