I felt like a newbie. And, in truth, I was.
Kou's Taekwon-do is gone. And I'm not really surprised: Master Kou was about my age, if not a year or two older, and is probably enjoying a much-deserved retirement. And, apparently, no one was willing to take over the business—at least not in the Barrhaven Mall.
Walking down the familiar steps to the lower level of the mall, it was like stepping back in time. The Nepean School of Music was still open; no doubt, getting ready to close for the evening. The door to the reception area was open and friendly, young faces smiled as I passed by.
A turn to the left took me down the narrow corridor that would have taken me to the taekwon-do school, maybe 10 years ago, but instead of hearing the shouts of active black, blue, of yellow belts, without the smell of sweat and bare feet, I heard a song by Johnny Cash and a baritone voice.
It was the man who I had met at Conspiracy Theory, a couple of Fridays ago, whose name had escaped me after I first learned it that night.
It's Dave.
The other woman from that karaoke night—again, whose name I had forgotten shortly after first hearing it—was also in attendance. We re-introduced ourselves: her name is Danielle. They were sitting together with another woman, Julie, and I was invited to join them. A little later, another person, Rachel, sat with us.
Hummingbird Hall is cosy. Dimly lit, there's a full stage in one corner of the room with a drum kit, congas, and an electric keyboard. Lots of speakers flank the sides and two monitors point back at the stage. To one side of the stage, a full-sized piano had been rolled out of the way for this evening: to the other, more congas and some guitars leaned on a rack.
There are small tables with chairs that are wrapped in a black fabric. Several cushy sofas are scattered around the room. To the left side of the room, where you enter, a small bar offers drinks and snacks, including some good local craft beer.
I liked the place as soon as I entered.
It wasn't too busy when I arrived, with maybe 10 or 12 people spread across the room. I arrived about 10 minutes after the show was about to start but it was a bit delayed. Dave was apparently doing a sound check while the host of the night, Amy, was delayed by snow.
There's someone who handles a full-fledged sound board, who had helped Dave get the levels right. Amy showed up right behind me and got under way immediately.
A large-screen that shows the lyrics also displayed a QR code for KaraFun. Because I've used this system before and had created an account (Brown Knowser, of course), I came straight up. You use the app to select your song and you are immediately added to the queue. A ticker-tape banner at the top of the screen shows the next three singers, so you have plenty of advanced warning of when it's your turn.
You can also check the app on your phone to see where you are in the queue, if you're not on the board yet.
I said that I felt like a newbie, and that's because everyone in the place seemed to know one another. I felt like I was a guest at a singing club, and that I was checking it out for possible membership, if the members would accept me.
Because this was a mostly new crowd for me (apart from Dave and Danielle), I started with a song that I know very well: Cat Stevens' "Where Do The Children Play?" People were receptive and Amy, at her KJ microphone, was extremely complimentary.
Another person from Conspiracy Theory's karaoke night, Annie, showed up soon after, followed by James, the person who had invited me to their table originally. Within an hour of the start of the evening, there were about 20 singers in the room.
I went up a second time with a song that I haven't sung in at least a year because it hits the upper range of my voice and I'm always worried that my voice will falter. But I sung "High and Dry," by Radiohead, anyway, and managed to pull it off in what was, I think, my best rendition. I headed straight to the bar to get a second pint, and the bartender raved about how I brought back memories of his youth.
With my second beer, I decided that I'd stay until my cup was empty, so I put in another song that I'm familiar with: "Driver 8," by R.E.M. (Conspiracy Theory didn't have it when I requested it, the previous week, but I knew it was on the KaraFun app).
I noticed that with this song, I couldn't hear myself through the monitors, so when I was finished, I let Amy know. She immediately started a song for herself and did a sound check, bringing the music down a little and finding the best place to stand with the microphone.
"I don't usually get up to sing," she told me afterward, "but I didn't have time to do the sound check, myself."
"You have a gorgeous voice. You should sing," I said.
"Thanks. You're very good, too."
Dave sang a heartfelt version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and it inspired me for my next song. I added "The Rainbow Connection" to the queue. But when I reached the end of my second beer, I saw that I was ninth in the list to go up. I rose to put my jacket on.
"Leaving so soon?" asked Dave.
"Afraid so," I said.
"Hey, are you coming out to Conspiracy Theory tomorrow?" asked James.
"I think so."
"Did you want a lift?" James and I discovered that we only live a block away from one another. He said he planned to be there around 7, when the karaoke night starts.
"Thanks, but I probably won't show until about 8." He usually stays until closing, and I wanted to also be able to leave when I wanted.
As I headed for the door, Amy got my attention. "Thanks for coming out. I hope to see you again."
"Count on it. You're less than 10 minutes from home and I love the venue."
Indeed, it's the nicest venue for karaoke that I've ever seen. Who would have thought that a former taekwon-do space could have transformed into such an intimate spot for one of my favourite pastimes?
I just might even become a regular.
Happy Tuesday!
