The Greek Tragedy of Karaoke
When I was in high school, I first tried karaoke and it was awesome. I’m completely serious about this. Bored at seventeen without a punk show to go to that weekend, we hit the Timonium Fair Lanes. In the side bar, there was an old fat DJ and his karaoke machine. We picked the worst late 80’s glam metal and went to work making asses of ourselves.
Karaoke makes a lot of sense. Previously, to sing and perform, you needed a venue, a band or, at least, some talent. It was all too serious and way too inaccessible. Karaoke was the people’s revolution. All of a sudden, anyone could do it. One didn’t even need to know the words. It was fun, it was ridiculous and it was entertaining. Pick the best bad song that rocked and let the good times roll.
After college, I moved to Shanghai to teach English and saw a very different side to Karaoke. I was taken out by the Chinese teachers to a “Ka-Li-OK” establishment. Rather than a large bar crowd, our party was put in a private room. I chose to sing Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive”, but was met with no smiles or laughter. The Chinese watched me with complete stoicism and then politely clapped when I finished. They went on to choose songs without irony, sang the best they could and applauded each other in a similar fashion. I’d like to say the Chinese were unique, but if you’ve ever been to Reef on Tuesday, you’ll also find a similar sort of crowd.
Karaoke without self-degradation and humor was shocking, but there is something far worse. Every night of the week, you can find some Karaoke in DC. Most likely, though, it’ll be exactly the same experience. You’re going to hear “Sweet Caroline,” “I’ve Got Friends in Low Places,” and “Living on a Prayer” sung by a gaggle of drunks. The redundancy to the songs chosen and pack singing makes one want to jab one’s ears out.
What happened? How did Karaoke go from something so accessible and liberating to something so serious and systematic?
The Greeks identified this cycle in all of their epics. The tragic hero is at first strong, intelligent and creative. He succeeds only to gain hubris. Then, the gods smite him. Poor Oedipus, Perseus, Jason, Theseus and Bellerophon.
Hubris ruins everything. It causes directors make bad movies and it causes comedians to stop being funny. Writing becomes trite and self-important and music stops rocking. The arrogant and serious stop questioning, stop evolving and stop having fun. In a sense, they stop living.
With karaoke, no longer are people willing to make fun of themselves. They are either really there to perform seriously or they are so scared of embarrassment that they must go up drunk, in a pack, and sing the least experimental song possible. The gods have smited our hero karaoke for its users’ lack of humility. Now, it’s no longer fun.
Karaoke makes a lot of sense. Previously, to sing and perform, you needed a venue, a band or, at least, some talent. It was all too serious and way too inaccessible. Karaoke was the people’s revolution. All of a sudden, anyone could do it. One didn’t even need to know the words. It was fun, it was ridiculous and it was entertaining. Pick the best bad song that rocked and let the good times roll.
After college, I moved to Shanghai to teach English and saw a very different side to Karaoke. I was taken out by the Chinese teachers to a “Ka-Li-OK” establishment. Rather than a large bar crowd, our party was put in a private room. I chose to sing Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive”, but was met with no smiles or laughter. The Chinese watched me with complete stoicism and then politely clapped when I finished. They went on to choose songs without irony, sang the best they could and applauded each other in a similar fashion. I’d like to say the Chinese were unique, but if you’ve ever been to Reef on Tuesday, you’ll also find a similar sort of crowd.
Karaoke without self-degradation and humor was shocking, but there is something far worse. Every night of the week, you can find some Karaoke in DC. Most likely, though, it’ll be exactly the same experience. You’re going to hear “Sweet Caroline,” “I’ve Got Friends in Low Places,” and “Living on a Prayer” sung by a gaggle of drunks. The redundancy to the songs chosen and pack singing makes one want to jab one’s ears out.
What happened? How did Karaoke go from something so accessible and liberating to something so serious and systematic?
The Greeks identified this cycle in all of their epics. The tragic hero is at first strong, intelligent and creative. He succeeds only to gain hubris. Then, the gods smite him. Poor Oedipus, Perseus, Jason, Theseus and Bellerophon.
Hubris ruins everything. It causes directors make bad movies and it causes comedians to stop being funny. Writing becomes trite and self-important and music stops rocking. The arrogant and serious stop questioning, stop evolving and stop having fun. In a sense, they stop living.
With karaoke, no longer are people willing to make fun of themselves. They are either really there to perform seriously or they are so scared of embarrassment that they must go up drunk, in a pack, and sing the least experimental song possible. The gods have smited our hero karaoke for its users’ lack of humility. Now, it’s no longer fun.
posted by American Dilettante at
4:48 PM
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