Why karaoke is great for introverts
And the seven signs I like it too much.
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When my partner was invited to a birthday karaoke night, he thought it was weird that he had to submit a preferred song in advance. But not so weird that he questioned it. He should have done.
He arrived at the venue slightly late, and was horrified to discover it was the worst karaoke: big room/audience full of strangers karaoke. This would be bad enough. But as he entered the room without a drop of alcohol in him, he heard his name being called above the din of the huge crowd of around 150 merrymakers. Who became distinctly less merry when he took the mic for a morose, barely known Elvis Presley song. By the end of the song, the previously rammed dancefloor was empty.
I want to be very clear that I will not be talking about this kind of karaoke. I didn’t even know this still existed. I’m referring to small booth karaoke with just you and some friends. This is the best karaoke. And, I would argue, a perfect night out for the socially awkward or introverted.
In many ways, it’s an absolute dream of a social activity as you don’t have to do any talking. There’s no small talk or big talk. The only times you have to move your mouth, there is a script in front of you. Admittedly, the script says stuff like ‘Wham! bam!
I am! A man! Job or no job, you can't tell me that I'm not.’ And you do have to sing the words, but nobody expects anybody to be good at karaoke. The best karaoke performances are always the worst.
The words on the screen also mean you don’t have to look at anyone. You could do two hours of karaoke and have no eye contact. Everybody is facing the screen. It’s like a more fun version of TV watching. And far better than going dancing with friends, as then you have to face each other and look at each other while moving your bodies weirdly to music. And the more I think about it, the more I feel I can never do it again.
There’s also the magic button. A lot of karaoke booths have one to order drinks. It’s like having a butler, although they’d probably refuse a request to iron your newspaper. And it means you don’t have to struggle to get served at a bar. I never get served at a bar. From the moment my body nears a beer tap or one of those little bar towels, I become invisible. Everywhere should have a magic button.
And here’s a lovely distraction. The karaoke machine thing. The place where you pick your songs. Whenever you’ve had enough of singing or facing forwards, you can browse for the perfect song. To be honest though, I never need to browse. I always have my set list written down. Which brings me to this:
Seven signs I like karaoke too much
The aforementioned set list. Before I go, I’ve got an idea what I’m going to sing like I’m about to go out on the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury.
This is because I keep a constantly updated list on my phone notes of songs that might be good to try and ones that worked well.
Before a karaoke night, I talk about trying out ‘new material’ like I’m Olivia Rodrigo or Bruce Springsteen. When what I mean is I’m doing a song I’ve not done before.
When I did karaoke for my last birthday, I booked it for three hours, which is an hour longer than anybody really wants, apart from me.
I’ve been known to rehearse beforehand.
When someone suggests karaoke, I can immediately provide a list of every karaoke booth in East and Central London, along with a rough guide to prices and the pros and cons of each.
I’ve done it completely sober twice. I was pregnant at the time. But this is a nice insight that I did karaoke twice in the nine months I was pregnant.
I should also say that I’m tone deaf. I cannot sing. I’ve got such bad technique, or rather no technique, that I’ve often lost my voice by the end. But that does not stop me from loving karaoke. It’s my favourite thing to do. Unless, that is, someone does a morose, barely known, floor-clearing Elvis Presley song.
What about you?
Are there any signs that you love karaoke too much?
Am I wrong that it’s a perfect social activity for introverts?
What’s your karaoke song?
And any karaoke stories. Tell me in the comments.
"Before a karaoke night, I talk about trying out ‘new material’ like I’m Olivia Rodrigo or Bruce Springsteen. When what I mean is I’m doing a song I’ve not done before." - This is BRILLIANT.
I will never forget the time in The Hague when I went with my friend Sarah to a karaoke bar she said was always empty, but with the BIGGEST list of songs she'd ever seen. Songs you couldn't even imagine were in there. She said it was a great place to try out songs you would never consider doing in public. I was intrigued...new material territory!
We arrived, it was empty (it was a communal room karaoke bar, so the type Tom found himself in, except with thankfully only a handful of people sat in dark corners.) I have no idea why I chose the song I did, I think it was a curiosity to play out a childhood dream in the relative safety of an almost empty room, but with all the equipment and my friend Sarah to entertain.
You had to wait until your name was called and your song was announced. The handful of people were each taking their turn. It was a safe and accepting space. I was quietly thrilled at how much Sarah might laugh when it came to my song!
Then the bar doors opened and in walked an entire coach load of punk/goth night out-ers, about 60 perfectly pierced, tattooed and entirely black clothing attired patrons filled the bar. Death metal tracks were being written on the request paper. And then came the words I was dreading...."next we have Zena, singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!!"
The opening bars were already playing. Mortified I mumbled my way through the first verse, I couldn't have felt more English singing Julie Andrews' clipped words, staring only at the screen and not daring to look at the disgust in the eyes of every death metaller. But I could see out of the corner of my eye that Sarah was laughing so hard - which was the only thing that stopped me from running for the hills.
Then, a 6ft guy, with more piercings that I could count, a vest slashed in a hundred places and long peroxide hair suddenly stood beside me and joined in with the "umdiddly, um diddly, um diddily aye" bits, and continued into the chorus! It utterly bolstered me and before I knew it he and I were properly dueting. The room started loving it and then everyone started singing along in the chorusses. It must have been one of the oddest sights. I still both shudder at how mortified I was, and smile with how brilliant it ended up being, I don't think I will ever forget the feeling of being so horrified and embarassed and then how quickly I suddenly felt supported - comfortably laughing at the absurdity of it all with everyone in the room.
Still, small booths with friends is the only option I will ever consider since that experience!
I’ve just read the words “I’ve done it completely sober twice” and won’t sleep for at least two days just thinking about that. You get the legend (not bellend) award of the year for that!