Don't Stop Believin'

October 20, 2008
What some condemn as an aesthetic crime is actually “the most direct form of music appreciation that now exists,” contends this indulgent tribute to a dubious art form. Entertainment journalist and karaoke connoisseur Raftery celebrates the medium as both a democratization of our overprofessionalized entertainment culture and a kind of therapy that transforms shamed self-consciousness into brazen, talentless self-acceptance. He traces the industry's history from its early struggles to cajole club goers into making spectacles of themselves to its rise as mockery-proof nightlife mainstay. Delving into the stringent engineering of instrumental backup tapes, he explains why Bobby Brown's “On Our Own” (from Ghostbusters II
) is a greater karaoke song than Dylan's “Like a Rolling Stone.” Intertwined in his world tour of karaoke bars is a personal saga of singing badly for drunken audiences from Manhattan to Tokyo, a habit that eased the forming and breakup of relationships and prodded him into a blissful state of “not caring about how I look or sound.” Raftery vividly evokes the boozy, semimelodic pathos that makes karaoke a profound group-bonding rite, while acknowledging—nay, toasting—its tackiness. The result is an entertaining, exuberant homage that's anything but off-key.