Let's Keyboard Karaoke!

Like Druids drawn to a moonlit glade, a number of folks convened at a tiny tiki bar last night to worship one of the greatest forces in the universe: music.

"Who are these people?" I briefly wondered, only to realize that I'm one of these people.

Despite sending out invitations to fellow die-hard karaoke aficionados, none of them made it out. Understandable, since late-night outings on a Monday are tough, so I found myself alone in a roomful of strangers (except, of course, for the talented pianist and ringleader, Joe McGinty).

At first I wished that I had braver/less-responsible/unemployed friends, or at least a sidekick with whom I could converse. Heck, in those first desperate and awkward minutes, I'd gladly have been the sidekick, just so I wouldn't feel the weirdness of being by myself.

But it reminded me of my early days in the city when I'd go out on my own and do all sorts of interesting things all the time (seeing underground plays or burlesque shows or secret magician stuff). It was a strange, lonely time, but also an interesting one, and it might do me good to have more solo adventures.

(Who knows, maybe when the weather isn't so unbearably hot I'll lug my accordion down to the Irish pub and join one of those old-timey jam sessions. I do love old-timey anything.)

The night took on a surreal haze though, possibly fueled by booze, but I got the distinct feeling that everyone else was some (in)famous indie musician. Joe runs in some interesting circles, so this could very well be true. But, since I know nothing about music nowadays, I couldn't identify anyone for sure.

Who were all these Australians? Is some band on tour in NYC right now? And this Asian-looking guy with the bushy hair who introduced me to the song "Stop Your Sobbing"? What about this apple-cheeked gentleman who sang Roy Orbison's "Crying" so perfectly? His voice was so good, he's gotta be famous.

The lure of piano karaoke brought out such an unlikely and talented group, and I'm sure a hipster-in-the-know would have given their prized neckerchiefs to have been in their presence, but for me, I only had awe for the music.

And there was a moment of perfect comfort and ease as I stood there, the whole room was singing "Daydream Believer," and I realized, "This is what my personal Heaven is like. Just a bunch of people singing a song in a room and enjoying themselves. And if this isn't nice, what is?"