So last night I gave my vocal chords the first proper exercise they've had in a long time. I mean apart from gargling my way through Beyoncé's back catalogue in the shower (one time I was so physically emphatic during a bathroom performance of Déja Vu that my foot gave way and I came pathetically close to having to learn the alphabet again).
One of my colleagues and I both love to sing. We were both in a cappella groups and loved it. A LOT. So when she told me that there was a bar in D.C. that did karaoke every Wednesday night with a live band (the Hill Country BBQ, for anyone interested), I was like the proverbial kid at Christmas, wriggling about in bed in a Rudolph onesie. I love singing with a band, always have - and I couldn't believe I'd never really heard of karaoke being done this way before. Seemingly in England we prefer our karaoke to a soundtrack of wailing, synthesised saxophones and trumpets that sound more like a fart than a musical instrument.
Somewhat predictably though, as soon as I had signed up to sing, I began feeling somewhat trepidatious. I hadn't sung in front of a crowd in a really long time. And the crowd in this darkly lit, over-crowded and frankly rather large bar was intimidating. Curse my execrable nervousness! Plus, not to blow my own horn or anything, but I'm not a bad singer and I refuse point blank to ever let myself do a shoddy job of singing to a crowd - so enter the additional fear that the audience will share one collective thought: "Who the fuck does this chick think she is?"
Having said this, the atmosphere in the bar was unbelievably good. Everyone's inhibitions were suitably lowered from the copious amounts of alcohol being served in what can only be described as large Nutella jars, which in turn led to some hilarious, if not technically classed as 'good', performances. A particular favourite was the nerdy man in inexplicably high trousers who got up and shouted Hey Soul Sister. It was also a tad high for him so his voice would crack periodically, making him sound like a choir boy who's bollocks were dropping at that very moment.
But anyway, two beers down the line it was almost my turn. Adeline went up before me and did an awesome cover of Don't Stop Believing. I was so impressed. Plus the entire bar erupted and was singing along. I was fully expecting to go straight after her, but of course, unlucky as I am, they chose Adeline's song as the final one before the intermission. And so my nervous wait continued a while longer. I was also beginning to regret my choice of song. I had decided to do Etta James's 'At Last', but everyone else was doing these up-tempo numbers. Cue additional fear number 3: Destroying the mood of the room with my slow, serious song. Plus my mouth had gone dry. The world, it seems, was working against me.
Finally it was my turn. In my haste I essentially threw my handbag at Adeline but retained my beer in a manner not unlike a plane-crash survivor to an inflatable ring in the ocean. I half-ran to the stage - spilling a girl's drink in the process and ambled up in front of the band. The bassist convivially made fun of my accent when I told him what I was singing and then they started to play. Obvs in those first few seconds during the intro I was terrified but when I sang the first two words of the song and the audience realised what I was singing - they cheered and I felt so much better. I enjoyed it a ridiculous amount. I'd forgotten just how gratifying it is to sing in front of a great crowd. I managed to stay in key and even get in a couple of trills and licks in that didn't go too badly. There was a couple that even got up and slow danced, catering to my misguided fantasy that I was Beyoncé singing at Obama's inauguration.
The relief and excitement that I experienced during and after the performance was totally worth the nerves, even though I want to punch myself in the ovaries for even experiencing karaoke nerves in the first place. Safe to say I will definitely going back in the future. They even specialise in BBQ and apparently it's awesome. Could a better place ever exist? I don't think so.
Now I'm off for a tour of the Capitol, given by my lovely Elizabeth and then some delicious Chick fil-A. They don't like the gays but apparently they make GREAT chicken.
Laters, baby. xx
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