3 of 101

Write now Article Tools

There was a time when a little group called Two Nicks, a Bill and a Bob ruled the blossoming karaoke scene in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

In 1993 there was only one bar in town with a karaoke night, and there were only about ten or fifteen people who would regularly attend. Karaoke was new and weird, and those who participated in it were suspect. My friends and I were suspect anyway, so we thought we'd give it a shot. All of us. Together. I walked onto the little stage with my boyfriend Nick, his cousin Nick, and our friend Bill. I was Bob, short for Katie-Bob. I was called Katie-Bob for reasons too complicated to explain.

This whole affair was Bill's idea. His whole philosophy was that you had to do things "for the story" (he once tried to get me to sleep with him "for the story" his story or mine I don't know), and karaoke was no exception. I didn't think there could possibly be a story in singing before a group of twelve drunk folks and three annoyed waiters, but what the hell. I had nothing to lose but my dignity.

We opened with a little number called "Video Killed the Radio Star," and it was absolutely the nightmare you are imagining. Nick-my-boyfriend and Bill warbled their way through the verses, I came in on the choruses, Nick's-cousin-Nick clapped awkwardly in the background, and the audience cringed. We exchanged nervous glances, and we were all pretty sure we would never do this again. Until, that is, I nailed my big solo on the "whooooa...radio sta-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ar" bit. At that moment, unbelievably, someone in a dark corner of the room actually clapped and yelled "Whoooooooo!" And when we finished, nobody threw anything at us.

We were all hooked.

For a few months, Two Nicks, a Bill and a Bob brought audiences such hits as "I Am Woman Hear Me Roar" (sung by Bill), "Centerfold" (sung by me), and anything in the catalog by Gary Puckett and the Union Gap.

And then the unthinkable happened - Nick and I broke up, I dropped out of college, and Two Nicks, a Bill and Bob were no more. I still ache with the thought of the void we left in the karaoke world.

I have karaoked many times since, but very rarely have I felt the magic of those first moments with a mic in my hand, my untalented friends beside me, and cheap synthesizer versions of my favorite songs ringing in my ears. And to be honest, it saddens me that karaoke has become so popular with people who can actually sing very well - and could sing anywhere they wanted to, really - that in many bars there is no appreciation for the goofballs.

So this goes out to the old hippie who sings "Aqualung" every week and dedicates it to his mother...

This goes out to the guy who will only perform "The Devil Went Down to Georgia", because he doesn't actually have to carry a tune...

This goes out to the girl who is sure she sounds just like Jewel and doesn't even begin to come close...

Keep singing, y'all. Karaoke belongs to everyone.

Learn more about this author, Kate Cutlass.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Memoirs: True karaoke stories?
We want to hear your view. Write now!