Mic Check

When most of us imagine a karaoke joint, we might think of a dive. We picture an old microphone stand in a dark corner. BROWNCOAT PUB & THEATRE in downtown Wilmington, on the other hand, has a stage. A real stage with rows of seats facing it, like a movie theater.

This is because although Browncoat hosts karaoke seven nights a week, it is also, as the name suggests, a theater. A bar and theater where plays, film screenings and weekly comedy shows regularly take the stage before karaoke commences, usually around 10 p.m.

Of course, as far as karaoke goes, there are differences of opinion when it comes to the stage. It really depends on whether you’re the type of person leaping costumed to the front of the crowd for your five minutes of fame or someone who has to be coaxed and cajoled up front, served with a constant supply of liquid courage while waiting for your name to be called.

“Exposed” is a word I heard more than once when discussing the pros and cons of the stage.

On the night the upcoming TLC reality show Karaoke Crashers was filming at Browncoat, the stage lights were all the way up, and there was nowhere to hide. The show was described as a group filming its search for the best karaoke joints in America.

The “host” is Chris, a skinny, overly eager 30-something wearing a T-shirt displaying different types of mustaches. He shouts to the crowd a few times, makes us all stand and yell “Karaoke Crashers!” for the camera, and most importantly, leads the crowd in a calculatedly upbeat rendition of Whoomp! (There It Is). The crew talks to girls. No one signs any releases.

Despite filming, karaoke at Browncoat goes pretty much as always, although busier than usual as local performers vie to display their talents in front of a camera, possibly to a national audience.

My favorite thing about karaoke is the variety.

Within an hour we heard The Humpty Dance, I’m Too Sexy, Pour Some Sugar on Me and Day After Day. I love being surprised by the combination of the chosen song and the person who chose it.

There are different levels of commitment as well. Sometimes people give up halfway through the song; a few get up and sing so no one can hear.

And then people who take karaoke very seriously, like the KJs. That’s Karaoke Jockeys, “but that’s not an official term, like disc jockey or anything,” I was assured by KJ Sir Paul, who, aside from making his rounds to local karaoke joints to sing, hosts at Katy’s Grill & Bar on Tuesday nights.

I’m no KJ, although I think I sing a mean Black Velvet in the right situation. And after years of intermittent performances and many hours in the karaoke audience, I’ve learned a few things:

There are different levels of talent, of course, which is most of the fun of karaoke.

“I can’t sing a lick,” exclaims one bride-to-be, waiting to sing Any Man of Mine by Shania Twain with her bachelorette posse. The crowd claps along to a soul song I don’t recognize. Someone hoots; from the bar comes a raunchy “Owww.” The large man onstage bends his knees and shimmies, cradling the mic. He’s beaming as the audience howls.

Mandy, who sings with a local band, looks over from her spot in the front row, still clapping along, and says, “People don’t feel appreciated in their real lives. For some people, this is the only applause they ever get.”