The Art of a Karaoke Song

by Nina Clevinger

@ninaclev

You’re sitting on a wobbly barstool, your purse hanging from a hook in between your knees. Before you is a crisp bottle of Miller High Life, and you’ve already picked off most of the label. You’re nervous, but in that tingly way where you almost feel excitement. It’s all the same, really. 

The person you’ve been spending too much time with is on their way to meet you. As the clock ticks closer to seven, you let out a deep breath. 

“Can I get a shot of Fernet?” You say, making eye contact with the bartender. 

“Of course. Did you sign up for a song?”

“A song?” 

“It’s karaoke night.” 

The room turns black. A single spotlight appears. You float to the stage, your name in flashing lights behind you. No longer do you exist in the anxious perils of will-they, won’t-they. Not now. Not on karaoke night. This is showbiz, baby. And you’re a fucking star. 

On weekends in Chicago, Lizzie is the boss. Not the, like, owner or general manager, or anything like that. Her job is far more important.  

Lizzie runs karaoke night. 

She’s seen it all; she knows every secret. She even knows your name, probably. 

It's a Friday morning in January, and Lizzie and I are on FaceTime. She's explaining to me her schedule; how after her 9-5, she preps for the major leagues: karaoke at the local dive. 

“I am a performer, through and through,” she begins. “But when I host karaoke, it’s not about me. Unless I get drunk.”

She explains to me the "absolute chaos" of Fridays and Saturdays, and emphasizes her favorite and least favorite types of performers. 

“First, you have the person that’s there to perform with their friends. They don’t give a fuck, they’re running around, dropping to their knees, having their buddies come up and join them. 

She continued: “It’s a collective, silly, group experience; performing for the love of the game and the love of the people. That's my favorite type.” 

Although seemingly opposite, Lizzie does note her least favorite group exists in more of a venn-diagram with the former, opposed to a category entirely of its own. 

“Next, there’s the former high-school theatre kid performer; they are either really good and goofy, or really good and a little bit too serious.” 

Lizzie continued: “Like, picking obscure songs or Broadway songs that nobody in the bar gives a shit about; and they are objectively killing it, but it’s like, they’re just up there reliving their glory days.

“That might be my least favorite type of performer—the one that's trying to show off, kind of. If you're there to flex, I'm less impressed by you, no matter how good you are.” 

She added: “I'd rather hear someone that sounds like a squeaky tire on your car when the brake pad goes out; as long as they’re having fun.” 

Karaoke night isn’t just about the songs, she’s found. It’s community; it’s bonding. It’s a way to live out your emotions, your urge to connect, your willingness to embrace uncertainty. 

“If a dude gets up there by himself and starts belting ‘Creep’, you look around the bar, and everyone there—no matter their age, no matter their style—they’re like, ‘yeah, I’m a creep. I’m a weirdo.’”

She’s met her regulars’ parents; she knows if you’re on a first date (or a seventh date); she has your favorites queued up before you even walk through the front door. 

That doesn’t mean the song isn’t important, however. To Lizzie, the art of a karaoke song is in its power to be goofy and enjoyable. 

“There's a compendium of songs that everybody does, and thereby a lot of people get annoyed,” she said. 

“Like, what, there’s another man singing ‘Mr. Brightside’? How original.” 

She continued: “Hot take; but those are the ones I love the best. Everyone knows them, and I much prefer when karaoke is a group experience. 

“If a dude gets up there by himself and starts belting ‘Creep’, you look around the bar, and everyone there—no matter their age, no matter their style—they’re like, ‘yeah, I’m a creep. I’m a weirdo.’”

Connection is what it’s all about, at the end of the day. 

“I get emotional at karaoke sometimes,” Lizzie said. 

“These people; they’re out there every weekend, they’re singing, they’re laughing and cheering each other on. It’s really a vignette of life. Karaoke is the great unifier of life.”

interviewed: Lizzie Minarich/insta: @lizzie.min