by Geraldine Moorkens Byrne

Created on: May 12, 2009

We who are about to sing....

In a way there has always been Karaoke, at least in spirit; I grew up with the great tradition of late night sing-song sessions. At some point in every evening a lone voice would strike up a classic song (anything from Molly Malone to American Pie) and for an hour or so the assembled company would do their party piece. It was a noble tradition, along with storytelling and ceil dancing, and among friends the most piercing voice or tone deaf warbling could be easily forgiven.

However, all but the most confident singer confined their attempts to the bosom of their family and friends, until the advent of nifty little machines preloaded with songs and lyrics, every pub and club in the country. In the mid 90s the thwarted ambitions of many a failed rock star found an outlet under the coloured lights of a pub stage, microphone lovingly cradled in one hand and one eye on the little bouncing ball that highlights the words.
As a nation we discovered several things simultaneously; that we are not as musical as we thought, that we don't know the words or tunes of most of the songs we think we can sing, and that it really doesn't matter. Because once you are up there, a sea of faces before you, and a crowd hanging on your every breath, you can finally be Frank Sinatra or Bono. You are the lead singer in your favourite band. You are a rhinestone cowboy or a pop tart. It's up to you.

Karaoke has its detractors. It is undeniably a form of torture for anyone with more than average pretentions to musical ability. It promotes self delusion on a scale previously unknown and it is more than likely responsible for the audition rounds of American Idol and the X factor. It's the ultimate talent show and a throw back to gladiatorial arenas.

On the other hand it is perhaps the finest blood sport known to man; not only that but it has everything necessary to provide great drama including the poignancy of hope, the tragedy of misplaced dreams, the occasional triumph when a decent voice soars above the rest, and comic relief in great abundance. In few other circumstances can you listen to a fellow sing, roar with laughter, point and mock, and yet still remain perfectly within the bounds of propriety.

Of course, like all great cultural movements it had to pass its peak; there came a time when the silver curtains came down and the karaoke machines were put away in all but the most die-hard of venues. It became a footnote in the history of fun, save only for the occasional Kitsch Japanese restaurant, providing karaoke rooms for hen nights. It was a sad decline for a glorious pastime but as ever, time and taste marched on.

Until Xbox and PSP muscled in on the action - Lips and Singstar respectively provide the fun of karaoke in the privacy of your own living room. Fabulous graphics, added functions, extra points for volume and intonation, and a massive playlist have all helped resurrect the art of the sing-along. Gather your friends, pull up your favourite power ballad and let it rip - we're back full circle, to the old fashioned sing-song complete with modern karaoke style. We still can't sing, we still don't know the words properly. But at least our families and friends won't laugh - much.

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