Karaoke Bar.
One Man's Singalong
Might Be Another Man's
Cover Story in the Haunt
of the 'Beauty Girls'.
Are You
Going to Sing?
By David James
DATELINE: Friday, January 10, 2003
Xi'an, Shaanxi Province, China
Yes folks, Chinese karaoke does exist! I think I mentioned it before, but you probably didn't hear me, and besides, at the time I didn't give it the credit it deserves. The karaoke (keh-lee-o-keh in Chinese, I think) here provides a very different experience than it does in the USA.
In China, people love to sing and are pretty good at it. So the purpose of going to a karaoke bar is to showcase your talent. The singers pick songs they know and can sing along with. For the most part they are pretty good singers.
The abundance of local talent in China is a big contrast to the karaoke bars in the States. There it's a free-for-all devoted to making fun of people. Sure, every now and then someone steps up to the microphone and belts out a pretty good tune, but for the most part, it's like blood sport. The karaoke onlookers wait in ambush for the unfortunate singer. Miss a note, or botch the lyrics, and the howlers attack with derisive laughter. Pick a song by someone like Celine Dion, and the audience might riot.
Here in Xi'an, My Heart Will Go On is still one of the most popular songs on the market.
A Cozy Room among Friends.
The second big difference — this was a big one for me — is that Chinese do not sing in a huge, open room with strangers. Instead, they rent cozy individual rooms. So it's just your friends in the audience. And people clap and cheer for one another. It's almost like participating in your own personal star search.
"Our next contestant will sing and dance to My Little Buttercup, so please put your hands together and welcome David James!"
All the same, to perform even in this sheltered situation is a pressure-packed experience for someone who thinks singing in the shower is a big challenge.
But what the heck. When in China, do as the Chinese do, eh? So I wander up to the screen to pick a song. Some of my Chinese friends are scrolling through the endless list of titles, trying to find one that they think I might know. They tell me not to worry, that they already have one for me, and that it will be a surprise. So I wander back to my seat and wait. But not long.
A "Classic American Song."
I see the Bee Gees appear on screen, and I hear the opening notes of the tune that made John Travolta famous. I see a microphone appear in front of my face. My Chinese pals are chanting for me and the other American to sing what they champion as a "Classic American Song." Sure, I know the song a little bit, so I raise my voice a few notches and start blaring it out. "Well you can tell by the way I do my walk, I'm a woman's man...."
When you sing to yourself, you are sure that you're in tune. Even if you aren't, it doesn't much matter. But for some reason when you hear yourself through a microphone, and the recorded song is playing in the background, and people are actually listening to you — Well, you realize you're not quite the singer you thought you were. And the melody is always a few notches higher or lower than you remember it. So you start playing a futile game. You sing a little bit of the song, and then break away to hum along, trying to find the right pitch. Then you plunge back into the lyrics, but you're just as badly out of tune as before.
Truth be known, I can't sing Jingle Bells in tune, but I felt I had to play the part of an artist on the up and coming. I sang and hummed, and sang and hummed.... until everybody realized my quest for the right pitch was hopeless.
"How about another song?" Someone switched to The Eagles and Hotel California. I butchered it, too, but at least my little audience wasn't holding hands over ears.
More than Just a Song.
Now I'll let you in on a little secret. Karaoke in China is more than a casual singalong among friends. Let me explain.
When I stepped into the place, it was like I had lost my way and stumbled into a lounge in a Las Vegas Casino. (Actually, I've never been inside a Las Vegas Casino, but I have the movies as my reference source.) Everything was colored in gold or dark red. On the walls hung extravagant paintings of scenes from the Sistine Chapel. The ceilings were decorated with little moons and stars. There were no windows and the lighting was very dim. "Something shady is going down," I thought — an observation no doubt influenced by a cryptic comment from a friend the day before. "You're going to a karaoke bar!? Are you... uh... I mean... well, are you going to sing karaoke?"
At the time I didn't quite understand her question. It was like asking someone who orders fried noodles, "Are you going to eat noodles?" My friend clarified her comment by explaining that karaoke bars in Xi'an can sometimes be more "diverse" than those in the States. Pressed further, she said they can double as a brothel. Sure, I thought. The Chinese have a tendency to exaggerate. I didn't pay much attention to the warning. But after I entered the bar, I saw the light — as dim as it was.
It happened this way. Worn out from singing, I stepped from our private room into the hallway. Surreal. About a dozen girls in dresses were gathered outside a nearby room, ready to enter with three or four guys. I might have thought, "These guys just have a lot of friends who happen to be girls," except that these particular girls were wearing little nametags identifying them as employees of the bar. It didn't take a genius to figure out that three guys don't need a dozen waitresses.
My Chat with Jackie.
I returned to our room and asked one of the Chinese guys about it. If anybody would know about such worldly affairs, he would be the one. He's like a cross between a Chinese Hugh Hefner (minus the women) and a pimp (also minus the women).
Me: "Uh... Jackie... do you know the word prostitution?"
Jackie: "I sink so." Then, with a hushed voice: "Do you want beauty girl."
Me: "No, no, no. I was just wondering if this place might... you know... have other services."
Jackie: "Ahhhh. I see. I ask one of the waitress for you. Hold on."
Me: "No, no! I was just curious because some things seem kind of strange here."
Jackie: "You want to go another place. I know safe place we go. Wery cheap."
Me: "No, don't worry about it. Forget I asked."
Jackie: "Americans wery... do you know… un-serve-a-tive"
Me: "Yes, Jackie... sometimes we are a little conservative. How about we go sing some karaoke. OK."
The Pink Light Is the Signal.
I figure in retrospect that Jackie was surprised I even asked. He supposed we Americans must have known that much about the local culture. When you go to a karaoke bar, you also go to the haunt of the "beauty girl". For sure, prostitution is common in this part of China. Our street alone has three "beauty girl" parlors. They are little "haircut places" with pink lights. The pink light is the signal that they cut more than hair inside.
Now that I think of it, our little street in Xi'an is something of a Red Light District after the sun goes down. But that's a story for another time. For now, let's just say: "Yes, folks. Chinese karaoke does exist."
*This is the next step toward THE One World Language.
Step Thirty-Five: Your adjective sung off-key!
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