Back in my early twenties in Dallas, I used to hit the same dive-ish karaoke bar on Thursday nights, and close the place down.
I’d sing Snoop Dogg and Mary J. Blige, and slurp double-vodka and Red Bulls. Eventually, as the years went on, I cut back on the vodka and stopped staying out so late on school nights. (And came to regard Red Bull as the devil.) But anytime friends invited me out to sing, I almost always said yes.
On Friday, friends invited Crayton and I to a karaoke bar called Amapola. I’d been to a Mexican karaoke bar once before in Guanajuato, but that place was not like Amapola.
Amapola was actually two bars in one — a cabaret ballroom with velvet furniture and martinis on one side, and a casual piano/karaoke bar on the other. A velvet rope blocked the entrance out front, along with a man with a clipboard. “Good evening, under what name?” he asked us.
Eventually, after walking through a chandelier-accented foyer with marble floors, we made it into the piano bar. It was like the House of Blues in there: black-painted, cavernous, with flashing lights and a live band. Our group had just ordered a bottle of vodka when we arrived. Our server, a man in a tuxedo, poured all the drinks.
I was glad I dressed up, because some of the people here looked like they were headed for the club. (Wait… was this the club?) Guys wore distressed jeans and tight T-shirts; a few of the girls had on skinny jeans and and SJP heels. Most of these people eventually ended up onstage, singing their hearts out in Spanish to live back-up music. I remained at the table, sipping my vodka tonic.
I’d walked in there thinking I would sing something, but a flip through the songbook changed my mind. The English section consisted of Madonna, Four Non Blondes, Aerosmith, AC/DC and a few others. They had Selena — but in front Mexico City fresa-ish crowd, with a live band, was I really going to sing “Como la Flor”? I needed something upbeat. Something that’d get people singing. Something like K-Paz de la Sierra’s “Mi Credo,” which a guy in a Dolce-and-Gabbana belt sang with his distressed-jeaned partner.
Even though I didn’t end up singing, it was highly entertaining to sit in the audience and watch. A woman celebrating her 30th birthday swayed on stage with her friends; a woman from our group sang a lovely ballad. The house band performed during the breaks, and the lead singers were pretty good. I kept asking one of the Mexico natives at our table: “What period is this song from? The 80’s? The 90’s?”
I’d love to do karaoke again, at a place that’s a bit more casual. (I’m assuming they exist here.) Gotta study up and find my go-to Spanish language song though. Hombres G? (Too played out?) Or maybe, with a girlfriend, duet-style… Antes Muerta Que Sencilla? I’m open to suggestions, if you’ve got any.