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lead singer is addicted to karaoke...
- Thread starter powderfinger
- Start date
So cousin lawyered up over the weekend, and today he had a paternity test which proves that he is not the father of the 22 year old legless manchild. Cousin wishes to go out tonight to karaoke to celebrate in style... karaoke of course.
It's been a long, grueling weekend, and Sat. night was so stressful for him. We went out to a roadhouse on the outskirts of town. They did not have karaoke there, but instead a live band, which played behind chickenwire. No one was having karaoke in town, and cousin agreed to go here to the roadhouse, because a friend of ours was going.
The band looked like a pack of Hells Angels, and played like the devil. Their set included "Long Tall Sally" (Molly Hatchett version), On the Hunt (Skynyrd), The Legend of Wooley Swamp (Charlie Daniels), Long Haired Country Boy (Charlie Daniels), and Family Tradition (Hank, Jr.). They were just your standard roadhouse cover band.... tattoos, leather vests, white beards, skullets, bandanas. Behind the stage was a rebel flag, and on the tip jar was a sticker that read, "The South will Rise Again".
During the break, cousin went up onstage, and started admiring the guitars and basses, which were all up on stands. There were of course 3 guitars (any good roadhouse band worth their salt has at least 3), and a bass. There was a Fender telecaster, and 2 Gibsons, and the bass looked like a 60s P Bass. Also, they had a couple of back up guitars on the stands as well. So in total, Id say there was a row of about 10 guitars/basses. The roadie came up and told him to get offstage before he ends up knocking something over. Cousin told him that no one talks to him that way because he is a professional singer, and that he would mop the floor with the current singer if they let him perform. The roadie went over and talked to the singer/guitarist, who looked remarkably like Alan Woody from Government Mule (RIP). I could see the roadie point at cousin, and then the singer dude laughed and slapped his leg.
The roadie came and told cousin he could do one song. Cousin asked could he use their mic/PA/. He said, yes, but that he had to use his own "ax". Cousin went out to the car, and set up his karaoke machine (he got a new one that morning), and hooked it up to the PA.
He then began singing, "Young Girl" by Gary Puckett and the Union Gap. Everyone in the bar began booing loudly. The Alan Woody guy turned around, and I heard him ask the roadie, "what the **** is he doing up there!!!". Thankfully the stage had chickenwire. Bottles and ashtrays were getting thrown at the stage by angry rednecks.
During the instrumental part, cousin got on the mic, and told the crowd to "stand down before there is trouble". At that, the roadie, and the rest of the band went up onstage. Cousin knew he was in trouble. He leaped off the wooden stool in front of the mic, kicked it over, and went to run out the backdoor which was behind the drums. He set off a chain reaction though. The stool fell into the bass, which fell into the Gibson, which ended up knocking all 10 guitars over.
They chased cousin out the backdoor. As they did this, I made my own getaway. I got in the pick up truck, and slowed down just enough for cousin to jump in the back. This was where the dirt road turns to pavement by the alligator pond. Thank goodness no gators were out.
Once we were headed back into town, cousin asked me, "when are we going to jam again, that felt good".
It's been a long, grueling weekend, and Sat. night was so stressful for him. We went out to a roadhouse on the outskirts of town. They did not have karaoke there, but instead a live band, which played behind chickenwire. No one was having karaoke in town, and cousin agreed to go here to the roadhouse, because a friend of ours was going.
The band looked like a pack of Hells Angels, and played like the devil. Their set included "Long Tall Sally" (Molly Hatchett version), On the Hunt (Skynyrd), The Legend of Wooley Swamp (Charlie Daniels), Long Haired Country Boy (Charlie Daniels), and Family Tradition (Hank, Jr.). They were just your standard roadhouse cover band.... tattoos, leather vests, white beards, skullets, bandanas. Behind the stage was a rebel flag, and on the tip jar was a sticker that read, "The South will Rise Again".
During the break, cousin went up onstage, and started admiring the guitars and basses, which were all up on stands. There were of course 3 guitars (any good roadhouse band worth their salt has at least 3), and a bass. There was a Fender telecaster, and 2 Gibsons, and the bass looked like a 60s P Bass. Also, they had a couple of back up guitars on the stands as well. So in total, Id say there was a row of about 10 guitars/basses. The roadie came up and told him to get offstage before he ends up knocking something over. Cousin told him that no one talks to him that way because he is a professional singer, and that he would mop the floor with the current singer if they let him perform. The roadie went over and talked to the singer/guitarist, who looked remarkably like Alan Woody from Government Mule (RIP). I could see the roadie point at cousin, and then the singer dude laughed and slapped his leg.
The roadie came and told cousin he could do one song. Cousin asked could he use their mic/PA/. He said, yes, but that he had to use his own "ax". Cousin went out to the car, and set up his karaoke machine (he got a new one that morning), and hooked it up to the PA.
He then began singing, "Young Girl" by Gary Puckett and the Union Gap. Everyone in the bar began booing loudly. The Alan Woody guy turned around, and I heard him ask the roadie, "what the **** is he doing up there!!!". Thankfully the stage had chickenwire. Bottles and ashtrays were getting thrown at the stage by angry rednecks.
During the instrumental part, cousin got on the mic, and told the crowd to "stand down before there is trouble". At that, the roadie, and the rest of the band went up onstage. Cousin knew he was in trouble. He leaped off the wooden stool in front of the mic, kicked it over, and went to run out the backdoor which was behind the drums. He set off a chain reaction though. The stool fell into the bass, which fell into the Gibson, which ended up knocking all 10 guitars over.
They chased cousin out the backdoor. As they did this, I made my own getaway. I got in the pick up truck, and slowed down just enough for cousin to jump in the back. This was where the dirt road turns to pavement by the alligator pond. Thank goodness no gators were out.
Once we were headed back into town, cousin asked me, "when are we going to jam again, that felt good".
Why not try taking him to a jazz lounge? (Apologies if you already have. I have lost touch with this thread and need to catch up!) I've been to some venues where the snooty attitude in the air is palpable the minute you step through the door. I'm sure he could offend everyone there inside of 10 minutes!
True story: a friend of mine is a world renowned gypsy jazz guitarist. Some years back, my late husband, John, and I, along with about ten friends, went to see our guitarist friend play a famous jazz club here in Toronto. At the end of each piece, the rest of the audience would provide their oh-so-polite applause (although it was quite enthusiastic applause, to be fair), as if they were oh-so-genteel. Our gang? Hooting, hollering, whistling, banging beer bottles on the table, etc. If looks could kill, the other patrons would have turned us into little piles of ashes in seconds! The glares we got were almost mesmerizing in their level of disgust. That was all the encouragement John needed. By the end of our friend's set, he was dancing like a wild man, making flashing motions at various audience members with his long coat. I was afraid he was going to moon them all at one point! Our friend loved it, thank god. A little food for thought, should you ever decide to take your cousin to a place like that. Oh, and I like Jive's idea of introducing a female character to your cousin's saga through life!
I've found that serious "jazz devotees" do tend to have a elitist attitude, though it's the more the fans and less the musicians.
About fiive years ago, my duo was invited to play at the Tamworth Music Festival (the Aussie equivalent to Nashville). Although we're not a country act, those county guys treated us very well (the musos and the audiences), and we got many invites to play with some very well known country acts. Sadly, Rock musos are nowhere near as welcoming to bands from other genres.
Good musicians should appreciate other good musicians, no matter what style of music they play.
So we went to karaoke on New Years, and cousin had a new girl with him. He wanted to make a great impression, so he took me into the bathroom. He blew his pitch whistle, and then began to sing scales. He wanted me to make sure he was in key. And he was. He told me he was going to sing Baker St. by Gerry Rafferty. I told him it was a great choice. Cousin told me he had a special prop for the "performance". So anyhow, cousin tipped the KJ 100 bucks so that he would be the first singer of the New Year. So right as the Times Square ball dropped, Baker St. came on, and cousin began singing it, and very well. His date was very impressed, as she was a huge Gerry Rafferty fan (she said she knew all of hit hits).
When the sax solo began, cousin reached into a bag behind the stage, and pulled out of plastic, toy saxaphone. He began blowing into it as if he were playing the sax solo. His date began slouching down in her seat. She told me that people are likely to believe that cousin has mentally feeble, and that would be a bad reflection on her. I agreed.
That was pretty much the worst thing he did all night, so it was a blessing in a way. However...
... oh however...
I am sitting at the bar, and a guy come up to me, and asks me, "are you powderfinger from TB?". I asked him, "why". He told me that he is subscribed to this thread, and has been since 2011, and that the guy onstage just had to be the guy from this thread. I told him, "yes". He told me his screen-name, but he asked that I not disclose it, simply because he was embarassed to have been at a karaoke bar on New Years Eve. Pretty cool, huh.
When the sax solo began, cousin reached into a bag behind the stage, and pulled out of plastic, toy saxaphone. He began blowing into it as if he were playing the sax solo. His date began slouching down in her seat. She told me that people are likely to believe that cousin has mentally feeble, and that would be a bad reflection on her. I agreed.
That was pretty much the worst thing he did all night, so it was a blessing in a way. However...
... oh however...
I am sitting at the bar, and a guy come up to me, and asks me, "are you powderfinger from TB?". I asked him, "why". He told me that he is subscribed to this thread, and has been since 2011, and that the guy onstage just had to be the guy from this thread. I told him, "yes". He told me his screen-name, but he asked that I not disclose it, simply because he was embarassed to have been at a karaoke bar on New Years Eve. Pretty cool, huh.
Yep. We abbriate everything here. A carpenter is a "chippy", an electrician is a "sparky", and paramedic is an "ambo", and a musician is "muso".
So last night was a wild ride on the local karaoke circuit. No fights, no outburtsts, etc. Just a bit of... let's say... odd happenings.
We went to a karaoke bar which caters mainly to the 50 and up crowd (you ought to see these cats go when they get drunk). Some young folk go there to, but mainly for the novelty.
Cousin told me that he wanted to commemorate the day the music died, because the anniversary of that was Jan. 3rd 1959. I told him it was Feb. 3rd, 1959, but he would not listen, and he wouldn't even look it up on his smart phone. His idea was to do back to back to back Holly/Valens/Bopper sets with him, me, and our cousin Chuck. Each time we would get up, we'd do a different Holly/Valens/Bopper song. Chuck was supposed to be the Bopper, and told cousin there would be a problem because Chantilly Lace was the only Bopper song the KJ had. Cousin, enraged, told him to "SING IT DAMMIT, SING IT ALL NIGHT LONG IF YOU HAVE TO".
We cousin tipped the KJ 100 bucks to make sure that the 3 of us would be able to sing back to back to back, all night.
First go round cousin did Peggy Sue, I did LaBamba, and Chuck did Chantilly Lace. All 5 people in the bar loved it...
Second go round cousin did That'll Be the Day, I did Donna, and Chuck did Chantilly Lace. This time, all 2 people on the bar loved it.
Last go round, cousin did Rave On, I did Cmon Lets Go, and Chuck did Chantilly Lace. This time, the bartender told us to leave.
So when we got outside, it was snowing, and it was only 9 45 PM. Cousin demanded that we go to another bar and do the Holly/Valens, Bopper set. I told him its snowing and we should go home. Cousin then said, Ill call up Bruce, and get him to be our driver (Bruce has an old limo). I told him that we cant all fit in the limo (we had a couple other friends with us). Cousin then suggested a coin toss. I told him he was out of his mind, and got in my car and went home. Thankfully, no one else went.
We went to a karaoke bar which caters mainly to the 50 and up crowd (you ought to see these cats go when they get drunk). Some young folk go there to, but mainly for the novelty.
Cousin told me that he wanted to commemorate the day the music died, because the anniversary of that was Jan. 3rd 1959. I told him it was Feb. 3rd, 1959, but he would not listen, and he wouldn't even look it up on his smart phone. His idea was to do back to back to back Holly/Valens/Bopper sets with him, me, and our cousin Chuck. Each time we would get up, we'd do a different Holly/Valens/Bopper song. Chuck was supposed to be the Bopper, and told cousin there would be a problem because Chantilly Lace was the only Bopper song the KJ had. Cousin, enraged, told him to "SING IT DAMMIT, SING IT ALL NIGHT LONG IF YOU HAVE TO".
We cousin tipped the KJ 100 bucks to make sure that the 3 of us would be able to sing back to back to back, all night.
First go round cousin did Peggy Sue, I did LaBamba, and Chuck did Chantilly Lace. All 5 people in the bar loved it...
Second go round cousin did That'll Be the Day, I did Donna, and Chuck did Chantilly Lace. This time, all 2 people on the bar loved it.
Last go round, cousin did Rave On, I did Cmon Lets Go, and Chuck did Chantilly Lace. This time, the bartender told us to leave.
So when we got outside, it was snowing, and it was only 9 45 PM. Cousin demanded that we go to another bar and do the Holly/Valens, Bopper set. I told him its snowing and we should go home. Cousin then said, Ill call up Bruce, and get him to be our driver (Bruce has an old limo). I told him that we cant all fit in the limo (we had a couple other friends with us). Cousin then suggested a coin toss. I told him he was out of his mind, and got in my car and went home. Thankfully, no one else went.
I think the band is finally over. Cousin says he no longer has time to jam with us because he got a night job as a KJ. It's at the Mexican place on the outskirts of town, which has karaoke 5 nights a week. So last night we went to support him. He had about 20 people there. It is usually customary for the KJ to kick off the night, and sing songs when patrons arent wanting to sing. Cousin sang 5 songs in a row before he let the first patron up. When he finally let the first person up, the song was "Pretty Woman" by Roy Orbison. Once the guy began singing it, cousin turned the music off, and told the guy, "on second thought... you're done for the night.. you dont come into MY bar and sing MY song... get off my stage". The guy looked at cousin, and said, "what?". Cousin replied, "you ain't deaf, brass tax... get the hell off of my stage". The guy and all 19 people with him then left. Cousin then sent me a text from the KJ booth, and I quote "thank god I got the place to myself again". He then sang a couple of more songs. The only person left by 10 PM and the Mexican wait staff. Cousin went up to each one of them asking, "how was I... how was I... did I sound good?". They just smiled at him and spoke Spanish amongst themselves. I think I heard them call cousin a name. Luckily he isnt bilingual.
So, I'm waiting for the story where the cousin turns out to be a giant crustacean from the Paleolithic Era who needs tree fiddy to get his karaoke machine fixed.
I dunno about all that! lol
Probably the oddest thing he does is with his ouija board. He claims to speak to Buddy Holly every evening before he goes to bed. I dont know why Buddy Holly, but its the only spirit who will talk to him. Buddy must think cousin is funny.
Your cousin's lucky he doesn't live around here, or he'd have had 7 different types of crap kicked out of him long ago. But hey, it's a good yarn - I await the next instalment.
So at lunch break I went to cousins to pay him a visit. No one came to the door, but his Monte Carlo was outside in the driveway. I went ahead and let myself in. I saw a bottle of Boones Farm (emptied of course) sitting by his easy chair. I went upstairs, as no one was downstairs. I looked into his room, no one was there. I then saw a light on the in the bathroom and the door was cracked.
I knocked, and heard a faint voice, "come in".
I entered, and he was sitting on the commode with his pants and boxers around his ankles, and no shirt on. He was sitting there with another bottle of Boones Farm. He had a sadistic look on his face (he reminded me of Private Pyle on Full Metal Jacket here). He then stood up, balls out and pulled his pants up. He then went to sit in the full bath tub.
I asked him what the hell he was doing. He told me that he hates his new karaoke job bc other people get to sing all the time. I told him thats what a KJ does... faciliaites other singers. He told me that was no good for him, and that he's going to end his life. He then took a radio (which was tuned to the oldies station) and held it up. He told me he was going to drop it in the tub and electrocute himself.
I told him he would ruin the radio, and the told me I was cold hearted for caring more about the radio. He dropped the radio and nothing happened. "Dude... you just ruined a perfectly good battery operated radio", I said to him. He stood up, wet jeans and all, and lunged after me. He fell and hit his head on the sink, and I had to take him to the ER.
He is home resting now. More later.
I knocked, and heard a faint voice, "come in".
I entered, and he was sitting on the commode with his pants and boxers around his ankles, and no shirt on. He was sitting there with another bottle of Boones Farm. He had a sadistic look on his face (he reminded me of Private Pyle on Full Metal Jacket here). He then stood up, balls out and pulled his pants up. He then went to sit in the full bath tub.
I asked him what the hell he was doing. He told me that he hates his new karaoke job bc other people get to sing all the time. I told him thats what a KJ does... faciliaites other singers. He told me that was no good for him, and that he's going to end his life. He then took a radio (which was tuned to the oldies station) and held it up. He told me he was going to drop it in the tub and electrocute himself.
I told him he would ruin the radio, and the told me I was cold hearted for caring more about the radio. He dropped the radio and nothing happened. "Dude... you just ruined a perfectly good battery operated radio", I said to him. He stood up, wet jeans and all, and lunged after me. He fell and hit his head on the sink, and I had to take him to the ER.
He is home resting now. More later.
Powder, I think your cous needs some serious mental help. I mean the guy just tried to kill himself with a couple D cell batteries. You may not have a best cousin if this keeps up. One cold shower with his karaoke machine and it's ovep PF.
Why didn't the hospital 5150 him? Did you not mention the vain suicide attempt?
Why didn't the hospital 5150 him? Did you not mention the vain suicide attempt?
I did mention his vain attempt. The mental health professional came to speak to me. He told me that cousin knew the battery operated radio would not cause death, and that cousin is screaming out for attention. I agreed. The mental health professional then asked me, "you know, your cousin looks familiar... does he do karaoke down at the burger joint?". We both looked at each other and laughed. The mental health professional then whispered to me, "that boy aint right".
