Don’t kill the piano player, aim for the singer

February 8, 2010 at 9:07 am Leave a comment

I’ve probably sung karaoke three times in my life. I prefer to get my humiliation on a more regular basis, as often happens just by being myself. But I do understand the attraction-for a few minutes, a nobody can become somebody in front of verbally abusive and/or vomiting people in a badly lit bar.

And, amateur sociologist that I am, you can tell a lot about people by the songs they choose.

  1. Aging rock chicks like to sing “Crazy on Me” or any other Heart song in which Ann Wilson sounds Robert Plant-ish.
  2. Broads who still own crystals sing Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” or any song that involves Stevie Nicks twirling around in a black cloak.
  3. Number-crunching guys who have yet to be promoted to a cubicle love Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” or any song that sounds ballsy no matter the group or lyrics.
  4. Suburban boys on the edge of puberty love anything that makes them sound urban-songs with rhythmic lyrics that drop vowels and contain colorful euphemisms for sex or the organs involved (see Ludacris, Weezy, Timbaland,Fabolous, et al.)
  5. Girls are up for grabs. They’re hot for any ephemeral Top 40 hit sung by a woman-be it Ke$ha, Beyonce, Fergie, Lady Gaga, or Rhianna feat. whoever-the -hell: any chick act du hour with no last name will do.

Who am I kidding? I’ve sung along to every one of these songs in the car. But I just needed some kind of an intro to this article about  Filipinos killing people during karaoke renditions of Sinatra’s “My Way”

Have a nice day. And remember, public renditions of Ol’ Blue Eyes signature tune may be hazardous to your health.

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Entry filed under: Uncategorized.

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Roberta Gale

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