Karaoke kraze

Though I love to sing, my years of classical voice training have foiled all my previous attempts at karaoke. My operatic soprano seems ill-suited for popular karaoke numbers like "Respect" and "Proud Mary." Add to that a nasty streak of stage fright from my childhood, and I tend to avoid the karaoke stage altogether, unless I'm in the company of a large group of drunken friends. \nBut I was determined to change that as I headed out to the Bluebird on Monday night. Inspired by the stage-diving rockers on Rockstar: Supernova, I was ready for my turn in the spotlight. \nKaraoke at the Bluebird seemed decidedly more casual than at other karaoke bars I'd been to. The event's starting time was more of a suggestion than a hard-and-fast rule. It was already past 10:30 p.m., and the staff at the Bluebird was still setting up the equipment as the first hopeful performers began to arrive. The singers clustered around small round tables in the bar's back room and studied the songbooks, carefully choosing the night's selections. Pieces of their conversation drifted past the table at which I was seated. \n"I wrote down Maroon 5, but now I can't remember what song of their's I wanted to do," bemoaned an already tipsy woman. \nAnd... \n"Why are you signing me up for the Hokey Pokey?"\nWhile waiting for the performances to begin, I took in the atmosphere of the club. The back room was dark and cavernous, and the stage, empty at this point except for equipment, seemed huge. Harsh white lights trained down on three microphone stands placed at center stage. Full-size black and white portraits of famous performers like "The Coug" stared at me from the walls. I hoped he wouldn't pass judgment on me. \nMichael, this week's host at the Bluebird, was a tall, talkative man dressed in a bright yellow sweater. From his perch on the stage, he and the karaoke night regulars maintained a running dialogue liberally spiced with profanity. \nThe first performer, a young woman with wavy brown hair that reached down her back, took on the Janis Joplin classic "Mercedes Benz." She sang all the right notes, but her voice lacked that certain grit and soul characteristic of the iconic rocker. I made a note to myself not to try to imitate any legendary performers. During the second performance of the night, a rendition of the country hit "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels," a group of girls in formal dresses sashayed into the back room. As they tottered around on their high heels, it was clear that they'd already been to at least one bar that evening. The group's leader -- and, the bar soon found out, the birthday girl -- wore a tiara and carried a wand. Laughing and singing, the girls made their way to a table directly in front of the stage. They put on almost as much of a show as the singer.\nOver the next few performances, the birthday girls got the real party started -- cheering, dancing, screaming, even throwing bras on stage. (Judging from the enormity of the bras, I don't think the party girls were their original wearers.) Things got even wilder when the birthday girl herself came on stage to sing "Lady Marmalade." Michael put one of the bras on over his yellow sweater and danced with the birthday girl as she belted it out Patti LaBelle-style. The spectacle was mesmerizing. I was relieved I didn't have to go next. \nBut the next performers managed to hold their own. Apparently inspired by the appearance of the bras, a skinny young man with wire-frame glasses stripped off his t-shirt to sing "Never Tear Us Apart," an '80s power ballad by INXS. Michael, still wearing the bra, joined him on stage, and the two of them performed some sort of interpretive dance. Judging by the audience response, it was a hit. \nAs I watched more performances, my determination to sing grew until it finally outweighed my anxiety. Summoning up my courage, I walked to the stage and picked up a songbook and song request slip. "Think Karaoke for Fun," read the book's cover. Fun or not, I was going to do it. I quickly found the page I was looking for, wrote down a song title and number, and took my slip to the stage. The next performance, however, made me wish I hadn't. Building on the success of "Never Tear Us Apart," the duet partners returned to the stage with the AC/DC hit "You Shook Me All Night Long." The Bluebird itself was shaking as the entire bar sang along. Bras went flying again. How could I live up to that, I wondered. I sat through the next several performances with my adrenaline pumping as I waited to hear my name called. I really had to go to the bathroom, but I was afraid I'd miss my turn if I left. \nIt was after midnight, and the bar was filling up -- more people to hear me sing. But it was too late to back out now. I was committed. If the rockers of Rockstar: Supernova could do it, so could I. \nWhen Michael finally called my name, I took a deep breath and went up the stairs to the stage. As I squinted in the harsh glare from the stage lights, the microphone in my hands, my heart thudded in my chest. What had I gotten myself into?\nThe opening notes of Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life" jolted me back to reality. And without another thought, I opened my mouth and began to sing.