Redneck White Trash Karaoke

During my musical upheaval, I've been experiencing all kinds of performance environments.

Last night was hang-with-the-regular-folk-in-a-dive-bar-karaoke-night. What fun!!

My former radio friend, Julie, is now working at a Home Depot. Previously, she had dedicated many, many years to a thankless corporate radio drug-addict who never appreciated her hard work. Julie programmed the music, scheduled the part-timers, created promos and soothed the fragile egos of the on-air folk, among other tasks. I don't think she ever made more than $27K a year. She RAN that top-5 Seattle Classic Rock station and made everybody else look good. Then, one day, the axe fell. After her unemployment and the chance of gainful employment in the radio biz ran out, Julie took a job in the Big Box Hardware store.

Last night she invited me along to blow off some steam with her co-workers at a total dive bar near Seattle's White Center neighborhood, called Tug.

Tug is the kind of place that has colorful pull-tab banners lining the mirrors behind the bar. The gray carpet is covered with brown beer blotches. Jello shots are a buck a piece. There is a pool room in back, and karaoke every Wednesday and Sunday nights. No stage for karaoke performers. The screens surround the tables and chairs and you get up in the middle of the room with a cordless mic and belt out the tunes. Most of the people could NOT sing, either.

They couldn't sing, but they sure had passion. BEST tune of the night, "Cheater, Cheater" aka "White Trash Ho" - a country tune shouted in a monotone drone by a portly brown-haired diva. Made me want to search out the song and do my own version at karaoke one day! Another favorite performer, Julie's sweet young handsome chocolate co-worker, who had all the rock star poses and none of the vocal abilities while singing his own version of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'". There was one girl, who could really sing and who had fantastic stage presence. And I kept wishing she would leave the bar, while she was singing her Shania Twain tune. Redneck White Trash Karaoke is not about slick performance. (of course, try and tell that to me, when I beat myself up for screwing up Martha and The Vandella's "Nowhere to Run"!)

The big surprise of the night, for me, was the mechanic (still dressed in his gas-station attire) who melted my heart with Bobby Darin's "Mac the Knife" and "Beyond the Sea". Sure his voice wasn't perfect but that soul singing the songs was liquid gold. SIGH.

Julie's longtime friend, Kara and I did a duet on Joan Jett's "I Hate Myself for Lovin' You" and I became MICK JAGGER!!! Singing? Who cares what I sounded like. I strutted around that bar like a pompous cock-of-the-walk. (Apparently, one and a half jello shots made an impact on a lightweight like myself). Oh my god. So much fun. I hate being ladylike sometimes and just need to let my hair DOWN!


Putting Redneck White Trash Karaoke on the list of things in life I MUST do again!