I did my hair toss, checked my nails: In praise of a karaoke night

A bunch of us gathered at the venerable Georgetown Pub in St. John’s Friday for a karaoke night. Our friends Jessica and Brock have been wrapping up a visit, and a bunch of former newsroom colleagues (and a couple of retirees, including me) packed into the place.

It was a popular night, with at least one bachelorette do in progress. In no time there was a lineup outside to get in!

And, yes, I did sing. Or “sing.” I really can’t carry a tune, but there’s something about karaoke that brings out the ham in me.

I did New Order’s Bizarre Love Triangle (it’s been on my mind, as this recent post will tell you), and Brock and I revived our duet of Talking Heads’ Psycho Killer. We’ve been teaming up on it, despite a 30-something year difference between us.

And to finish it off, I did Good As Hell, by Lizzo.

You read that correctly.

I think it worked. Well, the place went up, anyway.

A very tall, very pale, somewhat nebbish-looking dude doing Lizzo is not what people expect … but trust me, it’s what people need, especially around midnight in a bar that has been buzzing for a few hours.

I’ve been to enough karaoke nights to know the mix, and to know that there come points in the evening when a whole bar of strangers (well, clusters of friends who don’t know each other) will absolutely rally around something that’s out there.

So, hello Lizzo. I did my hair toss. I checked my nails. How were we feeling? Good as hell. Jess Singer and our friend Darrell Roberts joined me to sing the “good as hell!” chorus.

Incidentally, I had more than a hunch it would work.

That’s because I did it before — in Toronto, in early December, when we were visiting my mainland-based work family after my retirement. My friend Andrew Davidson put together a thing at a place called On The Rocks on Front Street East, and we had a blast. There were a lot of people we didn’t know, and this is a big ingredient for a good night: karaoke can involve stepping outside of yourself, doing something unusual, and who better to watch than a room full of strangers?

So, late that night, I tried out Lizzo (with former colleague John Bowman backing me up; thanks John). And it worked.

Martha and I left soon after, and when we stepped outside the front door, a bit of a bro stopped me. “Dude!” he cried. “What the F–K was that? That was insane!”

It was a compliment, believe me, and I accepted it graciously.

When I decided last year to retire, I knew what I wanted.

I asked Ariana Kelland, a karaoke queen of the highest order (you have not lived until you see her in action), to put together a night at the Georgetown Pub. It’s a place we’ve gone as a group before, and indeed Azzo Rezori’s retirement in 2016 ranks right up there with one of my favourite moments.

On that night, like this Friday, we also had a pre-wedding crowd in a party bus, except that this time, they were all dudes. The bachelor party were wearing matching shirts, and they were quite, um, refreshed, as the British magazine Private Eye would say. One of them grabbed my arm. “Is that Azzo f–king Rezori?” he yelled.

Indeed it was. Azzo came over, posed for photos and sang a song for them. (I cannot remember what it was, but I do remember him singing the Beatles’ Blackbird, one of his favourites, for Ariana. Or maybe it was the other way around.) The bachelor bros huddled together for a singalong, cheered on Azzo, and then headed back to their party bus.

A sidebar. Recently, I ran into Azzo at the gym, and mentioned the bachelor bros crowding around him. He didn’t remember it!

For my own retirement party last October (it was my last day in the office), we sang, hollered and stayed to the end. I could not have asked for more.

I wish I had taken more photos and videos that night. I did have the foresight to turn my camera on when Curtis Hicks — a talented videographer whose work you see on Here & Now — took on My Way. I loved the Sinatra flair at the end, when he flicks his hat into the crowd.

Speaking of the crowd, the reaction there in the final moments is everything to me. It helps that I know some of these folks, but watching people who’ve never met giving it up when someone is putting themself out there is an utter joy.

We closed down the place that night in October. There were still lots of songs in the well, waiting to be sung, so I pitched an idea to Brian Callahan, then as last night the host of the evening: let us do a singalong, together. He agreed.

And so we led the stragglers into a version of the Beatles’ With A Little Help From My Friends. The perfect thing for a wee, wee hour in the morning.

There are lots of ways to celebrate your friends, and keep your friendships strong.

A night out — maybe making a show of yourself, definitely laughing all the while — is one of them.

Before we wrap up, here is Lizzo and Good As Hell, the way it ought to sound.