🎧AUDIO QUACK 🎧
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On New Year’s Eve last year, I was in a bar in Balham, swapping New Year’s resolutions with a random man. I told him that mine was to do karaoke. The man was shocked—it was as if I had told him I had never tried Marmite.
“How have you existed for over thirty years and have never tried karaoke?” he said, exasperated.
His reaction made me determined to achieve my goal.
But it’s now 2025… and I have yet to try karaoke. And there is no excuse – I had the perfect opportunity at a cosy sing-along piano bar.
A mother in her late fifties with a bob haircut was with her daughter, husband and daughter’s friends when she chose Rizzo’s solo from Grease. ‘There Are Worse Things I Can Do.‘
A young doctor requested “Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane but surprised the bar by changing the lyrics to a pro-vaccine song. The perplexed pianist played the familiar tune as the man sang the lyrics off his phone. “You can get it if you contact infected blood…or certain other bodily fluids…” He ended the song with, “go and get your vaccine….”
I was sitting at a high-top table, skimming the list of songs available. I had fantasised about what my karaoke debut would be like.
I always liked the idea of singing Black Velvet. I saw myself casually wandering around the bar, perhaps rubbing the hair of some unexpected man. Possibly hop onto a table as my gravelly, leathery voice filled the room.
I spent most of the evening in this dream state until the pianist announced it was time for the last requests. My belly fluttered. It was now or never. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to raise my hand. I realised that if I was ever going to achieve my goal, I either needed singing lessons…. or alcohol.
Unfortunately, my 2018 New Year’s resolution was getting in the way of my bravery. I was 26 when I decided to do Dry January, and I haven’t had a drink since.
I suppose I should encourage my friends who are choosing to dry out this month with my sobriety wisdom. I should say something like, “The clear mind is a free mind, my child…” whilst wearing a robe, holding a stick and standing on a rock.
But I tell you now, it’s not one big kebab-free-rose-garden. In my seven years off the booze, I have found the lack of courage to do karaoke is just one of the downsides of not drinking.
I have watched bad-ass women in films come home from a day at a crime scene, kick off their heels, and pour themselves a massive glass of wine on their marble island. That’s cool. I want to be her. But then I remembered I can’t be as cool as her…. because I don’t drink.
The trickiest part of sober living though, is not in your kitchen when you want to be Gillian Anderson, but on nights out when you have to explain why you’re a full-time party-pooper.
Alcohol is one of the greatest tools for socialising. What’s a wedding without champagne? What’s a rugby match without Camden Hells? What’s a date night without a Malbec?
I have found the alcohol-free drinks quite handy in this department. If you hold something resembling champagne or beer, you at least look like you’re part of the event. If you still don’t feel like you’re fitting in though, I recommend dancing badly. Being brutally honest with everyone. Maybe cry at one point for no reason.
People will soon forget that you’re sober.
If you’re curious to know what the alcohol-free drinks taste like, Well, some taste like Fruit Shoots, whilst others are pretty accurate. But even if the taste is there, alcohol-free drinks cannot offer you that courage which pushes you onto a karaoke stage or even more minor things, like walking into a party all by yourself.
We’ve all been there. A gathering in a room above a pub. Some people you know, most you don’t. You shuffle in and hover next to a group. A man is dryly explaining his job as a zoo accountant.
You ask a stupid question like, “If the finances are in trouble, what is the first animal to go?”
And he replies with a straight face. “The zebras.”
The awkwardness continues. Someone says something you don’t quite hear. The small talk is fake. The laughs are exaggerated. It’s all so uncomfortable. It’s no wonder we gulp down our first alcoholic drink at the speed of light.
I remember how my first gin would go in a flash. It was there. It was gone. Magic. I saw alcohol as fuel for my social engine. Without it, I simply couldn’t…. go.
But after experiencing every social situation sober, I have accepted that the initial minutes are always going to be a little stiff. It’s like the first few steps of a run or the first sentence of a chapter – It just takes time to warm up.
An hour into the pub gathering, the zoo accountant is doing his best impression of a lion. (He roars in your face). So, you give him your best impression of an armadillo. (Collapse on the floor and roll). He still thinks your beer has alcohol in it.
It made me wonder if perhaps the same strategy applies to karaoke.
It must always start awkwardly. You nervously step onto the stage and grip the mic like you’re trying to squeeze a fish to death. The pianist begins to play the heavy chords. You glance at the faces staring at you. They’re confused. What a strange song.
The first few lines come out quiet and shaky. “Missi…ssippi in the middle of a dry spell…” But by the time you get to the chorus, you are warmed up. You are on a table, belting. “Black velvet with that slow southern style!!!” You are a rock star. You are Alannah herself. Except your voice is not a leathery, sexy sound; it’s flat and broken. But it doesn’t matter because everyone thinks you’re absolutely wasted.
And so, this 2025, like unused annual leave, I am transferring my New Year’s resolution across. This will be the year I finally do karaoke.
If you are drying out this January I highly recommend reading
This Naked Mind: Control Alcohol by Annie Grace. I found it super helpful when giving up booze.
The Quack is also available on all popular podcast apps.
THE QUACK 