And so to Edition 8, where Connah Roberts takes on the role of Guardian columnist Adrian Chiles for a delve into the joys of karaoke
Karaoke Bar, Wuhan
This is a different piece this week. I am taking on Adrian Chiles. I ran out of time working and researching Carl Scmitt and the concept of the political, in which there must be a friend-enemy distinction for anything to be political. In order to stand for something you have to stand against something. He also had another term, the ‘state of exception’ in which a sovereign can use legislative powers in order to change the law when faced with peril. It has happened this week in football with Johnson threatening a ‘legislative bomb’ if the European Super League went ahead. There are, no doubt, going to be so many takes on how this represents the power of the people if only we all unite against something. The main layers of this however means what has been saved is simply an economic plateau right before monopolization. That’s not to take away the fact that actually the people did come together to stop the proposed new league. The fans, as such, are those who would go and watch their team regardless who they are playing against or where. I think we can view karaoke in a similar vein.
There are a few places I have done karaoke. It’s odd because like most I can’t sing. Rose and Crown; The Albany (a classic spot, Pete would often set up the machine even if there were only the four regulars in); Butlins (Euro 96, Three Lions, Sir Keith); Chinatown, Manchester; The Algarve; The Croc; The working club in Woolton Village; The Conny Club in Old Swan; somewhere in Dublin once; maybe even The George, Green Lane (sadly no longer with us). I have long admired various karaoke institutions too. The Millstone in Manchester; Smokie Mo’s, Liverpool; and more recently The Duke of Wellington in Haggerston. Each place has a depth of history and authenticity to it. Much like how people have started to describe what football clubs mean to them, their place within civic life. Smokie Mo’s is probably the odd one out of the three. It’s the most tourist friendly but there is an atmosphere within the space that we are here to provide a show, collectively. The Millstone, on the other hand, could well be the greatest karaoke spot within the whole of the UK. It’s not even karaoke and I think that is what the key to its success is. It’s singing.
There was a time when singing was at its peak. Stars in Their Eyes is a true icon of Saturday night TV. People would gather round in their millions to watch other people imitate singers, from their voice to their dress, as entertainment. On it, participants would often state what they would sing and refer to it differently than a karaoke performance. Mick Braithwaite here even states how he was doing Karaoke 6 times a week at one point before going on the show. Imitating Liam Gallagher as an avenue to maybe change his circumstances. Is it any wonder that Karaoke arrived in the post-modern world when mass culture starts to fall in on itself? A sense of self continually being eroded and a quest for individualism being too overwhelming, creating spaces where we all pretend to be someone else for 4 minutes. It has recently been announced that Stars in Their Eyes is set to return with the metaphysical character that is Olly Murs hosting.
Taking the theory of friend-enemy, what we had were six owners against the “football” world. Once the six owners conceded defeat, were destroyed or removed, the political vanishes. There isn’t any of this with karaoke. There is no us versus them in The Millstone. Arguably the biggest us versus them is on who is allowed in and out (one of the only few traditional pubs to have bouncers on the door when open before 3pm). Here, like a state, is the border control. Here is who grants citizenship in order to take part in the democratic territory of who is putting their name down to sing Tom Jones. It is interesting to correlate the political of a pub with the political of a country. What is allowed, what isn’t. Schmitt thought there was more to learn from a state about who is not allowed citizenship or what procedures individuals need to go through in order to be granted citizenship. Remember citizenship is being part of the country, in Schmitt’s case, having the right to vote. Look at the UK today: English tests and documents to prove every breath on this planet has been authorized somewhere are needed. From a boozer's point of view, what marks the enemy? Trainers, too many fellas, Hugo Boss. In saying that, much like countries, arguably the best are ones in which the political is removed. There is no friend/enemy. Only we.
Each week we will share some tracks that the contributers to Laughing Stock currently have on heavy rotation. You can follow the rolling playlist on Apple or Spotify.
ICYMI: More from Laughing Stock
Edition 7 - @dickiewalker on nihilism in music
Edition 6 - @connahr on producers of imagination
Edition 5 - @samhartford on Spotify’s all seeing eye
Edition 4 - @dickiewalker on how amazing organ music is
Edtion 3 - @williampalmer on Music as Muscle Memory
Edition 2 - @connahr on Arctic Monkeys and Quantitative Easing
Edition 1 - @dickiewalker on Dua Lipa and the new pop vanguard
If you are interested in contributing to future editions of Laughing Stock, please DM either @dickiewalker or @connahr