Dear Rocka readers,
11/25/2023
As I sit in Union Station, I am trying to remember a single song played at the Redhead Piano Bar last night — a dimly lit oasis of auburn warmth that rivaled the midwest winter night. My dad decided he’d marry my mom there years ago, and it felt significant to be there.
For an hour, I stood near the piano behind a woman with a fantastic blowout and blue smokey-eye makeup. Due to a few beers and the magic of my antidepressant, I can’t remember much other than the fact that I was there, I sung, and I was happy.
My local dive bar is nothing like the class of Redhead. They serve drinks with names like “sour gummy bear” and karaoke by college students is the evening’s main event. But you go, you scream “Colt 45” with the bartender whose name lacks vital consonants and you pay your tab that rarely exceeds $30. You walk half a mile home, accompanied by boys who’d chose any one of their fraternity brothers over you (both romantically and in a dangerous situation) and you send one mildly embarrassing text you probably should’ve sent three weeks ago. This is the beauty of a rural college town’s bar scene on a Wednesday night.
Karaoke reveals a lot about folks. You watch the performance of it all and how different it is for everyone. How for some people, it’s a time to showcase their hidden talent or recall glory days of high school theatre productions. For others, it’s a chance to rap a song from start to finish despite failing classes whose main challenge is memorization. For locals, it’s the highlight of their week — their chance to shine for a few moments under the LED lights. Everyone’s there for a reason, whether they know it or not.
My favorite local wears huge, bad jewelry that almost looks attached to his sweaters and sings “Ain’t No Rest For the Wicked” by Cage the Elephant every week. This is shortly followed by “Stressed Out” by Twenty One Pilots. He doesn’t move much. He closes his eyes and just rocks back and forth in a staggered stance. He looks happy when he does it, though, and people’s reactions say a lot.
Do you possess empathy? Are you able to be a team player? Do you attempt to ease the pain of others by pretending to be enthused? Are you tone deaf? What’s your go-to song choice? Can you read a room? These are the truths about each other that we need to know…
It’s not that serious, but often in the most seemingly trivial moments of life, who we are becomes clear. Even that version of us shape-shifts within the hour. But man do I love bars. I love seeing what songs people queue on the jukebox and how often they’re so ill-paired with the clientele. I love watching groups of people struggle to share two microphones, panic lacing their voices as they realize they only know the chorus of the chosen song. I love knowing that it will end soon: even if it’s good, especially if its bad. In a handful of hours, daylight will try to seep through the grey canopy of clouds and we get up to start our Thursdays. The weekly karaoke night is complete.
The featured image is me and Jillian singing one of 2 American standards: “Valerie” by Amy Winehouse or “Hot n Cold” by Katy Perry.
This month’s mix, affectionately titled “seasonal affective disorder” is holiday music. Shocker. But this is holiday music when you’re peeved with the same radio songs. I’ve got the lovely “Snow in Montana” from Michigander/ Gabrielle Grace/ moony/ Abby Holiday. Classics from Vince Guaraldi, Boby Dylan, and Ella Fitzgerald. And my highlight track is “01 Have You Seen It in the Snow?” by The Magnetic Fields. It helps me romanticize the dingier parts of winter.
See you all in 2024. Happy holidays!
Rocka out,
Ally