My dear wife Karen and I went out for a night of social fun with our good friends Georgia a Bert a few weekends back, to a Central New York spot that’s known for its karaoke.
Singers, on Milton Avenue in Solvay.
It lived up to its reputation.
Georgia loves to take the microphone and go for it.
She’s one of Karen’s girls getaway pals, and I’ve been hearing her barroom vocal abilities for years now.
She professed to some nerves, but I didn’t believe it for a second.
Georgia sounded calm, cool, collected. And really good.
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And she was just one of a number of good singers that night. The good thing is that the singers at Singers picked songs from different styles and time periods. It made for a truly entertaining night of lookie-Lou and listening.
On subsequent songs, Georgia took the mike and walked around the joint. Nice.
As for me, I summoned my courage and went with my go-to song, Mack the Knife. Karen says I sounded good, but I didn’t think I was on my game. It had been a while since I’d sang karaoke, and I’d lost an edge.
OK, I sang a second song, Jimmy Buffett’s A Pirate Looks at Forty. I tore into the big hook, I made enough money to buy Miami, but I pissed it away so fast with gusto, but again I knew I was less than, ahem, on tune.
Toward the end of the night, Karen asked me to take a shot at The Raspberries’ real-oldie Go All the Way Hell, yeah, I loved that bubble-gum special from our youth, so up I went. I was so lost. After screwing up a lot, I crossed my hand over my throat and handed the mike back to the DJ. Ah, well.
By the way, we took an Uber to Singers. No beer drinkers in our group drove home.
While I was lamenting my loss of edge, Karen softly suggested that I might want to practice some songs with YouTube on my iPad while she’s working the second shift.