Practice

For many years, my friends and I have been attending karaoke nights around the city, enjoying each other's company and doing something that we like to do: sing.

We've actually become rather serious about it. Some friends have actually purchased home karaoke equipment to practice for when we meet at a club, bar, or restaurant. We've also downloaded karaoke apps, which not only let us try out a song before we hit the stage but also let us know if the song is generally available on singing platforms.

When I come up with a song that I want to sing, I'll check to see if one of the largest karaoke systems, KaraFun, has the song. I usually pick a song with which I'm already familiar, so I only need to make sure that I have the lyrics down solidly.

Occasionally, I'll pick a song that I've heard of but may not be overly familiar with the lyrics, or may not even know the words at all. In that case, I'll listen to the song several times, just taking in the vocalists tone, getting the rhythm, and of course, learning the lyrics.

I'll find a karaoke version of the song on YouTube and practice in my living room or bedroom.

But I find that there's a difference between me practicing a song at home and actually singing it on a karaoke night, in front of a live audience. It's like I'm two different singers.

At home, I tend to hold back. I rarely sing at full volume, especially when DW isn't also practicing in the same room (we alternate) or any time that Kid 1 is home. And because I hold back, I find that my voice will crack or I'll run out of air.

Plus, belting it out in our family room or bedroom makes it sound like I'm screaming.

When this happens, too often, I end up deciding that I can't sing the song and therefore won't perform it at a karaoke night.

I need a place where I can practice that has the space for me to belt it out but has as few people around to hear it, lest I offend their ears.

Last month, I met up with a longtime buddy for drinks, after work. We ended up in Bells Corners, at Conspiracy Theory Brewing Company.

I reviewed Conspiracy Theory's beer, several years ago, back when owner, Paul Card, was brewing out of his garage, in Barrhaven. Since then, I hadn't had the opportunity to visit his full-sized brew pub, especially when the pandemic shut everything down. Because my buddy, Perry, hadn't been to this brewery, we thought the visit was long overdue.

Little did we know that Conspiracy Theory runs a karaoke night every Thursday, the day that we just happened to be there.

Paul was there and I re-introduced myself, reminded him of the review I had written, and introduced him to Perry, who used to own his own brewery, Scotch-Irish Brewing Company, many years ago. Paul and Perry had a lot in common, starting from home brewers to successful brewmasters.

Perry also has a great singing voice and has come out for karaoke nights several times. But on this evening, he wasn't in the mood to share his vocals.

It was a very quiet night at Conspiracy Theory. There were only two other tables that were occupied in the spacious brew pub, and yet both tables had participants for karaoke. I thought it was a great opportunity to practice a new song.

A few months earlier, at a karaoke night in Gatineau, I had requested this song (Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who) but the KJ wasn't paying attention, and told me that I was up after the current singer, who just happened to be singing the exact same song. I had to make a last-minute change and ended up not singing this song.

I was a bit disappointed because I wasn't 100-percent sure that I had the full range for the song. When I had practiced it at home, I held back a bit and my voice cracked, but I was sure that I could get the words out if I used my full volume in a karaoke setting.

Fortunately, I was able to sing it at Conspiracy Theory. And Perry confirmed that it was within my range.

Starting this year, I made the decision to visit Conspiracy Theory, on my own, to practice new songs. I'll go in, have a glass or two of beer, sing a song (or two, if the place is quiet), and leave.

Last Thursday—the first karaoke night at Conspiracy Theory for 2025—I made the 15-minute drive out to Bells Corners and was a bit surprised to see several cars in their parking lot. On my first visit, with Perry, there was only one other car in the lot when I had arrived.

When I walked through the doors, I saw a banner in the foyer that read Happy Retirement! Looking into the beer hall, I saw lots of suits and dresses. A table had been set up with a cake, already cut into and mostly devoured. Looking toward the bar, many seats were taken. The KJ was at the back of the hall, looking at his computer screen, though no one was singing.

"Nope," I said aloud but to myself. I pivoted 180 degrees, got in my car, and drove home.

"Next week," I said, this time in my head. "I'll try again next week."

Yesterday, while checking out their Web site, I discovered that Conspiracy Theory has moved their karaoke nights to Fridays, starting today. I can't go today because it's DW's birthday and I'm all about celebrating it with her.

Next week. I'll try again next week.

If next Friday is successful, will I use this brew pub on a weekly basis to practice songs? I think so. Though I already have confidence to get up in front of a microphone and sing to strangers (and my dear friends), I don't always have confidence that I can pull off the song that I choose. This venue can help me determine that.

The next karaoke night that I'm attending—with friends, that is—is Saturday, February 8, at Stray Dog Brewing Company, in Orleans. Come on out if you want to hear some great singers (oh, and me, too).