November 10, 2005|By Glenn Jeffers, Tribune staff reporter
It's widely accepted that karaoke--the art of standing in a bar full of strangers, wielding a microphone and singing a fun, energetic and unabashedly humiliating song--is embarrassing.
But something happened on a recent Wednesday night as I stood on stage at Hye Bar, 3707 N. Southport Ave.
Drummer Paul Castelli tapped his drumsticks: "One, two . . . one-two-three-four." And then his band, Liquid Courage, exploded into the '80s-laden nostalgia of "Walk Like an Egyptian." The force from the bass drum was thumping in the back of my calves. Guitar chords blared behind my right ear. I spent eight bars experiencing what it must be like to have a live band backing you, what it's like to be a rock singer.
"All the old paintings on the tombs, they do the sand dance, don't-you-know . . . " I sang into the mike.
OK, maybe not a rocker so much as a Bangle.
Regardless of your choice of music, live band karaoke is exhilarating fun, certainly more interactive and evocative than the typical synthesizer-backed, TV-screen Japanese import that's become a staple in American bar scenes and house parties.
"It's like going to a bar to see a concert. Sometimes, you sing," says Garret Brown, guitarist for the Chicago-based Liquid Courage.
Live band karaoke (LBK for short) is catching on in Chicago, growing from a one-night-a-week space filler at the Underground Lounge in 2002 to five nights--Wednesday through Sunday--at numerous locations around the city, including The Original Mother's on Division Street and Stanley's Kitchen. A popular Lincoln Park spot, Stanley's has been known to have celebs such as Kid Rock, Cuba Gooding Jr. and Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan stop by and belt out a couple of songs.
"You might want to tell people to get here early," said Danny Willis, a manager at Stanley's. "It fills up."
Everybody wants to feel like a rock star playing to a captive audience, even rock stars. Whether you can sing or not, though, said drummer Addison Monroe of the Karaoke Dokies, one of three karaoke bands playing regularly in Chicago, the band's got your back.
At least, until the song ends.
"We're the community rock 'n' roll service," Monroe said. "It's the essence of fun. You jump up on stage, you're nervous, your hands are sweaty, but it's a rush."
John Beach of Chicago feels that rush every time he signs up to sing. On a recent night at Hye Bar, Beach swayed around the room, crooning to the small crowd of fellow hams with a little help from Del Shannon's "Runaway," Beach's second song of the night.
After a round of cheers and some chatter with a young group of karaoke singers, Beach left the bar. Another band, the Karaoke Dokies, was playing at Fizz, Beach said, and he wanted to sing a few songs over there before the bar closed.
"You get that drumbeat going right through you, absorbing those vibrations," said Beach, 60. "I don't do it so much for [the crowd]. I'm doing it because I'm having so much fun."
Beach has been singing almost every week for the last three years, ever since he discovered that live band karaoke made him feel like he was back in high school, playing with his garage band.
"That was always in my blood," he said. "So when I heard about [live band karaoke], I thought, `Man I could get that feeling back.'"
That feeling has been part of live band karaoke in Chicago since its start more than three years ago, Monroe said. Friend and fellow musician Scott Shell was hanging out at Arlene's Grocery in lower Manhattan back in 2002 when he saw people in New York singing with a karaoke band that was playing punk and heavy metal.
When he returned to Chicago, Shell put together a karaoke band called the Hootenanners with Monroe and brother-and-sister musicians John and Laurie Miller.
The Hootenanners played every Wednesday night at the Underground Lounge. As more gigs came in, the Hootenanners split with Shell and formed the Karaoke Dokies.
By summer 2004, they created a third band, Liquid Courage, to handle a growing schedule.
(Another group of musicians from Palatine, The Durty Lounge Lizards, also plays regularly in the city and suburbs.)
The bands also have expanded their playlists to include everything from the Counting Crows to Rick James. This gives more people a chance to step on stage, even if they don't know the words to "White Rabbit" or "Blitzkrieg Bob."
"We attract a lot of different people, but there's a connective tissue that comes out," Monroe said. "They all want to sing Bon Jovi for some reason."
And finding the right song can turn a karaoke virgin into a full-out diva. Back in college at Southern Illinois University, Jen Krejca, 28, chickened out of a karaoke competition--they wanted her to sing Devo's "Whip It."
A couple of weeks ago, thanks to some persuasion from her friends, a few drinks and the White Sox sweep of the World Series, South Sider Krejca got up on stage at Hye Bar and belted out Weezer's "Say it Ain't So."
As she left the stage, a triumphant Krejca couldn't stop smiling.
