OneNineFourSixZero

by Third Nutt

You need to go to Pickering Creek Inn on Thursday nights. Why? The karaoke, dummy.

Ahhh…karaoke. It’s a love-it or hate-it kind of activity that can divide families and friends much in the same way that bowling can. Some will embrace these leisure pursuits with reckless abandon and wholesale joy; others turn a disgusted nose up at such low-brow and derivative tomfoolery.

I myself used to be a part of the latter caste regarding karaoke. That was until I spent two years in the land that birthed “empty orchestra” music – Japan. Upon arriving in the Land of the Rising beer tab, I wanted nothing to do with karaoke. I mean, what the hell is the point of singing someone else’s song, even if I really like it? I can’t sing it as well as they do, and if I wanted to be a butcher, I would have picked up the trade from my Irish granddad. “No thanks,” was my reply for the first month or two.

Fast forward two years. By the time I was ready to leave Japan, I was a bona fide karaoke junkie. How can you tell you’re a junkie? When you’re doing karaoke as sober as the day you were born and loving it just as much as when you’re soused as an Irishman on payday. Well, maybe you’re not enjoying it quite that much, but still really enjoying it.

So, what have I learned about karaoke from my years of “gettin’ on the mic”? That there are two elements that separate “fun” karaoke and “mortifying” karaoke: the music selection and the environment. Pickering Creek has these both covered. Firstly, their karaoke book is as thick as Britney Spears’ pre-nup with K-Fed. If you can think of a catchy song that all can sing to, they’ll have it.

This is a good place to mention two cardinal rules to karaoke song choice: (1) Pick a song that’s less than 5 minutes long. As much as I love Pink Floyd’s 15-minute “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” Parts I-V, no one wants to sit through that. (2) Pick a song to which nearly everyone knows the chorus. Most people may have no earthly idea what’s being said through most of Blur’s “Song 2″, but everyone sure as hell knows when and how to scream “WHOO HOO!!!” And believe me, they will. The patrons at Pickering seem to all have a great instinct for these rules.

Second, and more importantly, is the place. The worst part of many “karaoke” venues is that they put you on a stand in front of a bunch of strangers who seem to expect you to actually be able to sing. Such American Idolatry not only induces panic attacks, but it runs totally counter to the spirit of karaoke – to belt one out with 20 or 30 people who sing almost as badly as you do. It doesn’t matter – the music is still there, and the rhythm will carry you and all of your fellow music fans along with you.

This is where Pickering’s karaoke nights become magical. The bar area can only house about 30 to 40, and it’s extremely cozy, so you’re never intimidated. This has been evidenced by the great variety of music that the patrons pick, and everyone else’s willingness to raise their glasses and voices to join in the revelry. In one of my night’s there, the entire colorful cast of drinkers, friends and strangers alike, joined together in renditions of hits by The Doors, Whitney Houston, Guns n’ Roses, Neil Diamond, Snoop Dogg, Credence, a few Latin groups who I’d never heard of, and others. At one point, my cohorts and I found ourselves doing the robot with a complete stranger for no other reason than the music demanded it.

This is what karaoke is about: good-natured fandom of good (or at least catchy) songs and, let’s face it, goofiness. Pickering Creek gets it and is just the place for the karaoke converted, or those who are looking to catch the fever.