Saturday night, my friends and I celebrated our friend J.D.'s exit from the bachelor life by going to a San Clemete Irish pub on kareoke night. I was incredibly fun. We began our musical performaces with an out of tune version of "Minnie the Moocher," sung by Dominic and your humble narrator. The night would continue with "When a man loves a woman" sung by Dom and Jackson, "Time is on my side" sung by Jon Berk and J.D.'s best man Dave. Later, I sang my token cover song "I believe," changing the line "He'll see me a person, not just a black man," to "canadian" at the end. The crowd cheered. The climax occurred after a rather shady rendition of "Baby got back" sung by a large of group of marginally attractive women who reffered to themselves as the Pirates Princesses. Steve, Jon, and myself took the stage to sing "Bohemian Rhapsody"...and then every guy in this side of the pub jumped on stage and joined together in the loudest sing along of one of the most difficult rock songs to sing. It was incredible. I'm convinced the kareoke man hated because none of us took the songs we were singing seriously, or at least as intensly as our two predecessors that monopolized the mic until we showed up and showed them up with our amazing stage presence.
What was amazing was how loud we all were. We were that group that sang to every song. Danced to every beat. And razed our glasses after every singer. We empowered those who would normally feel self-concious on stage. The amazing part was that we were all rather sober, though everyone probably thought we were drunk. This may be a negative, but I'll take it as a positive since we didn't need artificial material to give us energy and comfort to be loud and happy. We're naturally good-hearted people that love others and don't have any inhibitions about what others think. Though I must say that John Englehardt is my favourite drunk. He met a random dude and kept hunging him and eventually got a shot of whiskey from the guy. He also met an fellow seminary student and they each confided in each other about their drunken states.
I couldn't help but wonder about people that do this on a normal basis. This was my first official kareoke experience-or atleast one with music in the background. I wondered if this was place people went because they couldn't get real jobs here. Was this the only place they could truly express themselves without worrying about because taken that seriously. It's like a person that masks their aggression in a joke. Besides us, these people took their oke seriously. These were people that did theatre, choir, and band in high school. This was their tribute to the past. I don't want to sound pessimistic, but there were some people there that just looked defeated. I wonder what would happen if they would have taken that singing lesson more seriously or, at least, gone out for a part at the local theatre. But until that realization, kareoke seems to serve an important part in this culture, giving people their three minutes of fame with the safety of their day jobs. But alas, Blessed Union of Souls would simply remind us that "love will find a way." Perhaps love will lead people into something real beyond kareoke.