One Nostalgia Place: My First Karaoke Bar
Until a couple of months ago, I had never sung Karaoke — not for real. There was the time when a Karaoke DJ set up at a Sonic in Mesquite, and I sang “Cowboy Take Me Away” by the Dixie Chicks with my daughter. I followed that up with “Hopelessly Devoted to You” by Olivia Newton-John — but the Sonic quit having Karaoke, so I thought that was it. Of course, I’m in the church choir, but besides that, I hadn’t sung a song into a microphone in front of an audience since fifth grade in the ‘70s — it was “MacArthur Park” by Donna Summer. But the fact that I remember that experience may explain things. Apparently, I’ve always wanted to sing Karaoke... even before it was invented.
So when the folks from Totally Twisted Karaoke came to the company Halloween party, and I finally got the chance to try it, I was hooked. I sang first, and often. I knew I’d have to do it again, so I started planning. Friday night was going to be the best bet, and the list at DFWKaraoke.com showed a lot of possibilities. To my surprise, though, all the listings were for various bars and clubs... Dallas, apparently, doesn’t have an actual “Karaoke Cafe” or a dedicated “Karaoke Bar”.
This presented an issue... you see, I’d never been interested in going to a bar or club. I rarely drink, and the idea of spending as much on a couple of shots as it would cost for a whole bottle of Tequila seemed nuts. In 20 years of marriage and three years of being a single dad, I probably hadn’t been to a bar a half dozen times — and then, only to wait for a table, or maybe meet someone. Before that, I’d been to a few bars with my stepdad, where I learned how to shoot Tequila Slammers. That was a long time ago... but if the bar was where Karaoke was to be found, that’s where I was going to go.
So I looked through the list. There were so many places! There was Lone Star Lanes in Sherman — they also have a DDR machine, but Sherman was too far. A bingo joint... a Japanese restaurant... a place that offered private family Karaoke rooms, like the original Karaoke concept in Japan. But the entry that caught my eye was a joint called “One Nostalgia Place”, near the junction of Skillman and Abrams. I guess it was the name — after all, most of the songs I knew were ‘70s and ‘80s. That’s pretty nostalgic, at least according to the kids. So I did some Googling, and the reviews looked interesting. It was described as a “neighborhood bar”, locally owned, friendly and laid back. A guy named “Mr. Bill” did the Karaoke on Friday nights. So it was settled... I was going to try it out.
After the jump: On stage for the first time!
I had no idea what to expect. I figured it wouldn’t be too formal, but I did dress up in my best Western shirt, with a New Mexico-style Southwestern design. I put on enough deodorant to cover the starting lineup of the Texas Rangers. And not even knowing what to look for, I headed for 6521 Abrams Road. Was it some sort of big deal, a themed joint with kitchy doodads on the walls and waiters in Buddy Holly glasses? Maybe it would have a converted Airstream trailer in the front, like that joint that used to be in Deep Ellum? Looking back, I’m not even sure how I convinced myself to try it. But I cranked up my mp3 disc and drove out.
It turned out to be nothing like I’d imagined. When the reviews said it was a “neighborhood bar”, that’s exactly what it was — a place where the locals come and hang out after a long week working at the daily grind. Slightly off-tempo music came through the door, letting me know that I was in the right place for Karaoke. Tucked between a dog groomer and a Walgreens, it was almost immediately comfortable. At the back, a few folks sat around a small bar. A few battered TVs soundlessly showed some unobserved sports event. Right by the door, crammed into a corner, was what I’d come for — a couple of microphones and a TV screen scrolling song lyrics. I sat where I could see the singing area and figure out what to do. There wasn’t a stage, just a spot where the tables had been cleared out for the DJ’s setup, and a couple of microphones near the door. A waitress asked me what I’d like to drink... with very little experience in answering the question, I went for a Tequila Sunrise. With that, I grabbed a book, and tried to figure out what to sing.
Most of the patrons at One Nostalgia Place were my age (40s) and older, but there were also some 20-somethings and 30-somethings. The song selection seemed to lean heavily towards old standards — Sinatra & co. I started out with “Dixieland Delight” by ‘80s country supergroup Alabama, a tune that I sang at the company party and remembered doing pretty well. It played well again — I wouldn’t notice until later that it starts with a background vocal that nearly drowns out the singer. I suspect that the effect was just what I needed to get started.
Mr. Bill, the Karaoke DJ, was a very gracious host. He answered all my newbie questions. Like at the very first, when I brought several slips to him, and he gently explained that I needed to bring them one at a time. While some DJ’s (like Totally Twisted) are set up to load multiple songs per singer, most aren’t set up to queue up both singers *and* multiple songs. And even when they are, it can be a hassle for the DJ, who is often already getting hassled by singers asking why they haven’t gotten called yet. But I didn’t know anything about that yet, at least not first-hand.
I also learned a little bit about Karaoke publishers. Mr. Bill’s song list, like most I’ve seen so far, includes the disc and track number. So any particular song, especially a popular song, may have two or more entries — maybe a half dozen — each fr0m a different studio. Some are better than others. He even told me which studios he generally prefers... I wrote down the abbreviations on the back of a song slip, but ended up losing it later. Mostly, though, my songs only had one or two choices, since I’d already learned fr0m my research not to sing the same songs that have been done to death!
So the first song went great. Even though the audience was largely busy with their own affairs, talking and drinking, it was a blast! I turned in another fr0m my stack of songs... can’t remember what it was now, but I think it may have been Charlie Robison’s “Barlight”, a song I didn’t expect to find in a songbook, but perfect for Karaoke. A few other patrons took their turn, and Mr. Bill sang a country song fr0m the ‘60s. I sang again. Mr. Bill played “Cha Cha Slide” — the song that tells you to “slide to the left”, “slide to the right”, and “freeeeeeeze”. All the ladies in the bar danced between the tables. I even tried dancing with them, but had to settle for dancing *near* them. Nonetheless, it was more fun than I ever expected!
There were some interesting moments, though. A few of the ladies got up and sang something called the “Pussy Cat Song” — about a poor little cat that finds itself hot, bald, sore, wet, and otherwise in a *terrible* condition. For being a blatant bit of sexual innuendo, it was actually kind of cute. Not so the follow-up, by the 50-something guy who had previously modified the lyrics to “Kansas City” to say “... and I’m going to get me some”. In case there were any doubts about where his mind was at, he sang a song called “Blow Me”. Where the lyrics to “The Pussy Cat Song” were suggestive, the lyrics to “Blow Me” were explicit — and, frankly, stupid. There’s nothing cute about singing “Get on your knees and Blow Me”, whether it’s a young rapper with bling around his neck, or an old white guy with bourbon in his glass.
But that was just a hiccup in an otherwise great night. I kept singing, and gave Mr. Bill a new slip from a growing stack every time I got done. I had a second Tequila Sunrise, and was introduced to the tradition of the almost-closing-time complimentary Jello Shots. After just one, I had to give the next to one of the drunker ladies — she promised to sing a duet with me, but she was too far gone to remember to pick a song. By the time 2am rolled around, I had sung a half dozen songs or more. The rotation was pretty simple by then: me, someone else, and Mr. Bill. Then an intermission to make sure there wasn’t someone (anyone!) else wanting to sing, then I would be up again.
Finally, there was Last Call, and Mr. Bill sang a farewell song — I suspect he always sings the last song. Something has to keep you going through the bad times, like when the group of drunk chicks stumbles through “Goodbye Earl”, or when you know a little too much about the guy for whom a “suggestive” song just isn’t clear enough. For some DJs, I think it’s knowing that you at least get to sing the last song. After all, there wasn’t a line of people waiting — just one guy singing in public for the first time, who could have gone on all night. And that guy wasn’t complaining in the least.
A few of the songs I sang, the first time I did Karaoke “in the wild”:
* “I Like Beer” by Tom T. Hall — fun story song, sung low
* “Centerfold” by the J. Geils Band — got the crowd going the most of any, since we were almost all of an age to remember it
* “Kryptonite” by 3 Doors Down — a nice change of pace
* “Don’t Come Home a Drinkin’” by Loretta Lynn — in a strange key, so I had to go pretty low
* “What’s Your Mama’s Name, Child” by Tanya Tucker — Very nice sad song, good range (better than “Delta Dawn”, for sure)