Music makes the world go round

Sometimes you work in an office with colleagues that synchronistically compliment each other. Each brings a specific set of talents to the table, which in turn get absorbed into the mother talent pool and becomes a greater entity than its individual components. Kind of like the Borg. My office had such a dynamic. Men and women with disparate and infinitely unique skills would meet everyday to flex their specialty muscles and bounce off each others.

I say HAD since we are no longer the team we used to be. Some of us have been abruptly pulled away to work for new masters. Again like the Borg. What you have left are splintered groups of a former team. Contributing to the mission but like shells of our former selves. Need I say it again, like the Borg?

That is until we are reunited not at the beckoning of our masters but for a much more primal call - to fill our guts with booze and enjoy the musical stylings that only karoake can bring. Wednesday night found 12 of us crammed into a tiny booth, colored twirling lights casting psychedelic beams on the walls, knees crammed to chests, microphones clutched in hands no longer programming or updating content.

It started off a nostalgic note: Dream by the Everly Brothers. It stayed pretty high brow with Shea squeezing out Blondie's One Way or Another, unfortunately playing 5 keys to high. Then it got silly with yours truly and Damarys lisping I know you want me (Calle Ocho) by Pitbull. Any song by a man named Pitbull is destined for disaster, especially I don't speak Spanish and Damarys had to heroically brave forward.

Drinks aplenty arrive. Manali must always do one retro song that has us simultanously laughing and blushing at the lyrics. This time it was a George Michael song, does it matter which one. Really now?

More revelers arrive. The newly married Mrs. ah Yang (I guess as she doesn't intend to change her name) and her hubby Peter. Jamie, the English hubby of Mariana shows up. The joint is packed but no deterring us, as long as we have room to sit the drinks. Ping shows us what he's been practicing at home no doubt (that boy MUST have his own karoake machine. how else to explain his impeccable timing and throbbing baritone?) Push and Mack the Knife.

Mariana doesn't usually sing but this time she makes a request. It's Big Balls by AC DC. Just read them and you'll know why we watched her in slack jawed shock. Michael sang a few Irish ditties very well with a pint of beer in his hand. Last thing I remember before fleeing the scene was another duet with Damarys. This time Push It by Salt and Pepa. We helpfully provided choreography in addition to the lusty lyrics.

Top 10 songs to Karaoke before you die

Been spending a bit of time doing something I never contemplated. Singing in karaoke bars. Odd development considering my not too shabby musical lineage. My mother is a classical Indian singer. My cousin Tom Prasada-Rao is a multiple Kerrville songwriter of the year winner and possibly the best male vocalist I've ever heard. My other cousin Rekha (we ran out of names, ok?!) is a jazz singer/pianist. I did the occassional stint as backup and studio singer on top of the 10 years I sang in the choir. You heard me, choir. Chorale music performed before a live audience, mostly in church. 4 part harmony (sometimes 5 if a 2nd soprano was called for). I sang alto and sometimes tenor if Laurie Yost wasn't around to carry the tenor line with the 3 shy boys lassoed in from band.

I really loved it. Skye Sweetnam might think music is her boyfriend. It was my escape. My rendezvous with forbidden freedom, even if I was singing to sweater-wearing, blue hair rinsed old ladies cradling well worn Bibles. Even if I was harmonizing about the Old Testament prophet Moses and his bad ass serpent-transfiguring staff. But when one doesn't sing, the vocal chords normally accustomed to high Gs, breath control and generally emitting sounds acceptable to human ears atrophy. Badly.

So I discovered when my colleague Ping invited me to a karaoke evening with promises of happy hour Cosmopolitans. Why not give it a whirl, I've only sung for a quarter of my life. Apparently a quarter does not suffice. This new generation, and by that I mean the devilish kids who grew up with media channels like uTube, Myspace and reality television to showcase their nebulous but nonetheless unique talents. Did you forget James Hung already?

Luckily Ping's vocal talents are neither nebulous nor disturbingly unique. The boy can sing, really well. The Killers, 3 Doors Down, and best of all - Creep by Radiohead. Holy shit! what an epiphany to hear a hometown guy (via the Asian Karaoke belt) bellow Creep in a tiny 4 seater karaoke room with a disco ball glinting jewel colored lights against the dingy walls.

My singing fared less well. Years of rusty car singing to Classic Rock stations or JACK simply could not fabricate a confident, much less digestible voice. So I crackled and popped through some gruesome renditions of contemporary pop. No I'm not going to name them so you can giggle.

But I perservered at Ping's drawn eyebrowed request and guess what? I'm getting my chops back baby! So in honor of this newly acquired skill I'm paying homage to the mistakenly silly ritual of karaoke by listing 10 songs you MUST sing karaoke-style before you die.

10. New York State of Mind - dedicated to the formerly from San Francisco but now a bona fide New Yorker Ms. Sheila Shea.
9. Santeria - Sublime. Come ON.
8. Any song by the Carpenters
7. Killing me softly - Fugees version
6. Battle Flag - Lo Fidelity Allstars
5. Anything NOT by Bobby Vinton
4. Teen Spirit - Nirvana
3. Rappers Delight, with 3 participants otherwise forget it!
2. Lady Mamalade - either version
1. Total Eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler. The gravelly-voiced Tyler was reputedly a sword swallower and had the boys in my high school all misty eyed whenever it played. And yes, I've karaoked it.

For my amusement add your fave picks for songs to karaoke in any old order you please.