They better not be making wedding plans back there.
A song or two slips by, and the queue, such as it is, is proportionately short compared to the crowd. As the next song wraps up, Jeannie returns to the table. Smiling, face flushed, grabbing at Mark's arm as she swings herself down into his former seat. Drunk and happy, but also mortified. She'd let herself get talked into an Adele song and is second guessing everything. Mark, trying to help, says she sounds great in the shower. She puts her head on the table.
No such attacks of nerves on the stage with Lestat again ascending, mic in hand, as if the space personally belonged to him. "Some of you may be aware," he is saying, and it's fifty-fifty on whether he is mind controlling the DJ yet again into affording him a little dramatic build up, or was simply slipped him a twenty, "of my monstrous proclivities. That I feed on the blood of terrible performers, and perhaps, you think, the Vampire Lestat is attending a buffet."
Some laughs, some jeers, the latter of which he points to and says, "But this is not so. I tell you this, because I will need your help for my next performance, and I wouldn't wish anyone to be afraid of singing with me. Also I will eat everyone who fails to."
A little gesture to the DJ, and moody piano suffuses the room. "Front table, I am counting on you," Lestat adds, before he begins the first line of Bonnie Tyler's karaoke favourite.
Overwrought, comedic on purpose, and as promised, full of audience participation for the overlapping vocals, directing the microphone out for backing as well as the titular lyric. Front table does indeed have his back, but it's an easy song to gather buy-in, and enough drunk people to happily shout-sing along all the way back to the bar, to cheer for the keychange, or laugh at the little improvisations in between.
Of course, alongside it all, Lestat meets the eighties power ballad on its own terms. There was no singing like this a century ago, two centuries ago, but oh, he does enjoy it, clear pleasure taken in making his voice meet the challenge. Good work, modern sensibility.
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A song or two slips by, and the queue, such as it is, is proportionately short compared to the crowd. As the next song wraps up, Jeannie returns to the table. Smiling, face flushed, grabbing at Mark's arm as she swings herself down into his former seat. Drunk and happy, but also mortified. She'd let herself get talked into an Adele song and is second guessing everything. Mark, trying to help, says she sounds great in the shower. She puts her head on the table.
No such attacks of nerves on the stage with Lestat again ascending, mic in hand, as if the space personally belonged to him. "Some of you may be aware," he is saying, and it's fifty-fifty on whether he is mind controlling the DJ yet again into affording him a little dramatic build up, or was simply slipped him a twenty, "of my monstrous proclivities. That I feed on the blood of terrible performers, and perhaps, you think, the Vampire Lestat is attending a buffet."
Some laughs, some jeers, the latter of which he points to and says, "But this is not so. I tell you this, because I will need your help for my next performance, and I wouldn't wish anyone to be afraid of singing with me. Also I will eat everyone who fails to."
A little gesture to the DJ, and moody piano suffuses the room. "Front table, I am counting on you," Lestat adds, before he begins the first line of Bonnie Tyler's karaoke favourite.
Overwrought, comedic on purpose, and as promised, full of audience participation for the overlapping vocals, directing the microphone out for backing as well as the titular lyric. Front table does indeed have his back, but it's an easy song to gather buy-in, and enough drunk people to happily shout-sing along all the way back to the bar, to cheer for the keychange, or laugh at the little improvisations in between.
Of course, alongside it all, Lestat meets the eighties power ballad on its own terms. There was no singing like this a century ago, two centuries ago, but oh, he does enjoy it, clear pleasure taken in making his voice meet the challenge. Good work, modern sensibility.