In fourth grade, I landed the part of "Pharaoh" in Joseph & the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and soon after became one of the workhouse boys in a local high school production of Oliver! The stints in musical theater thereafter dwindled, but the commitment to my vocal craft did not.
As soon as I was old enough to drive I was singing behind the wheel, turning the car into my own personal venue with my name on the marquee. Each successive trip prolonged the "extended engagement." What did Celine Dion do at Caesar's Palace? 600 shows? Big deal. Try belting out Meat Loaf during rush hour. Let's see her hit every syllable of "It's the End of the World As We Know It" while maintaining proper following distance. I did it. And I felt fine.
Things went on like that for while, until I tried karaoke.
The place: Dunmore, Co. Galway, Ireland.
The song: "Suspicious Minds" by Elvis Aaron Presley.
Ever since, I've been caught in a trap. I can't walk out. Because I love it too much. Baby.
I've gone through phases of boom and bust. Participation may vary. Over the years, it's been such a great diversion, an excuse for friends and family to gather & warm themselves around a glowing screen. Still, I think I peaked in Montreal, New Year's 2003, when I scored late night free food for my cohorts on the strength of a rendition of "Lean on Me" that I crooned into the counter microphone of the Burger King on St. Catherine Street. A distant second would have to be performing Eminem's "Lose Yourself" for Willis' bachelor party and a rowdy crowd on (the real) Bourbon Street. After that, New Orleans would never be the same. Mostly because that was about a month before Hurricane Katrina.
PS. Sorry to badmouth Celine. She's been responsible for so much joy in my life. And she is fucking amazing:
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