Fat Lady Sings: Karaoke Columnist Hopes You've Had the Time of Your Life
Illustration by Mike Gorman
Karaoke can be a dangerous endeavor. What can you sing that won't make friends shun you? How can you go balls-out during your next performance? Each week in "Ask a Karaoke Host," RFT Music writer and professional karaoke host Allison Babka answers your burning questions about maximizing your melodious mutterings and minimizing your friends' pain. Ask her stuff by e-mailing firstname.lastname@example.org or hashtagging #rftkaraoke on Twitter.
Author's Note: After covering just about every karaoke angle possible over the past six months, I'm pooped. With today's edition, "Ask a Karaoke Host" is going on hiatus. I know, I know. Please listen to that terrible Green Day song as you wipe away tears and read this maybe-sorta-final entry.
Because my brain imagines life as both Glee episodes and various after-school specials, I'm compelled to note some things that we've all learned during this column's run:
- You're rightfully hesitant to sing the N-word.
- You like to sing really shitty songs.
- You kind of understand why you can't hang out at my side all night.
- You wanna sex me up.
- You wanna sex anybody up.
- You think about stripping.
- You break shit and sort of feel bad about it.
- You hate kids who are dying.
- You're terrified of karaoke but still curious about it.
That's the big thing, dear readers. Despite your fear of freezing up or gurgling out sounds that can't even be considered musical notes, you've still asked insightful questions as you prepare for your inevitable debut performance. Hell, some of you have even told me personally that you finally did make it to the karaoke stage without fainting, which is no small feat for you shy folks.
That's why I pitched this column in the first place and why I became a karaoke Jedi -- er, host -- several years ago. Helping you gain confidence through song and watching my padawans perform stronger and become more conscientious about karaoke etiquette week after week is utterly intoxicating (Making playlists and singing through my own therapy sessions aren't bad, either). I now sort of understand what stage moms or Little League dads feel like, and I'm grateful and humbled that you've let me bully you about your potential for stardom for this long.
But just because this weekly column is ending doesn't mean that I'll turn away from the karaoke scene. I live in the comic-book world where no one nor nothing stays dead forever, so you never know when we might put together another special karaoke post. Continue to e-mail your karaoke high jinks to email@example.com or Tweet me at @ambabka with #rftkaraoke, and I'll do my best to address what I can.
And now, "Up and out!" as Willy Wonka might say...