As per Brooklynvegan, here’s the setlist for the indie-rock karaoke event this Wednesday in Brooklyn:
OUTFIELD - Your Love PRINCE - Kiss THE WHO - My Generation KELLEY CLARKSON - Since You Been Gone STOOGES - Search and Destroy RAMONES - Blitzkrieg Bop MISFITS - Where Eagles Dare BILLY IDOL - Dancin’ With Myself AC/DC - Dirty Deeds CURE - Just Like Heaven CLASH - Rock the Casbah DAVID BOWIE AND QUEEN - Under Pressure JOY DIVISION - Transmission YEAH YEAH YEAHS - Maps SAINTS - Stranded ARETHA FRANKLIN - Respect BLONDIE - Dreaming THE BOSS - Dancin’ in the Dark THE BOSS - Born in the USA STIFF LITTLE FINGERS - Suspect Device MINOR THREAT - Minor Threat CREDENCE - Fortunate Son AMERIE - One Thing STEELY DAN - Reelin’ in the Years SANTOGOLD - LES Artistes THE KINGSMEN - Louie Louie
He is! A few days ago, while flipping through a circa-1990 issue of Spin, I found this print ad for Pioneer’s Laser Karaoke machines (I’m in the advance stages of hypernostalgia, during which I get more excited about old magazines than new magazines). Noting the resemblance to a certain star of The Andy Dick Show, I emailed Andy’s website to find out whether or not it was him; a few hours later, he called to tell me that, indeed, this ad was one of his very first paid gigs, for which he received a mere $500.
The lessons here: 1) Every celeb has a long-forgotten karaoke past; and 2) if you’ve ever sent a drunken email to Andy Dick’s website about how much you loved NewsRadio, he probably read it.
Violence is never funny. Unless, of course, it’s spurred on by a karaoke rendition of Dio’s “Holy Diver.” And committed by a drunk guy named Drinkwine.
Army Navy’s debut album is one of my top 10 favorite records of the year; Paul Scheer is one of my top 10 favorite members of Human Giant. Never did I imagine I’d get the chance to see them together at a karaoke bar.
One of the appendices in Don’t Stop Believin’ is a wishlist of 30 songs I’ve always wanted to sing at karaoke, and yet could never find. Coming in at No. 12 is Ted Leo + the Pharamacist’s “Where Have All The Rude Boys Gone?”, one of my favorite tracks from the past five years. So imagine my surprise when I saw this announcement regarding New York magazine’s upcoming indie-rock karaoke night:
Considering Leo’s well-established cover-song credentials—and Andrew WK’s ability to yell “party” over and over again—it’s probably worth camping out at Studio B the night before, so you don’t miss the sign-up sheet.
After the town-hall debate, Salter and Schmidt reunited with a dozen or so members of the traveling press corps at a karaoke bar in Nashville. It had been months since the duo had had a night out with reporters. Salter, who had sung in a band in college, was cajoled into singing a few tunes. Before long, and after a drink or two, he was into it. Under pressure from the reporters, Schmidt joined him for a chorus of Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues.” Schmidt even sang “Rocky Mountain High,” to squeals from the increasingly inebriated reporters. But then he went off and sat quietly. Schmidt looked worn out, his burly body weighed by stress and the woes of the campaign, his relentless stare dimmed by exhaustion. He ignored political questions and talked quietly about his family. Salter, on the other hand, had found his groove. Standing in the middle of the bar, dressed in his ubiquitous corduroy jacket, he bellowed “More Dylan!” until he had belted out every Bob Dylan song the bar had. Reporters sang loud, drunken backup and tried to get Salter to join them in boy-band dance moves. It was the first time anyone had seen Salter look as if he was having fun in a long time.
McCain, alas, wasn’t in attendance, meaning the Nashville crowd missed out on his hilarious Beach Boys parody.
Thanks to the overzealous digital scanners at Google, the first chapter of Don’t Stop Believin’ is now online. This chapter is more memoir-focused than the rest of the book, but it does include references to public-access puppetry, skeevy central-Pennsylvania sports bars, and Temple of the Dog’s “Hunger Strike.”
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