Karaoke Is Cheaper Than Therapy

Feelings, man. We all have ’em, and we all need to deal with ’em. We could go through the tedious task of googling a doctor, setting an appointment, remembering exactly which unpopular spin-off of our health insurance carrier we have, and talking to a stranger about our deepest secrets and insecurities for upwards of five hundred dollars a pop—OR we could realize that Frank Ocean and Cher have graciously and eloquently put our feelings to music that demands to be screamed at peak volume among friends in a dingy Koreatown karaoke bar at all hours of the night for $8.50 per person per hour.

Is there even a question which I prefer?

I take karaoke very seriously. I’m not in the school of thought that dictates performers must sing every note perfectly and on beat with minimal lyrical flubs. Karaoke is all about stage presence and selling your emotions. Do you need vengeance? Are you scared to admit you’re in love? Have you been thinking sexy thoughts all day but been too shy to speak them? Maybe you sound like a dying walrus, but that’s not the point. Do dying walruses manage to make us believe they are in pain or sad or even kind of enjoying it? Do as they do. And there’s no better place in the world to sing your heart song to a room filled with friends and acquaintances than in Koreatown, NYC.

K-town is pretty easy to ID and basically the only place worth visiting in Midtown Manhattan after seven p.m. Easily accessible from the 34th Street/Herald Square metro station, each building that lines the street is stacked floor by floor with Korean barbecue houses, eyelash extension parlors, and karaoke sanctuaries for the huddled masses.

Here’s the ideal setup for a karaoke night:


One time I went to France with Samsung to shoot a video. At the end of the week, after too many mojitos and a fireworks show on the beach, everyone was dragging their feet on what to do next. After all, we were in the south of France and the sun still hadn’t gone down at nearly ten p.m.

That was when I suggested we find a karaoke bar. There had to be one. It was the middle of their tourist season and there’s nothing tourists like more than group activities in sheisty bars. The group I went with was a little reluctant.

“I can stay for one song.”

“I can’t sing.”

“Blah blah blah, I suck.”

The protests never ended. But we followed the Google Maps instructions to a seedy Irish bar with “Don’t Stop Believin’” blaring. Perfect.

Within one hour a member of our fifteen-person-deep crew revealed it was his birthday. Shots rained from the sky. We were all in. A group of Irish tourists were digging our vibe and fell in love with me and Sasheer Zamata.

Sasheer has a KILLER singing voice. A lot of people don’t know this. So once she blew us all away with some Adele, the requests from the Irishmen started pouring in. For the final performance of the night we did one more shot and sang a duet to “I Will Always Love You.”

I lost my voice. It’s been a year and my voice is still not all the way back. The next morning I woke up with a hangover and flew to LA straightaway to VidCon. The longest flight of my life, with nothing but the memories of absolutely singing all of the most beautiful songs to a room of mostly strangers turned friends.

And isn’t that what karaoke is about? You don’t have to be good. You don’t have to know the words. All you have to do is have a little love in your heart and supportive friends to sing with.