We all knew how to sing in Kindergarten and we still do

I did Karaoke last night and enjoyed it. There, I said it and I’m not ashamed. Not too ashamed. OK, maybe a little ashamed.

Longtime readers of this column (Hi Dad!) already know my feelings about Karaoke; that it is, in fact, the work of the Devil and one of the signs of the Apocalypse. That’s how I felt about it before last night.

Now—after experiencing what I can only describe as a pop music-induced epiphany—I’m having second thoughts. Maybe Karaoke is not so bad after all.

Oh sure, there are the singers—I estimate about 50 percent of ‘em—who sound pretty much like a coyote tangled up in barbed wire; and those that take the whole thing way too seriously (the vocalists dressed up in sequined cowboy shirts and Ray-Ban sunglasses); and those that don’t approach the stage until they’ve gone several martinis over the line.

Then there are also the singers that are truly good; those that would be at home onstage with Ella Fitzgerald or Aretha Franklin. Granted, the good singers make up an amazingly small percentage of the overall “talent,” but they are out there.

However, it’s the bad singers I want to talk about today, the really bad singers. No sense of pitch, meter or dynamics. A complete disregard for timing. An inability to count to four (as in 4/4 time). These are the singers that make Karaoke great in my opinion.

Now, there are no doubt some of you who assume I’m going to veer off into sarcasm here, but I’m not. I mean it when I say the bad vocalists are the very heart of Karaoke.

Maybe everyone but me already knows this and I’m coming late to the party. Wouldn’t be the first time. I’m not especially quick to grasp sociological trends. Like I said, last night was an epiphany.

It happened at Cascade Roadhouse, where Karaoke-meister Donna plies her trade three or four nights a week. I was in the joint to grab a burger and Bud Lite before heading home for the night; the last thing I wanted was to spend the evening listening to a bunch of CPAs and Wal-Mart greeters massacring off-key versions of “Feelings” and “Achy Breaky Heart.”

But as each nervous American Idol wannabe paraded up to the stage for his or her moment in the spotlight it occurred to me—this isn’t supposed to be great music, or even great entertainment. What it is is a chance for regular Janes and Joes to let out a little bit of that music that lives inside us all, that fragile, ephemeral joy we all knew back in Kindergarten as we belted out “The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round” with wild abandon.

We were kids and it never occurred to any of us that we might not be budding opera stars. The music was in our hearts and it found expression through our singing, godawful though it may have been.

Karaoke, I figured out last night, is nothing more than an extension of Kindergarten music class. It’s a chance for even the most musically-challenged songster to reconnect with that uninhibited five-year-old he or she once was.

If the end result sounds like train wheels grinding over gravel, well, that’s why so many places that feature Karaoke also offer beer. So grab that microphone, throw caution to the wind, and let what’s in your heart back out into the world where we can all enjoy it!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to rehearse. I’m going back tonight with a killer version of “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.” Cher, eat your heart out.

More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com. Email Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.

Karaoke: Harmless fun or work of the Devil?

When it comes to music, I’m polymorphous and indiscriminate—I’ll listen to anything. My record collection contains tracks as diverse as Miles Davis, Rammstein, The Ink Spots, Perry Como, NIN, Rob Zombie, Berlioz, Etta James and every single tune set to vinyl by Bob Brock & the B-Tones (best polka band in West Michigan, baby—nobody plays “The Chicken Dance” better’n the B-Tones!).

I love great vocalists (Pavarotti, Sinatra, Freddie Mercury); I love lousy vocalists (Dylan, Petty, The Lovely Mrs. Taylor in the shower).

What I don’t love, when it comes to music—and I use that word ever so loosely—is karaoke. Karaoke is, put simply, the work of the Devil.

If there is a hell, I’m sure the soundtrack features a half-drunk traveling window shade salesman singing the karaoke version of “There’s Got to Be a Morning After” into a microphone somebody purchased at Wal-Mart for $3.95.

The only good thing about karaoke is this: It’s easy to avoid. If I see a “Karaoke! Every Wednesday” sign in the window of a bar or restaurant, I know to go somewhere else on Wednesdays. A simple, elegant solution.

Until now.

The Japanese, who invented karaoke in the first place as a way of getting back at Americans for making fun of their high math scores, have come up with a new, even more diabolical, product—portable karaoke.

The “Hi-kara” karaoke machine is a 3-inch cube that works just like its full-sized siblings. Background music and words are downloaded off the Internet, and then a small screen displays the lyrics while the music plays.

According to Shigekazu Mihashi, marketing director for Takara Tomy, which manufactures the Hi-kara, the target audience for the device is middle-school age girls. And we all know the great taste in music possessed by most girls in middle school. (OMG! It’s Brittney!)

My own daughter, at that age, once forced me to take her to a concert featuring Tiffany and New Kids on the Block. I still wake up screaming in the night, reliving that concert in much the same way a ‘Nam vet might relive Kham Duc.

At any rate, it won’t be long until 7th-grade girls everywhere get their hands on the Hi-kara. Busses, airports, movie queues, McDonald’s, grocery stores—no place will be safe from the legions of Slumber Party Girls wannabes belting out squeaky, off-key versions of “Hit Me Baby One More Time.”

I may not have to wait until the afterlife to hear the Hades soundtrack after all.

More “Reality Check” online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.milive.com. E-mail Mike at mtaylor325@gmail.com.