Mosey on up to a tavern when there isn't a big game or race on the big screen and chances are some tyro is singing "Peaceful Easy Feeling" or "Like a Virgin." Dime-a-dozen karaoke nights have become the kudzu of entertainment across the country (or possibly just here), but there are plenty of alternative karaoke experiences around town worthy of attention.
Murphy's Tavern, for instance, features quite a peculiar DJ for Wednesday night karaoke: a guy who calls himself Reverend Carl. Actually he's not really a reverend, he's a pimp who calls himself a reverend in the ironic sense. Well actually, he's just a guy who normally sings in a house band in Rock Hill who sometimes dresses up like a pimp and calls himself a reverend in the ironic sense. Get it? OK, because actually he's a guy who used to pretend to be Reverend Carl.
The first time I tried to see the pimp show, Carl had sinus problems and just did regular-man karaoke. The second time, he had the costume in hand, but decided the crowd wasn't large or rowdy enough for a dealer of prostitutes. In his pimp heyday, Carl was hired to perform at a national Wells Fargo conference. But sadly it seems bastard time has made pimp impersonation a fad of the past. Show up on a Wednesday night, though, and if the pimping mood strikes him, you might just catch the Reverend in action.
A little ways past the cushy Midwood strip on Central Ave, Cafe Nhó gives you a chance to flex your multi-lingual singing skills offering karaoke in Spanish, Korean, Japanese, Taiwanese, Tagalong, Cantonese, Chinese, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Russian and/or boring English. I asked the owner how often Russian or Cambodians frequent the bar. His answer: never.
In fact, my friends and I were the first American customers ever to have ventured into the two-month-old bar. Like the owner, the vast majority of the patrons are Vietnamese.
A few music videos looped on the two large flat-screen TVs. Regardless of the song or the language it was in, it seemed as if the videos all featured Asian women wearing too much make-up walking through nature in slow motion.
An American waitress came up to talk to us like we were in some obscure Vietnamese city and she hadn't seen a native English speaker in a decade. She made fun of Vietnamese music (all the songs I heard were pretty heavy on the synthesizer) as well as one of the regulars (who the waitress said needed to get more plastered to help with her singing). The bar only served Heineken or Corona, and when the waitress' shift was over, she announced to us: "I'm going to get a real drink."
My previous karaoke experiences have been pretty limited. A couple of years ago I drunkenly sang a duet of "Bohemian Rhapsody" and thought it had gone fairly well. Then last year, I attempted Queen's masterpiece solo and sober at the Gold Pepper Grill Uptown. My performance was, in a word, shameful.
One cool thing about Nhó, they bring the microphone to your table which alleviated some of the pressure of performing in front of a crowd. Nhó didn't have my favorite song, "Psycho Killer." (It has now become my life's goal to find a karaoke joint that has some Talking Heads tunes in the catalog.) So, I sang my other favorites: Huey Lewis And The News' "Hip to be Square" and the title track off the first CD I ever owned, Ace of Base's "The Sign." In the words of songwriter/keyboardist/sage Jonas "Joker" Berggren, "Life is demanding without understanding."
The three Charlotte judges were from local pop radio stations. Apparently being behind the judge's table evoked the sarcastic spirit of Simon. Usually the judges had the decency to wait until the Idol hopeful left the studio to make a crack about their performance. One judge had the job of cutting off the vocalists after about 20 seconds of singing, which was funny to watch because most singers thought they would be singing whole songs and got quite flustered when interrupted by "THANK you."
The weirdest contestant at the auditions brought in a stuffed polar bear toy with him and told the judges he planned on legally changing his name to "Polar Bear" soon.
Outside, on the sidewalk twisting around the studio, I asked people if they thought they had the goods to win. With the exception of one realistic (but sacrilegious) vocalist, who said she was only there because "it's more fun than going to church," everyone believed they were the chosen one.
One of the categories on the judges scoring sheet was "unique style," so I asked a contestant in line if he had special style:
Me: "What is your unique style?"
Idol Hopeful: "I just bring it 100 percent, all the time."
Me: "I talked to some people who plan on bringing 110 percent."
IH: "I'll bring it 1000 percent if I have to."
Me: "Are you sure there won't be times when you need a break, and you can only bring it 85 percent?"
IH: "No, that won't happen."