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   All of the verses were a mess like this, but I figured he’d redeem himself once the chorus hit, since that little bit of the song is perfect for someone who’s tanked and fading: all you do is go “Mmm mmm mmm mmm”. Hell, you could probably find someone passed out on the floor, sprawled on their own puke, unaware karaoke was even going on, give them a kick and stick a microphone in their face and they’d still nail it. “Mmmm. Mmmm. Mmmm. Mmm.” It’s pretty easy. But this guy just couldn’t get the timing right. “Mmm ...........mmm mmm.....mmmm” he’d say, gently swaying back and forth beneath the disco ball.

Grade: A. This one was awesome.

Some Piano Ballad
About Aching and Loss

Again! Two in a row! Why on earth would you choose a song like this? A dismal piano ballad with lyrics about pain never stopping and aching and stuff like that? Yeah, let’s stand in front of scowling men doing shots of Jagermeister and belt out that one!

   The person who decides to do this, a petite girl clutching a notebook, is a competent singer, a few leagues above Mr. Crash Test Dummy, but that offers little solace. She starts whispering and it is literally uncomfortable to watch, casting a very strange mood over the place. This is not drinking music, there is no doubt about that. The absence of guitar and the girl’s sleek, whispered voice make background conversations obvious, so everyone quiets down out of respect and stares at their beers, nervous coughs escaping as lyrics about teardrops falling and hearts shattering slowly creep down the television screen.

   I am on my second beer of the bar and fifth of the evening, but not quite at the “it’s all good” worldview, so it is still an embarrassing moment, where you feel sorry for the person and just wish it would end. And then, as I see the phrase “32 Bar Musical Interlude” appear on the screen and think “No fucking way”, the karaoke machine suddenly breaks, mercifully stopping mid-note, perhaps unplugged by a sympathetic friend of the singer. The bar collectively exhales, but before we know it the box is back up and running and the girl actually starts the song over. The guy manning the machine for the night tries to dissuade her, but she insists and soon the depressing piano keys clang throughout the bar yet again. Unbelievable.

Grade: D-. A notch above an F only due to the bravery it requires to get in front of a bar full of people and sing something like this. Admirable, but it only counts for so much.

Metallica - Whiskey in the Jar

My suspicion is that either the selection here at the Vegas is painfully limited (a glance at the song binder across the room reveals that it does look a bit thinner than most) or that these people are inept at choosing songs. Don’t they know how this works? Wouldn’t they want a tune that’ll cause the whole room to cheer out at the first note? One that will cause everyone in attendance to sing along merrily, the collective roar hiding any vocal deficiencies the karaoke singer might have? But no: they keep selecting un-hummable, un-danceable, and for the most part un-recognizable tunes. I’m not sure how this works—how does one simultaneously hold the thoughts “I want to do karaoke!” and “I think the best choice is an eight minute long Radiohead song with no chorus and a four minute instrumental section!”? Puzzling.

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