I went to karaoke last night.
Not down at Ego’s (though I would’ve loved that too, and if you’re a conventional karaoke fan who happens to visit Austin it’s the spot to flex your pipes), but up on North Lamar at one of those places with karaoke rooms.
If you’re unfamiliar with the concept, karaoke rooms are exactly what their name implies: rooms where you and your friends can do karaoke. It’s karaoke without the crowd but also without waiting in line to sing. It’s very much the same as attending a party with a basement karaoke machine. It has its advantages: rotates really fast, you’re with your friends, lots of chances to perform, less nerve-inducing for some, etc. If you’re way too into karaoke and you’re curious how a song will play with a crowd, a karaoke room would be a good place to test out reactions. Obviously, it also has its disadvantages, but we’re not parsing karaoke environments. Let people do what they want.
Sorry for that diversion. Karaoke rooms as a concept aren’t what I’m here to talk about. And this next thing isn’t what I’m here to talk about either, but it bears mentioning.
Tambourines are really fun.
Now, onto the main point of this:
It turns out “Kryptonite” by 3 Doors Down gets the people going.
Really.
It fires up a room.
I’m not a karaoke regular. I like it in theory. I’ve spent way too much time trying to memorize the lyrics to “Semi-Charmed Life” in the hopes that I will one day ignite a packed karaoke bar into a sea of exaltation with my performance, go viral, and bring advertisers to this website in droves. But beyond remembering about once a month that I want to do that, I don’t think much about karaoke. I don’t go very often. I don’t have a go-to song. So when someone passed me the very strange remote control to select a song last night and I happened to hit the “Sort by Artist” button, I jumped on “Kryptonite,” since I knew I knew it (side note: 3 Doors Down leading with a number was a smart move alphabetically. Not only did it lead to me remembering they exist last night and thereby happening upon this karaokical revelation, but it also led to me listening to that song a lot more times on my iPod Nano than I otherwise would have circa 2008).
It was a hit.
There are a lot of advantages to the song. Its verses are easy. There are opportunities to scream “Yeaaaaah!” like the real singer does. Everybody knows the chorus. Everybody loves the chorus. And thanks to the human desire to fit in when everyone else looks like they’re having fun, everyone, together, bellows the chorus with the performer, regardless of race, class, creed, or political affiliation. (If I am ever conscripted into serving in the United States House of Representatives—and since you’re giving me that look, no, I do not know how the American political system works—the first order of business is figuring out whether we like or hate the Senate and the second order of business is getting dueling factions to sing this song together).
It eliminates inhibition.
It stokes adrenaline.
It unites nations under the banner of post-grunge alt rock.
It might not be the perfect karaoke song, but if you’re interested in finding the perfect karaoke song, you don’t sound very fun. It is one to keep in the back pocket. Don’t overuse it, of course, but if you’re struggling to choose and you’re on the spot, think about it.
