2911 W Berry St, FW. 817-926-9600.
2408 E Belknap St, FW. 817-222-2244.
A D V E R T I S E M E N T
A D V E R T I S E M E N T
Karaoke. The word itself looks like it might be the name of some frighteningly conceived, poorly designed, rubber-suited star of a Japanese monster movie. The dreaded Karaoke’s attack would consist of blasting the frenzied populace with ear-splitting off-key sonic blasts and would have a half- dozen horribly aberrant heads, with one or two that might make you think, “Hey — that one’s actually kinda cool.”
Much like real karaoke itself. For years, The Moon, where I tend bar part-time, has resisted that tried-and-true formula for getting butts in the seats. Alas, no more. Every Monday from now until who knows when, the bar’s regulars — mainly hipster musicians and TCU students — will have something to do other than scream-talk to one another after they’ve drunk their inhibitions away. Am I scared? Let’s just say that Mothra and Ghidorah are now looking as low-key as Cliff Claven and Norm.
I popped in last Monday for the inaugural show, a round-robin of everything from Nancy Sinatra to Eminem. Needless to say, most performers’ grave levels of sincerity were directly proportional to their overall degrees of awfulness.
Except for Steedo.
Frontman for Haltom City-based Southern-metal powerhouse Shotgun Messenger, Steve “Steedo” Smith came up to me at one point with an earnest expression on his face and said he wanted to do some AC/DC but just wasn’t sure which song would be appropriate. Naturally, I suggested a nugget from the Bon Scott era, and by the time my fourth double-whiskey-’n’-soda had magically disappeared, Steedo had launched into a rendition of “Big Balls” that couldn’t have been more pitch-perfect. He was so good, in fact, that at one point several customers had alighted upon bar stools and began sing-shouting along: “We’ve got the biggest! / Balls of them all!!!”
Karaoke, obviously, is a group thing, but when a performer can wring participation from the audience, he or she is clearly a master. (Granted, Steedo is a ringer. But still.) While scary-oke is, at best, unintentional comedy and, at worst, sadistic schadenfreude, it can have its moments. Case in point: Steedo last Monday.
Maybe it’s the booze talking, but I’ll be back next week. And I don’t even have to work. — Steve Steward
Bar Convo Tips
I’m tired of people telling me “Never talk religion or politics at a bar.” Well, why the hell not? Especially now that the most important U.S. presidential election in history is approaching and the future of Western civilization is hanging in the balance. It’s almost as bad as Kübler-Ross’ “Five Stages of Grief,” a bunch of B.S. that some psychiatrist came up with 900 years ago and that everyone today still takes as gospel.
Actually, if there’s one place where religion and politics should be discussed it’s at a bar. For one thing, aren’t we all tired of going over the same old topics? Have you seen this or that movie yet? It was awesome. How ’bout dem Cowboys?! When in the name of Guinness Stout are you ever gonna pick up a tab? And so on. For another, our less informed, blinders-wearing friends need enlightening. (Just kidding! But not really.)
The problem is that most folks approach the typical bar convo about religion or politics as an opportunity to speak their minds rather than as a gentle inquiry into what their friends think. True, booze tends to bring out the yappy a-hole in all of us, but if we’d remove the stigma associated with discussing high-minded and inherently sensitive subjects in bars, maybe we wouldn’t be as defensive and eager to tear the heads off people who aren’t as smart as we are. Um. I mean, “don’t agree with us.”
My advice: Go to your favorite watering hole and after ordering just ask the nearest person whom he or she is voting for. (Caution: Do not follow up his or her response with, “So. How’d you get so stupid?”) – Anthony Mariani
Like polyphonic ringtones, mashups are the real underground music. Any DJ who’s able to lay, say, Christina Aguilera’s vocals over a Scorpions song and make it kick ass is cool by me. And like musical mashups, video mashups are just as underground and, if you dig deeply, equally awesome. (Any time I’m feeling down, I go to YouTube and call up Tunenvy’s “Barney Crank That Soulja Boy,” a video of Soulja Boy’s eponymous crunk hit as “performed” by Barney the big purple dinosaur. “Youuuuu!!!”) DJ Roonie G does a little of both, mashing and synchronizing songs and videos together. His attack is pretty ingenious, mainly because it allows wallflowers to just sit back and not feel like they’re total losers. On Friday, the resident DJ at the Mirage’s Jet Nightclub in Las Vegas comes to town to perform at his regular Cowtown haunt, swanky nightclub Chrome. Visit www.djroonieg.com. – A.M.
Contact Last Call at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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