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less singing at one. After much prompting, and emboldened by generous amounts of
beer, I finally summoned the courage to unleash my debut song — Abba’s “Dancing
Queen,” if memory serves — on an expectant public. Gradually shedding my stiff
British reserve, my voice grew from a timid crackle to a triumphal bellow, drawing
whoops of approval from my companions. It was nothing short of liberating. Having
been thus blooded in karaoke, I was at something of an advantage when the noraebang
call inevitably came in Korea. In my earliest visits there, I could see much of
what I recalled from my previous karaoke experiences: the disco lights, cavern-esque
rooms and tinny musical accompaniments were all present and correct.
Yet things were a bit different here, too. For one thing, the song lists, while containing
the usual English-language standards, also had strikingly outré inclusions
(who could resist a singalong to metal titans Helloween or Pantera?). For another, in
a country not known for its abstemiousness, most noraebang were, and still are,
completely dry (although, thankfully for my own singing career, some places do sell
booze). And crucially, thanks to the relative ease of learning the Korean alphabet,
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