Okay, time to bite the bullet and tell the long-awaited, sure-to-be-disappointing karaoke story from Saturday night. It's sure to be a stinker, but whatevs.
So after a long, fruitful day of hungover photo posing, I did what any sane, mature adult would do: I spent the rest of the day drinking more. A lot more. Because I'm physically and emotionally healthy, that's why.
Late in the evening, Vinny Shit on the Face and I joined up with Maura, KFunk et al over at the Courtside, our favorite karaoke haunt/lair of forbidden love. If you read last Friday's journal, you are no doubt familiar with my triumphant return to karaoke after a long layoff. "Separate Ways" by Journey was my tune of choice, much to the chagrin of all those pairs of panties in the room that would have liked to remain dry for the evening.
So on Saturday, I decided to go back to the well. "Separate Ways" again. After only a one-day layoff. Now, many of you know that I take my karaoke quite seriously. I usually don't repeat songs at all, much less only two nights later. But I decided that it was such a smashing success the previous attempt, why not give an encore performance?
The karaoke gods disagreed. They lay the most smacketh of downs on my silly ass. First off, the high notes just weren't there for me. Apparently, despite my inflated sense of self, Steve Perry I'm not. When I realized midway through the first verse that the high notes weren't coming, I decided to make up for it with a little showmanship. Jumping around, dancing, pumping my fist - I might just be able to land this puppy!
I don't know if you've heard about this, but alcohol can sometimes affect your equilibrium. Did you hear about this? Sometimes - and this was news to me - when you're drunk, you fall the fuck down! Who knew? During the second chorus, I took a monstrous tumble backwards, feet over ass. It was, shall we say, a touch embarrassing. Like, Shockmaster embarrassing.
Luckily, it wasn't the first time I had ever fallen down on stage (and very likely won't be the last), so I was able to keep crooning without missing a beat. I even managed to writhe around on the floor a little like the chick from the Billy Idol "Cradle of Love" video, much to the delight of pre-pubescent boys everywhere.
Still, it was a clear-cut case of karaoke hubris. I've learned my lesson - the power to sing Journey is not to be abused. It is a privelege and not a right. Steve Perry - if you're listening from your cloud up there in heaven... I get it. It will never happen again. I will never again wield the awesome power of your godlike tunes my own nefarious drunken purposes.
From now on, I'm sticking Scamper songs. Hey - maybe I should start on Friday at the Middle East Upstairs with our johnny cakes-cooking, volunteer fire-fighting fuddies Harris, along with Baker and Hospital Grade. I'll try to stay upright for most of our set. 10pm start.
So after a long, fruitful day of hungover photo posing, I did what any sane, mature adult would do: I spent the rest of the day drinking more. A lot more. Because I'm physically and emotionally healthy, that's why.
Late in the evening, Vinny Shit on the Face and I joined up with Maura, KFunk et al over at the Courtside, our favorite karaoke haunt/lair of forbidden love. If you read last Friday's journal, you are no doubt familiar with my triumphant return to karaoke after a long layoff. "Separate Ways" by Journey was my tune of choice, much to the chagrin of all those pairs of panties in the room that would have liked to remain dry for the evening.
So on Saturday, I decided to go back to the well. "Separate Ways" again. After only a one-day layoff. Now, many of you know that I take my karaoke quite seriously. I usually don't repeat songs at all, much less only two nights later. But I decided that it was such a smashing success the previous attempt, why not give an encore performance?
The karaoke gods disagreed. They lay the most smacketh of downs on my silly ass. First off, the high notes just weren't there for me. Apparently, despite my inflated sense of self, Steve Perry I'm not. When I realized midway through the first verse that the high notes weren't coming, I decided to make up for it with a little showmanship. Jumping around, dancing, pumping my fist - I might just be able to land this puppy!
I don't know if you've heard about this, but alcohol can sometimes affect your equilibrium. Did you hear about this? Sometimes - and this was news to me - when you're drunk, you fall the fuck down! Who knew? During the second chorus, I took a monstrous tumble backwards, feet over ass. It was, shall we say, a touch embarrassing. Like, Shockmaster embarrassing.
Luckily, it wasn't the first time I had ever fallen down on stage (and very likely won't be the last), so I was able to keep crooning without missing a beat. I even managed to writhe around on the floor a little like the chick from the Billy Idol "Cradle of Love" video, much to the delight of pre-pubescent boys everywhere.
Still, it was a clear-cut case of karaoke hubris. I've learned my lesson - the power to sing Journey is not to be abused. It is a privelege and not a right. Steve Perry - if you're listening from your cloud up there in heaven... I get it. It will never happen again. I will never again wield the awesome power of your godlike tunes my own nefarious drunken purposes.
From now on, I'm sticking Scamper songs. Hey - maybe I should start on Friday at the Middle East Upstairs with our johnny cakes-cooking, volunteer fire-fighting fuddies Harris, along with Baker and Hospital Grade. I'll try to stay upright for most of our set. 10pm start.
23 Comments:
Steve Perry is the best singer of all time. Shame on you, fucktard. Maybe warm up with something a little more your speed next time - something like "A Thousand Miles" by Vanessa Carlton.
Steve Perry is the best singer of all time. Shame on you, fucktard. Maybe warm up with something a little more your speed next time - something like "A Thousand Miles" by Vanessa Carlton.
I deserve this abuse. I really do.
steve perry isn't dead.
don't scare me like that.
Just because he's not dead doesn't mean he's not looking down at us all from heaven.
Steve Perry is the best singer of all time.
http://www.platywebs.com.au/pic/thumbs_down.gif
Besides you, Henry.
henry,
i know you are going for that steve perry "is it a mullet?/is it a shaggy cut?" look, but seriously, don't put him down because he's more awesome than you.
jealously is really just so wrong.
and brendan,
if anything is looking down on you from heaven it's the wheel in the sky that keeps on turning.
Our love, holds on.
I 100% agree with Steve Perry as the best singer of all time.
Who's better, Henry? Who?
Roy Orbison.
David Coverdale
This should be a board topic: "Most Capable Male Rock Vocalist." Not "Best Frontman." Not "Most Charismatic." Most capable. My votes go to Roy Orbison, Steve Perry, and Jeff Buckley (as much as that pains me).
I'll entertain Roy Orbison, but David Coverdale is a poor man's Steve Perry, as is Lou Gramm.
Coverdale is more a screaming, urine-soaked homeless man's version of Robert Plant.
Freddie Mercury. Forgot about him.
Sammy Hagar
Jason Halogen
Jason Halogen
Ha ha ha.
Best singers of all time list would have to make a run through each of the Beatles including Ringo, then Jen, then Roy Blaze, then Ross when he tries, then Bob Dylan, the Kelly Clarkson, then each of the Beatles including Ringo again, then me before reaching Steve Perry.
This is not an opinion. A gypsy told me this.
Best singers of all time list would have to make a run through each of the Beatles including Ringo, then Jen, then Roy Blaze, then Ross when he tries, then Bob Dylan, the Kelly Clarkson, then each of the Beatles including Ringo again, then me before reaching Steve Perry.
This is not an opinion. A gypsy told me this.
Still not as crazy as listing Jason Halogen. ha ha.
http://www.medicinefilms.com/player.php?clip_id=183435
we might be heading to the courtside this friday night- it's my friend adam's 30th and he's quite the karaoke whore- but so how about this chick:
http://www.krissyinboston.com/?p=201
hates the courtside. then again, she's lame enough to have "filed a formal complaint with the bar" over a friday karaoke night, so this is the caliber of loser we're talking about...
Jon Gorey, you're mistaken. I didn't file a complaint with the bar; another member of my party did. So someone else is obviously that "caliber of loser." Asshole.
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