Monday, August 07, 2006

how to bring the house down: a meditation on kicking ass
El Cid has live karaoke on Wednesdays. "Live" as in, there's a live band. I saw this for the first time a few years ago during one soul-melting summer in New York. The bar was called Arlene Grocery, and it was Punk Rock Karaoke. The crowd was mad. Shoulder to shoulder, shouting, beer splashing, and sweat. The crowd at El Cid was smaller and tamer, but good sports nonetheless.

Would I sing? Indeed, that was the question last Wednesday night. The question on everyone's minds. Even the people who didn't know me. One look and they knew I had something up my sleeve. The roster of songs was bold but small, and sadly, problematic. If I'm going to be incredible, I need bad songs to sing. Usually this means '80s, often metal, always earnest. I was tempted by Bob Segar's "Night Moves", but then I realized I didn't know any lyrics besides the chorus, which basically goes, "Night Moves".

The other option is to take a good song in an inappropriate direction. One very wee Asian man did a Broadway version of "Gigantic" by The Pixies. Pretty hilarious, though he may've not been in on the joke. Jury was out.

There's been a request for the band to learn "Danger Zone". Fingers are crossed.

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