Gimme Gimme Punk Rock Karaoke

Limp, the Demonics, Punk Rock Karaoke,
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes
Paradise Lounge, May 5, 1997

I ended up missing most of Limp, but for an opening band the guys sure had a crowd. I've never seen the Paradise so full on a punk rock Monday night. The Demonics were up next, and by then I was rapidly consuming the night's special --$2 tap beers -- in an attempt to prepare for the night's impending feature, punk rock karaoke.

The waves of nostalgia were thick, and the punk rock karaoke sign-up list was beefy, offering a ton of early '80s scorchers: Black Flag's "Nervous Breakdown," Devo's "Uncontrollable Urge," the Ramones' "Sheena Is a Punk Rocker" ... the Clash, X, Circle Jerks, Stiff Little Fingers, Sex Pistols. This was gonna be fun. I signed up, toward the bottom of the list, for Minor Threat's "Minor Threat" (which I couldn't believe was actually a choice! Right on!). Now I just had to drink myself into a great enough state of belligerence so I wouldn't get cold feet. And what better way to pass the time than pounding a few and listening to some '70s-influenced hot-rod rock and headbanging heavy metal riffs? The Demonics had to play on the "lounge" stage off of the main room, so things were squished but cozy. They ripped through a tight set, playing songs off their two singles (when's the full-length?) and a few newer tunes. They ended with a cover of Cheap Tricks' "He's a Whore". Definitely one of my favorite local bands, and they kicked ass as always.

By now everyone was drunk and sweaty and ready for the highlight of the evening. The all-star-punk-rock-karoake-back-up-band was well-qualified, featuring Greg Hetson (Bad Religion, Circle Jerks), Eric Melvin (NOFX), and a drummer who I'd heard once pounded the skins for Social Distortion. The boys came prepared, but things got a little messy. Chaos ensued as soon as they took the stage. Loose lyric sheets were in a scatterable stack that was continuously pawed through and in danger of being beer-soaked. The overhead projector sheet to the right of the stage fell away, so that the giant lyrics were displayed on a dark blue curtain that made them unreadable (not that you could have read them anyway -- they were warped and jiggly to the point of hilarity), and it took a while for signed-up singers to get their asses onstage (even after their names were repeatedly screamed through the P.A.). Before each number, guitarist Greg frantically flipped through a huge three-foot tablet of paper that displayed each song's notes and structure breakdown. Because of its flimsiness, it kept falling over midsong, until someone came to its rescue. She promptly became self-appointed tablet holder for the rest of the set. Needless to say, the atmosphere was loose - even more so because of the haphazardness with which the songs were chosen. So much for trying to be organized.

Things heated up as blasts from the past were busted out, bursts of Adolescents, Wire, Bad Brains, Agent Orange, Fear, X-Ray Spex, and, of course, the Sex Pistols. People laughed, heckled, screamed, sang along, and threw beer cups. What seemed funniest to me was that almost everyone who staggered onstage to sing needed to look at a xerox of the lyrics. These were all songs that most of us old farts grew up hearing over and over. We sang along with them - on road trips, at parties, in the shower. We even screamed along word for word when we saw the bands play them live. But when you've gotta bust out all alone, in front of a crowd, things are suddenly very different. Stage fright takes over, you realize that you can't remember anything... or maybe all those years of partying really have taken a toll on your brain cells. Either way, it was comically pathetic. (I'll admit I had to sneak a peek at my song lyrics too.)

Raging along, things sadly came to an end when punk rock karaoke was cut off to allow enough time for the last band to play. Which was too bad, 'cause some disappointed signed-up people hadn't gotten to sing, and the punk-rock-karoake-back-up-band hadn't even dented their list. Hell, we could have karaoked all night. It's too bad we didn't. Me First and the Gimme Gimmes got old fast.

Another all-star gang (members of NOFX, Lagwagon, No Use for a Name, and the Fat Wreck Chords Shipping Department) Me First and the Gimme Gimmes' guys did renditions of all the crappy music my parents used to force me to listen to on road trips. (They'd pop in a John Denver 8-track, and my whole family would sing together as we drove along.) Their set included "Leaving on a Jet Plane," "Sweet Caroline," "I Am a Rock," and "Rocket Man." I found myself chuckling at first but was eventually driven out of the club, hands over my ears. I'd seen enough bands doing similar schticks in college (frat-boy, party-goofball cover bands) to last a lifetime, and couldn't take it anymore. Insanely enough, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes have something like five singles out, with a Fat Wreck Chords full-length on the way. Ahhhhhhhh, no! No!! If I wanted to hear those dumb songs, I'd go to a karaoke bar!

As I stumbled away toward home, I wondered when punk rock karaoke would return. (Apparently, they've played a few times in L.A. but that's it.) All I can say is more, more! Gimme gimme punk rock karaoke! But first I'd better bust out those old albums and brush up on my lyrics.