By Michelle Saturley
Staff Writer

Karaoke started as a mere oddity; a bizarre Japanese game-show import to be attempted only after many drinks and a double-dog-dare from fellow barflies. But on any given night in the Queen City, at least one of the army of bars and nightclubs is packed with secret singers from all walks of life.

Step into McGarvey’s, The Uptown Tavern, The Empire Lounge or the Yee Dynasty and you’ll find housewives and frat boys, dentists and students – some of them inebriated beyond comprehension, but many more stone cold sober – all stepping up to the mic to entertain, impress or maybe get some muchneeded attention after a dismal work week chained to a desk.

(from left to right) Kristine, Karen, Nichole, Laura and Patti, do their version of Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots are Made for Walking" on the Yee Dynasty's main stage. The women, who did not want their last names used, were celebrating Karen and Laura's 28th birthdays.

Who are these performers, and what is it about karaoke, as opposed to joining a band or a theater group, that draws them to the experience, oftentimes week after week? A recent Friday night at the Yee Dynasty, considered by many to be the pinnacle of the karaoke scene in Manchester, revealed a few different answers to that question. The truth is, everyone has their own reasons and motivations for writing their song choice on that little piece of paper and waiting for the words to start rolling up the screen. For every song, there’s a different kind of singer. Here are a few of their stories.

The Girl Group, aka Drunken Divas
It’s Friday night, and a group of 20-something women are cutting loose. One of them, donning a sparkly silver tiara, is celebrating a birthday and she’s not sure if she’s happy about it yet. But no matter. She and four of her best friends are gyrating around on stage, belting out the lyrics to Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots are Made for Walking.”

The Girl Group is one of the most common sightings at a karaoke night. Like the hair salon of the fifties, the karaoke bar is a popular gathering place where women can gossip, laugh, flirt harmlessly and complain about the men in their lives or lack thereof. Common song titles for the girl group include “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” “Respect,” and Meredith Brooks’ “Bitch.” For K.J. (karaoke jockey) Mike Sebastian, the best thing is to think of them as a local version of Destiny’s Child – if Beyoncé just did six shots of tequila.

The Frustrated Front Man
Jeff Brooks, with a sneer on his lips and a pumped up fist, delivers an impressive version of Billy Idol’s “Dancing With Myself.” With his strut and stage presence, Brooks is the textbook example of the Frustrated Frontman – someone who once had dreams of replacing David Lee Roth in Van Halen, and probably has practiced his Mick Jagger pout in the mirror on more than one occasion.

The Frustrated Frontman is a common character at the karaoke bar, but rare is the man, like Brooks, who actually has the chops to carry the title. Too many Frustrated Frontmen have the moves, but not the voice, or vice versa. Maybe Brooks, when he tires of being accompanied by canned music, will put together a band or make the trip from the karaoke bar to the coffee house to perform at an open mic night in the near future.

The ‘Artiste’
A cherub-faced young man in a poncho steps up next. He sings “Wicked Game,” by Chris Isaac, and has a completely earnest look on his face the entire time. He’s not just performing the song; he’s feeling it. This isn’t just a fun Friday night escape to blow off some steam; he’s got something to say tonight, and he’s using the song to say it.

The Artiste is probably someone with very few other creative outlets in his life. Perhaps he secretly longed to go to art school, but became an accountant instead. He may not be the best singer of the group, but the crowd appreciates his effort. And with the microphone in hand, eyes closed, it’s clear that this makes him feel alive in a way that filing tax returns will never quite achieve.

The Musical Theater Guy
From the moment he saunters on stage, you know he’s no beginner. Musical Theater Guy is also known as The Ringer. He’s probably played either Jesus or Judas in a high school production of “Jesus Christ Superstar,” and he might even take voice lessons. He knows exactly which song to sing to showcase his voice, the correct key, and the choreography to go along with the lyrics. He doesn’t even need to follow along on the prompter screen. This is his domain, and he’s there for the applause.

The audience has a love-hate relationship with Musical Theater Guy. On one hand, he is highly entertaining to watch and hear. But he also has a habit of showboating which makes anyone else who has to follow him highly annoyed. Musical Theater Guy, if left unchecked, can sometimes become The Hustler, who runs the karaoke circuit, pretending he’s a newbie. Musical Theater Guy needs to get himself an agent and hit the audition circuit.

The Cheerfully Tone Deaf
The regulars at the Yee Dynasty all know about “Goatgirl.” They tell me I can’t leave until I hear her performance. Sebastian says she’s something of a legend at the Yee. It isn’t long before she’s introduced – by her real name, of course. At first, I’m confused about the nickname. She doesn’t look like a goat. In fact, she’s an attractive girl, nicely dressed, who moves confidently. But when the musical intro is over and she opens her mouth to sing Peggy Lee’s “Fever,” it becomes painfully clear where the moniker came from. Not only is she woefully out of tune, but Goatgirl also has a vibrato that sounds like she’s sitting on a washing machine during the spin cycle. The worst part is she seems completely unaware of the actual sound coming out of her mouth. In her mind, she sounds exactly like Peggy Lee.

The Cheerfully Tone Deaf performer is harmless in most cases. After all, the average karaoke performance only lasts about three and a half minutes – barely a blink of the eye in a four-hour night on the town. But the danger is when this unfortunate singer thinks she has true talent, and she ends up embarrassing herself in other venues. We may someday see poor Goatgirl being mercilessly skewered on national television by Simon Cowell or other notables. So, if you are the friend of a Cheerfully Tone Deaf person, do them a favor and don’t tell them how great they sound. We’ll all thank you for it by buying you the next round.

Harder than it looks
Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. That’s sage advice about many things, including karaoke. When I decided to find out what all the fuzz was about, I soon learned that there’s much more to a stellar performance than reading the words off the prompter.

“A good performer doesn’t always have the best voice, but he puts his personality into the song,” said Mike Sebastian, a karaoke DJ at the Yee Dynasty. Sebastian and his fellow DJ, Kerry Preston, have been masters of ceremonies on Friday and Saturday nights at the Yee for almost 13 years, and have seen it all – the good, the bad, and the downright frightening.

Song choice is key.

“It should be a song you are very comfortable with and has some meaning to you, but it should also be a match for your voice,” Preston said. “I think that’s a common mistake. People just want to get up here and sing their favorite song and it’s not in their vocal range.”

With this advice in mind, I picked Janis Joplin’s “Me and Bobby McGee.” Not only is it one of my favorite songs, but I felt pretty comfortable with the words and the vocal range. Plus, I sing it in my car and in the shower all the time.

But standing on the small stage at the Yee, it occurred to me that singing in my car is a whole lot different than singing in front of this formidable crowd. Alas, this realization came far too late. When the music kicked in, I suddenly had a huge lump in my throat and my hands started shaking. At this point I understand why the second most common fear is the fear of speaking in front of a crowd.

I started to sing, but between the feedback of the sound system and the noise level of the crowd, I couldn’t really hear myself. The only way to tell if I was in the right key was to monitor the faces of the people in the front row: if they winced, I knew I’d hit a bad note. By the time I got to the end of the song I hit my stride, and I actually started to enjoy myself.

“Not bad,” said Jeff Brooks, a seasoned karaoke veteran. Coming from him, I took that as a compliment.