Skanky Lyrics

I was at the Karaoke Café not long ago, enjoying a fun evening of karaoke---you know, like all of the cool kids do---when a father and his young daughter stepped up to sing a duet. Their song choice was, in my mind, somewhat unusual.

It was Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now." This was a disturbing choice for a father/daughter duet because (1) it's a country song, obviously, and (2) it's basically what I call "The Drunk Dialing/Booty Call Song" about two lonely people, plastered with whiskey, talking on the phone at 1:15 a.m. because they "need (each other) now."

Being completely snockered is a perfect frame of mind in which to express your deeply felt romantic feelings for someone else, isn't it?

Unless I failed to capture the deeper meaning of this masterpiece of modern music, that's what the song is about. In the Angry White Loner's view, it's not exactly this millennium's version of "Butterfly Kisses" for a daddy/daughter duet.

This incident aside, there was also the wedding reception I attended recently. The happy couple had a video playing in the chapel foyer that showed many photographs from their growing up years, all set to catchy romantic tunes---a rather common sight at wedding receptions here in Utah.

The only problem? One of these tunes, Plain White T's "Rhythm of Love," wasn't so much romantic as it was a song about a couple having a one-night stand.

Heavenly stuff!

Don't get the AWL wrong, sports fans; he loves music and singing just as much as the next person. It's just that he sometimes wonders whether people actually listen to the lyrics of the songs that they sing and play over and over again. For him, skanky lyrics tend to ruin what otherwise would be great songs.

Karaoke Nerds Unite

As I discussed in a recent post, I am white and nerdy about a lot of things. One of the things I'm especially nerdy about is karaoke.

I have been hooked on karaoke from the first time I tried it. Years ago at a singles activity, there was a room with a karaoke machine in it, and out of sheer curiosity, I signed up to sing Hanson's immortal hit from 1997, "MMMBop." I began singing the song in a lovely falsetto, designed to match that of lead singer Zac Hanson. By the time the song was over, though, my throat began to get tired from that, so I switched my voice to an octave lower.

Afterward, friend of mine approached me to tell me that it sounded like Hanson going through puberty.

At any rate, I had lately been feeling what my friend the Awkward Mormon Girl calls "The Neediness" (assuming I have correctly understood what "The Neediness" is, AMG) and decided to begin organizing monthly karaoke nights at the Karaoke Café in Murray for myself and my friends as a way of reaching my required karaoke quota. There were seven of us in June and four of us in July. This past Tuesday night, I was joined by only two friends out of the dozens who were invited.

Sure, it's the Law of Diminishing Returns in action, but all you really need is at least one good friend with you in order to enjoy an evening of karaoke, so two is an added bonus. In addition to being a fantastic place to work on such theatrical techniques as performing solo songs in front of crowds and stage presence (all three of us are, after all, members of the Improvables), the Karaoke Café is also a great place to people-watch.

There are the showtunes geeks, usually singing selections from Wicked, Les Misérables, or Disney's many animated films. No fewer than five women ever take the stage together to sing and/or shout "Girls Just Want to Have Fun," "I Will Survive," or "Dancing Queen." There are older couples reliving happy memories from their long-ago days of courtship, and there are young adults, teens, and kids. There are often as many tone-deaf people as there are those who can genuinely sing well, but, truth be told, nobody cares if you can sing well or not. In karaoke, it's a win-win deal, as everyone listening cheers on every singer who takes the stage, which is really what it's all about.

On this particular Tuesday, there was even a group of what I can only surmise were either special-education students or a special-needs Primary, many of whom were brought in in wheelchairs. A handful who sang could barely make coherent sentences, but even so, we clapped to the beat along with them and applauded them wildly when they finished, which I am sure only made them feel good about themselves.

It's certainly 10 times better than watching "American Idol," which is basically a national karaoke contest but with far-less interesting people. Especially that Seacrest guy.