Here’s a photo I like to call “Don’t Quit Your Day Job.” The shot was taken by Jerry Milton circa 2005 (?) at Headhunter’s in Austin, which has long been one of my regular haunts.
On this night, a live band was playing karaoke requests behind shameless and willing wannabes such as myself. After a couple beers and merciless prodding by my “friends,” I took the stage and turned blue in the face while taking a stab at Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” Or was it Skid Row’s “18 and Life”? Maybe it was both (poor crowd).
Regardless, me and my sideburns (yikes!) picked a 1980s shrieker that no amateur should dare. My thinking was that if I picked a song that was lyrically familiar, I could at least put on a show if I wasn’t held hostage by the teleprompter. The jury ran away screaming.
Actually, I remember getting a round of applause, pats on the back and an offer to start a band (huh?). Ya gotta love a lubricated audience.
Thank You! Goodnight!
I guess we’ve all taken the karaoke plunge at some point. Your blog reminded me of my lead singing bellyflop several years back. I was at an ex-wife’s very large family reunion and I consumed enough beer to think I could pull off a song. Warning the guests with the cautionary pre-song comment “I’ve never done this before,” I was able to avoid completely butchering VH’s version of “You Really Got Me.” Not sure what got into me, but I ended the song on time and on key even adding some degree of stage show by twirling the mike in the air like a cowboy twirls a lasso. Surprisingly, I exit the Idiot Stage to whoops and cheers from the people brave enough to listen. Thinking I had found a new career, I mistakenly push my luck by picking a fave song that I thought I was very familiar with but had no idea what it took to actually sing it…..Def Leppard’s “Photograph.” It starts out fairly easy, but needless to say, I nearly ruptured a neck vein trying to belt out the chorus and all but gave up by the end of the song. Realizing my hopes, my dreams, and my audience had all quickly disappeared by the last eye-bulging attempt at the chorus, I stumble off the stage to find a dark corner to replace the mike that was in front of my mouth with (another) beer. “Thank you..good night.”
I remember you telling me these stories. Good stuff. I also remember another night at your house when you threw a backyard party with karaoke and I took over on a couple AC/DC tunes (Brian Johnson). I think the cops came. Oh, and Brian is another singer no amatuer should tackle although I’ve probably attempted since and will likely do it again against my better better judgement
I remember one time you and I did that shenanigans at Beerland on a Monday night…when he had time to be full time idiots!! V
proof read vomit…the he is suppose to be a we…idiot!!
Man, I sure miss the days/nights when we had the time and stamina to be full-tie idiots. Does that mean we’ve been demoted to merely part-time idiots today?
My wife and her brother partake in the Karaoke tradition every Thursday. On occasion, I go with them. I have to admit I take pleasure in scaring the regular patrons of The Cowboy with my renditions of “Mother,” “Bodies,” and “Dragula.”