In another life, I would be a rock star. I only recently decided this, after decades of impressive shower performances and impromptu air guitar solos in my car, because of the magic of karaoke. It took that as-real-as-you-can-get experience to cement my parallel destiny as one of the finest peacocks up on that stage but I think I always knew this. Ever since I was a younger version of myself, I’ve gravitated towards performing and singing and hitting that spotlight even if I wasn’t hamming it up as much as possible like I just have to do now. Being a rock star is the perfect combination of technical skills and showmanship and when they’re both firing on all cylinders, goddamn it feels good to be in that limelight.
As a mildly vain person, I do love to be the center of attention. It didn’t used to be that way, in high school and college I was weirdly anti-social and my life is ever the poorer for it!, but now that I’ve settled firmly into the role of Guy Who Tells Joke at Party and Smirks for Exponentially Longer for Each Person that Laughed at It, it’s clear that being a rock star would both sustain and deeply satisfy me. I’ve always loved singing so I’ve got that on lockdown but really, it’s the goddamn moves that get me going. The sudden crack of the neck when the snare hits, the hair whipping across the face during a key change, the arching of the back during a particularly wailing solo. That body movement stuff feels almost preordained to me, like I’m not even directing the flow of energy and each limb is flailing on its own and each grimace is fated to peak right after the guitar solo. You’re rocking that mic stand just so perfectly and that pure surge of emotion just fuels the next chorus. God, I’m getting jacked up just thinking about it.
Though maybe that’s just dancing, maybe I’m just describing dancing… But really, it somehow feels different when you’re singing too. Like the voice is a portal for the song to sneak in and possess your mortal body, executing its perfect earthly performance exactly as it sees fit.
And that’s the beauty of karaoke! For us Win Butler wannabes, it’s both practice and performance for honing that sublime combination of peacocking and crowdwork in the arena. And crowdwork, my friends… I can’t emphasize it enough. Working those strangers into your performance and making them part of it is so crucial for a rock star. You’re here because of these people, be they screaming fans or a couple bums nursing Hamms on their bar stools. Go out there and shove the mic in their face, give them the chorus and then whip over to the young couple by the wall and give them a private serenade. Sure, sometimes your mic will be grabbed by an especially zealous Britney Spears fan during Oops I Did It Again and suddenly they’ve returned to the stage in your place to finish the song and you’re left wondering if this woman seriously just took over your set… but those times are few and far betwixt, my friends.
But really, that’s the beauty of being a rock star! One minute, you’re soaking up the adoration, fulfilled for yet another day, and the next, you’ve inspired someone to go up and perform for themselves. It’s the Circle of Karaoke, baby, and honestly, nothing feels so good.
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| me irl |
As a mildly vain person, I do love to be the center of attention. It didn’t used to be that way, in high school and college I was weirdly anti-social and my life is ever the poorer for it!, but now that I’ve settled firmly into the role of Guy Who Tells Joke at Party and Smirks for Exponentially Longer for Each Person that Laughed at It, it’s clear that being a rock star would both sustain and deeply satisfy me. I’ve always loved singing so I’ve got that on lockdown but really, it’s the goddamn moves that get me going. The sudden crack of the neck when the snare hits, the hair whipping across the face during a key change, the arching of the back during a particularly wailing solo. That body movement stuff feels almost preordained to me, like I’m not even directing the flow of energy and each limb is flailing on its own and each grimace is fated to peak right after the guitar solo. You’re rocking that mic stand just so perfectly and that pure surge of emotion just fuels the next chorus. God, I’m getting jacked up just thinking about it.
Though maybe that’s just dancing, maybe I’m just describing dancing… But really, it somehow feels different when you’re singing too. Like the voice is a portal for the song to sneak in and possess your mortal body, executing its perfect earthly performance exactly as it sees fit.
 |
And that’s the beauty of karaoke! For us Win Butler wannabes, it’s both practice and performance for honing that sublime combination of peacocking and crowdwork in the arena. And crowdwork, my friends… I can’t emphasize it enough. Working those strangers into your performance and making them part of it is so crucial for a rock star. You’re here because of these people, be they screaming fans or a couple bums nursing Hamms on their bar stools. Go out there and shove the mic in their face, give them the chorus and then whip over to the young couple by the wall and give them a private serenade. Sure, sometimes your mic will be grabbed by an especially zealous Britney Spears fan during Oops I Did It Again and suddenly they’ve returned to the stage in your place to finish the song and you’re left wondering if this woman seriously just took over your set… but those times are few and far betwixt, my friends.
But really, that’s the beauty of being a rock star! One minute, you’re soaking up the adoration, fulfilled for yet another day, and the next, you’ve inspired someone to go up and perform for themselves. It’s the Circle of Karaoke, baby, and honestly, nothing feels so good.
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