Tag: karaoke

ONLY NOISE: Laughing at the Apocalypse with R.E.M.

ONLY NOISE explores music fandom with poignant personal essays that examine the ways we’re shaped by our chosen soundtrack. This week, Erin Rose O’Brien pays tribute to a silly song about the end of the world that helped her conquer apocalyptic anxiety and post-9/11 panic.

1.
Exactly zero karaoke places have the correct lyrics to R.E.M.’s “It’s The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).” You can trust me, because I check all of them. At least two karaoke places (private room, I’m not a monster) have the same video, with the same font: a skinny, sans serif caps lock with perfectly round Os. It’s my backup song, the one I do if the room is getting tired, if my voice is shot. It’s a guarantee the room will shout “LEONARD BERNSTEIN” while doing a fist-pump. I make someone else sing the Michael Stipe vocals toward the end so I can sing to the Mike Mills part that goes, “Time I had some time alone.”

Plenty of my friends rightfully hate karaoke, and the other group of my friends are INTO IT. I mean, like, hours and hours. They flex music knowledge via song choice, regardless of your singing abilities, and no matter how well you do, it’s a celebration. “It’s The End of the World As We Know It” is a cop-out choice. You don’t need a lot of talent to pull it off, but I can’t be Stevie Nicks 24/7, so here we are.

2.
Reading about music on Wikipedia as a teenager (a hobby), I found the 2001 Clear Channel Memorandum, a list of songs that were “banned” for Clear Channel radio stations to play. This started in corporate but moved down to zealous station managers. Clear Channel announced later that it was not an outright ban, but a suggestion of songs too sensitive to be played post-9/11.

The list is devastatingly on-the-nose. “Burning Down The House” from Talking Heads’ Speaking In Tongues. U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” Dave Matthews Band’s “Crash Into Me.” Some are just paranoid choices: all songs by Rage Against The Machine. And behold, there she is, “It’s The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).”

Knowing which songs are banned would be my party trick, if people still had those. Last time I was at karaoke I pointed out that the room had picked three of these songs so far. Morbid, yes, but I was young when I came across this list, trying to make sense of the tense, paranoid world my adolescence was set in. I was fascinated.

Long Island was intense post-9/11. Everybody knew somebody, or knew somebody who knew somebody who died, and everybody was angry. Here is what I knew for sure: we should not have invaded Iraq. I cried about it at my 13th birthday party.

Concurrently, I feared the world ending. I waited for it. I was sure of it. I lost sleep in worry. Staring into space didn’t fill me with wonder, but dread. Every unusual star in the sky could be the beginning of the end–I didn’t care how many people told me it would be okay.

3.
“It’s The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” is incredibly literal. A manic pace, a false-quiet bridge like a reckoning, and it goes on for over four minutes, relentless. The world is crashing down and you’re experiencing it in first person. Then the song fades–it doesn’t ever truly end. It’s not R.E.M.’s finest song (that’s “Find The River,” don’t @ me), but it’s at home on Document. “It’s The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” is the lightest of the bunch; even the album’s lead single, “The One I Love,” is morose, darkened by bass.

I’ve been listening to Document a lot lately. Time is elliptical, things come back in style, war is forever. Document is the first R.E.M. album where you can hear Michael Stipe clearly–the vocals and lyrics are no longer obscured. Lyrics jump out as terribly relevant still–“hang your freedom higher,” in “Welcome to the Occupation” is about American intervention in Central America according to Michael Stipe, but there are a thousand sneering applications for it. “Exhuming McCarthy” is anti-capitalist singsong (“You’re sharpening stones / walking on coals / to improve your business acumen.”) Peter Buck told Melody Maker in 1987: “Reagan is a moron and that’s all there is to it. I get upset when I think about him.” There is no doubt that Document is a political record, but it’s one that doesn’t make any grand proclamations about the state of America. It’s as confused and scattered as one might feel flipping through channels.

Comparatively speaking, the lyrics to “It’s The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” are nonsensical, but it’s easy to draw comparisons between them and the 24-hour news cycle. For Michael Stipe, the song did mimic the televised spectacle he was repulsed by; he called it “bombastic, vomiting sensory overload” in a 1987 Rolling Stone cover story on R.E.M. For me, the song mimicked the constant loops of fear in my brain, running down every end of the world scenario. In that same interview, Stipe identified the song’s opening-line earthquake as his biggest doomsday fear: “I usually get headaches when an earthquake happens – when Mexico City went down, I was on my back for three days, really bad.”

“King of Birds” is also based on Stipe’s earthquake sensitivity, specifically, about the idea that animals can also sense when an earthquake is coming. The song treats this power like a burden (“Standing on the shoulders of giants / leaves me cold”). The drums march on, a sober delivery of the inevitable.

4.
The video for the song is of a distressingly messy home (perhaps not even a home). Sixteen seconds in there’s an R.E.M. poster, and nothing else of the band. It has the vibe of a looter going through the destruction for anything he can find; a personal camera to make sure all the details are there. Some toys, a football. A teenage boy poses with a portrait of some forgotten man. Hold on boy and portrait, turn to camera. The boy plays with the found objects, as if to mimic the events leading him to this place. It’s shockingly present-tense–like a post-apocalyptic haul video. And for a song so frantic and searching, so much of it is steady. The camera pulls away from the destroyed home. The boy dances. He does skateboard tricks. He’s gonna be okay.

By my account, I’ve survived several apocalypses. Folklore prophecies, scientific, geopolitical. There was a 2012 Family Radio Judgement Day sticker stuck to a telephone pole in my hometown for years–it withered after time. I’m still here, until climate change kills us all.

Everyone on Twitter jokes about wanting something to put us out of this misery. I am obsessed instead with survival. Not prepper-level, but emotional. No longer the child who stayed up in fear of a strange light in the sky, I seek out anything that laughs in the face of death. Hand me the microphone. I got this one.

ONLY NOISE: An Audience of None

In what world does this sound like a good time? You are in a dark room, surrounded by drunks you don’t know, and some you know too well. Your favorite song is playing, only it’s a compressed, simplified version void of lyrics. You are holding a cheap microphone, and the fate of the next three minutes is in your hands, and most crucially, your voice. For many, this sounds like a grand ol’ time, and it is the enthusiasm of that majority that keeps karaoke alive. For me, it is the stuff of nightmares.

One might assume that any avid music fan, particularly someone that makes a living writing about music and fandom, would enjoy nothing more than showing the whole wide world, or at least the whole wide bar, their hidden chops and impeccable tastes. Music critics are all supposed to be failed musicians, right? What better way to display our unappreciated talent, to walk our daily talk? Obviously not all critics have left trails of defunct bands behind them, but it’s true that many of them love their karaoke—and I certainly know a few who have the same passion for it that John Goodman’s character has for bowling in The Big Lebowski. Things get competitive. Not only is vocal technique scrutinized, but the very song you choose to sing might as well have its own scoring category.

There are only three approaches to choosing a crowd-pleasing track. Your selections will typically go well if they fall into one of these categories: 1) Timeless Songs, i.e. “Crazy” by Patsy Cline, or “Crying” by Roy Orbison, though I strongly deter you from both unless you have serious pipes. 2) Nostalgic Songs, meaning songs that the crowd grew up on. These are often cuts once thought of as bubblegum garbage, but with the passage of time have been crowned in the High Court of Pop Classics. For instance, Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me a River,” and anything by Britney or Destiny’s Child. And then there’s category number 3) Ironic Songs. In my experience, this is the most mined category, probably because everyone is in for a good laugh at 2:45 a.m., and no one has to worry about the quality of their voice while singing “Last Resort” by Papa Roach. Apply this formula the next time you go to Korea Town and rent a room. I assure you, it works, and I learned it from years of going to karaoke parties, doing nothing but watching from afar.

In fact, I was just at one last weekend. Unfortunately for pedestrian karaoke enthusiasts, this shindig was 90% musician-populated, which results in a disadvantage to the less musically-inclined folks in attendance. Still, the formula applied. Someone sang George Jones (Timeless), a couple dueted Sugar Ray (Nostalgic), and a trio of dudes unleashed their worst alt-rock baritone for a rendition of Lifehouse’s “Hanging by a Moment” (Ironic). About midway through the performances, a friend asked me, “So, are you going to sing anything?” “Oh no,” I said, “I’m a sadist. I only watch.”

Friends and family usually interpret my refusal to sing karaoke as some kind of repression, or at the very least, a curmudgeonly, fun-hating trait of mine. I don’t blame them for thinking this, but it’s just not true. The fact of the matter is: I simply loathe performing. I hate the game, not the players. Nothing makes my skin crawl more than the thought of being in the center of a room, shuffling through a song and dance while being watched by others. I’d rather swim through an in-ground pool filled with mayonnaise (again, while no one is watching) than bare my soul, and exhibit my most private pastime to an audience.

It’s not that I dislike singing. Quite the contrary, in fact, I love it. The first thing I do when I realize I’m alone in my apartment is blast tunes and sing along at the top of my lungs. Sometimes these private karaoke sessions are paired with elaborate, and slightly dangerous dances through the kitchen. I can be very performative, but I’m not an exhibitionist, and my spoon wielding, choreographed versions of Kate Bush’s “Suspended in Gaffa” are for my eyes and ears only.

Maybe I could trace my fear of public singing back to a wedding I attended with my dad over 15 years ago. It wasn’t a particularly fancy wedding, but what it lacked in panache it made up for with a karaoke machine (aka, a humiliation station). My father, who has been a musician since childhood, may or may not have sung a song that day; I truly can’t remember. What I do remember was him shuddering when someone went sharp, grimacing if they fell flat, and quietly critiquing their mic technique (or lack thereof). A large portion of my family are performing musicians, and sometimes I think they’re waiting for the day I’ll burst into song along with them by the campfire. But sitting with my dad and listening to that wedding karaoke over a decade ago, I think I learned that I like things a lot better on the other side of the microphone.  

BAND OF THE MONTH: High Up Premieres “Alabama to the Basement”

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Photo by Andy Lachance

Ever been to a karaoke night and heard a voice rise up that actually sounded… really good? Christine Fink has one of those voices. She’d relegated her talents to karaoke nights in crowded Alabama bars – that is, until her sister Orenda, well-known for her work with Saddle Creek mainstay Azure Ray, dragged her into a bigger spotlight.

Christine moved to Omaha to form High Up with her sister, brother-in-law Todd Fink (also of The Faint), Josh Soto, and Matt Focht. This month, they released a self-titled four-song EP that blends classic Southern rock and soul, with a little punk vibe thrown in for good measure. Thematically, its songs capture longing and love in the tradition of Otis Redding and Aretha Franklin, but also critique the Capitalist machine with sassy bangers like “Two Weeks” and “Your System Failed You.”

Whether belting out a protest anthem or crooning an ode to a crush, High Up is a band that feels good to listen to, like slipping on a favorite jacket you haven’t worn in a while. Their debut album You Are Here, slated for release next month via Team Love, continues along the same lines, mixing up bluesy, heartfelt ballads and raucous shout-along refrains, like on album opener “Alabama to the Basement,” which we’re premiering below.

The song is a celebration of letting go and rocking out, with clear autobiograpical vibes regarding the band’s origin story. As a kid in middle school, there were certain songs I would set my radio to wake me up to; this song has that same rush, that energy you need to fight through another day, or push through a shitty situation on your way to something better. It’s the perfect introduction to an album that that tonally runs the gambit from high energy cheer to soulful sorrow.

We sat down with Christine to talk about loving your parents music, what it’s like writing with her sister, and when we can see High Up out on the road.

AF: You’re originally from Birmingham, Alabama correct? What did you grow up listening to as a kid?

CF: Yes, born in Birmingham, but spent varying years of my life in other towns – Ashville, Oneonta, and Muscle Shoals. My parents exposed me early on to stuff like Pink Floyd, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, Hank Williams, Graham Parsons and the like. I was really into oldies as a kid – Frankie Valli, Beach Boys, etc. My first real exposure to soul I think was when I saw Smokey Robinson on Sesame Street in the late ’80s. I was never really the same after that. As I grew older, I developed a taste for punk and indie as well, and all those styles kinda melded to form my tastes as an adult.

AF: I always find it funny when people initially reject their parents music, only to come back to it later on with more perspective. Music can be so interesting when styles collide.

CF: Absolutely. I don’t remember really ever having disdain for what my parents listened to. They have great taste! Of course, they might remember differently!

AF: The story goes that your sister and band member, Orenda Fink, saw you perform karaoke in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. She was blown away and immediately thought you should start a band together. Was this a scary proposition?

CF: I jumped at the idea. It was really a big reason for me moving to Omaha to begin with – giving up the corporate grind and pursuing more creative endeavors. I’ve always had such great reverence for Orenda and her work, and wanted a chance to work with her creatively. The scariest part is probably the financial instability of playing music more or less full time. And rejection of course. But those fears come with the territory and the rewards outweigh the risks in my eyes.

AF: What were your go-to Karaoke songs?

CF: I love trying out all genres, so I pepper in a little bit of everything. My go-tos are usually midnight train to Georgia – Gladys knight and the pips, whole lotta love- Led Zeppelin, sometimes I’ll throw in some Radiohead or Dolly Parton for kicks.

AF: Can you tell us a bit about the songwriting process for High Up? Is there a lot of back and forth between you and Orenda? Or does she take lead when it comes to composition?

CF: Orenda does the bulk of the songwriting, but I co-write and we have a few other co-writers. The whole band collaborates on the tunes to varying degrees. It’s very open and collaborative.

AF: I love the video for “Two Weeks.” It really nails the playfulness and soul of the band. What was the production process like?

CF: Thanks! We recorded the video over the course of two days I believe? Harrison Martin directed and filmed and we had so many friends help. It was a blast and very low stress. It’s important to have a good time and we wanted to reflect the good vibes of the group who gathered to help us. It was a relatively quick and easy process because of the professionalism and talent of everyone involved. The scariest part was probably me having to stand on the table without busting my ass!

AF: “Blue Moon” really hit me in the gut. Can you give me a little background on its genesis?

CF: It hits me too to be honest. I’ve struggled with mental illness most of my life, and the song is really a way to express an almost constant sinking feeling, of feeling like I’ve exasperated those I care most about. There’s a little glimmer of hope in there: “I can’t take it much longer… Or so I say.” Because I can, I hope we all can, and can learn compassion, patience and love for those in our lives who are struggling.

AF: It’s wonderful that you felt comfortable sharing that kind of emotion. I myself struggle with anxiety and depression. It can be comforting to hear someone else’s journey. Were the lyrics difficult for you to share with the band? Or was it more of an unburdening?

CF: I feel like not sharing that emotion would be disingenuous. It’s who I am and I’ve gotten such comfort from other musicians who have been brave enough to open themselves up. Orenda and Morgan Nagler of Whispertown actually wrote that song for me, culled from many tearful admissions on my part. They took what I was experiencing and their reactions to it and wrote the song. It was heartbreaking to read for the first time, but also very cathartic. I’m so very grateful for their talent and ability to fine tune my messy emotions.

AF: Many of the songs on the album take their subject matter loosely from the Bible, such as “Glorious Giving In.” How does spirituality (or your reaction to it) play into High Up’s themes and material?

CF: I can’t speak for other members of the band, but I don’t have any kind of religious belief system. I love religious iconography and many of the allegories associated with religion, but I don’t subscribe to the actual belief system. We use spirituality and references of such because they do speak to the human condition a lot, and I appreciate that. I’m more of a nihilist, with a heavy dose of the Golden Rule.

AF: Can we expect to see High Up on tour soon?

CF: Yes!! We have a nationwide tour in the works for the month of March in support of our first full length, You Are Here, which comes out February 23rd on Team Love. 

AF: What do you hope the audience takes away from a High Up show?

CF: Lots of merch! Just kidding… My goal is to entertain and connect. I want people to have fun, get mad with me, get sad with me, laugh and cry with me. We’re all pretty fucked up, right? And so many times we feel like we’re the only ones, but we’re not. It’s important to reach out to others and say hey, you’re not alone, we can get through this together. If you can dance and sing along through the anger and tears, so much the better.

Preorder High Up’s debut album You Are Here via Bandcamp, and be sure to check them out on tour this Spring.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

PLAYING COLUMBUS: Holiday Round-Up

Whether you think Columbus is as cold as I do (@ me, midwesterners) or not, shorter days and darker skies can drag at anyone’s energy. And for those estranged from family or friends, this time of year is especially hard.

If the holiday festivities are draining you, fear not! Check out our Playing Columbus-approved activity guide to have *actual* fun and beat the Christmas blues. In true testament to Columbus’ burgeoning music and art scene, we’ve chosen something to do for each day this week. Grab a cocoa, strap into a sled, and find something new.

Thursday, 12/21

The Columbus Queer Open Mic featuring Tatum Michelle Maura of TTUM

Wild Goose Creative’s last open mic of 2017 will feature TTUM, the musical project of Tatum Margot, a Columbus-based multi-instrumentalist, singer, song-writer, and producer. Margot’s first electronic album, Flawless Ruby, came out in October of 2017. Along with TTUM’s performance, the community is invited to bring art, music, poetry, comedy, and story-telling to share. Sign up for a 5 minute slot at the door to bring your act onstage.

8PM, 2491 Summit St., Columbus OH

Suggested donation $5

Friday, 12/22

Jingle Jam Skate

This event is clearly marketed towards children, but I love ice skating, and I love glow sticks. Plus – it’s early! Skate to some holiday tunes in the early evening, with plenty of time to catch a later event.

7pm, Skate Zone 71

$8 (this includes skate rental *and* a glowstick!)

Saturday, 12/23

Nina West Christmas Pageant

This Saturday, local drag superstar Nina West will present her “sassiest, singiest series ever” at the Gateway. The event begins with a mixer, and is followed by a sing-along program featuring West’s comedy and performances by the Columbus Gay Men’s Chorus.

4:30pm mixer, 6pm show, Gateway Film Center

$20, including a $5 donation to Kaleidoscope Youth Center

Sunday, 12/24

Christmas Eve Karaoke

Honestly…who could miss this? Excess Karaoke is hosting their weekly Sunday karaoke at Ace of Cups (that means you get to perform on a real stage!) immediately after the 9th annual “gathering of people not celebrating xmas.” Ugly sweaters are optional.

10pm – 2am, Ace of Cups

FREE 21+

Monday, 12/25

Pink Floyd The Wall (1982) in 35mm

Well, my Gateway-employee roommate isn’t happy the film center is open on Christmas, but you might be! Check out their showing of Roger Waters’ 1982 film The Wall, showing in its original 35mm.

9:30pm, Gateway Film Center

$12

Tuesday, 12/26

Jazz Jam

If you’re wiped out from the holiday festivities, recharge at Park Street Tavern’s Tuesday Jazz Jam, which features both their own house band and rotating local musicians.

8:30pm Park Street Tavern

FREE, 21+

Wednesday, 12/27

Sad Boyz “Sad Years Eve”

Dance to pop punk, emo, hardcore and alternative all night long at Skully’s to ring in the new year. If you’d like to get the night started early, head to Bodega from 6pm-9pm; $1 of every PBR purchased will be donated to mental health advocacy and suicide prevention organizations.

Skully’s Music Diner

FREE before 10pm, $5 after 10pm, 21+

Thursday, 12/28

Co-release show with Maza Blaska and Sweet Teeth

 

Local bands Maza Blaska and Sweet Teeth are both celebrating new releases on Thursday night at Ace of Cups. They’ll be joined by another Columbus favorite, Corbezzolo.

8pm, Ace of Cups

$5, 18+