Skip to main contentI first sang karaoke in Farmington, N.M., a hell on Earth where there are exactly two things to do. One, get wasted. Two, sing karaoke. Always in that order. When in Rome, I thought.
It wasn't until I moved to Portland that I discovered karaoke's wider appeal. Having experienced karaoke only in jerkwater towns, I was initially surprised to see city-dwellers forsake other nightlife options in favor of this twisted Japanese pastime.
Really, though, the attractions are obvious: caterwauling drunks; tone-deaf, serenading lovers; wannabe Sinatras living in full-immersion fantasy worlds. What's not to love? Karaoke completely reconfigured my weekends, and I allowed myself to believe I'd developed a connoisseur's appreciation of the sport.
Then, last Sunday, I attended the Third Annual Karaoke Contest at the hallowed Chopsticks Express II on East Burnside Street--and discovered that I had no idea.
The bar-cum-Chinese restaurant was already SRO when I arrived, so I squeezed in at the bar and braced for some serious karaoke. It was clear this would be unlike my usual outing, which involves drinking, guffawing at tuneless pals and scouring The Book for new and used Neil Diamond classics. The two dozen or so contestants were deep into warm-up songs. These people were not just in it to get hammered and goof off. They were serious about karaoke. Disturbingly so. In fact, these folks, with their costumes and well-honed repertoires, seemed to comprise a pantheon of local karaoke "celebrities." They seemed to know each other, suggesting the unguessed-at (by me) existence of an underground pro-am circuit.
After the practice round, the organizer gave a quick rundown of rules and judging criteria. Curiously, the karaoke attributes I consider most important--audience interaction, physical stunts and alcoholic hilarity--were to be ignored in favor of "vocal ability" and "song knowledge."
The excellent KJs, Nate and Cherry Sprout (who wore an arm cast emblazoned with the Number of the Beast), performed rocking renditions of "Black Betty" and "Highway Star," and the competition got underway. In the early going, many contestants turned in boring, if respectable, vocal exercises. As the evening wore on, the crowd and crooners both had a bit more to drink, and things improved.
Despite the judges' lack of interest in nonmusical aspects of the performances, many of the songsters, obviously aware you can't win the crowd with a gilded throat alone, enhanced their stage presence. There was much neck-craning when "Carly" performed "Mein Herr" in a saucy Weimar-style cabaret getup. Two hippies made out in front of the stage.
And then came "August," singing the Led Zep classic "Stairway to Heaven" in a homemade angel costume, complete with wings and halo. As Zeppelin crashed into the song's bridge, an accomplice raided the stage, ripping off the wings (despite August's cries of "What are you doing? I need those! I'll fall!") to reveal a rock star's leather pants and studded belt. Unfortunately, the judges remained unimpressed by such theatrics, despite the enthusiastic approval of the crowd.
"Juan," possibly the contest's smallest entry, revealed a big set of lungs as he belted out "Unchained Melody," singing half the verses en español. Ultimately, however, it was "Enrique" who conquered both fans and judges. Sporting black vinyl, a lot of glitter and a feather boa, he took the stage and the audience went wild. As KJ queued up "The Beautiful Ones," the bar erupted again. Enrique obviously enjoys a reputation and, as I would soon find out, boasts a range that even the artist once again known as Prince might envy. And for his trouble, he received the first prize of 500 American dollars.
It was past time for bed, but the owner of Chopsticks, who'd spotted a telltale notebook in my hands, cornered me. He wasn't going to let me out the door before I took my own turn on the mic.
"Any Diamondheads out there?" I asked. "Love on the rocks, ain't no surprise...."
I'm sure it came as a shock.
The finalists for the Chopsticks contest were chosen via a weeks- long qualifying process.
2651 E Burnside St., 234-6171. Karaoke nightly.
The three- judge panel consisted of a husband- and- wife team and last year's winner.
WWeek 2015