Karaoke Is About More Than Just Singing Into the Mic

Growing up in the Korean American enclave of Flushing, Queens, going to karaoke bars with my friends played an important role throughout my life. They were our default gathering places and the settings for plenty of memorable nights out, most of which included Korean power ballads, copious soju, generous presses of the remote’s applause button for good vibes, and a single designated person at the end going around to have everyone chip in cash to settle the bill.

And as a young queer person, not only did karaoke bars personally help me find my own voice, but also within Korean culture, karaoke is the go-to social lubrication for almost any occasion.

Celebrating a life milestone? Let’s go sing it out. Just got your heart broken? Let’s go sing it out. The office needs an icebreaker event for coworkers? Let’s go sing it out. Bored on a weeknight? Let’s go sing it out.

Thanks to this indoctrination, I’ve always had the mindset that there’s no occasion too big or small that calls for karaoke. Even if it’s just me and one other friend in the room letting off some steam, or it’s having a family reunion with relatives who’ve flown into town for my sister’s wedding, a good time is going to be had.

That’s because, karaoke is about much more than just singing into a microphone.

The physical aspect of karaoke alone is cathartic. In our current digital age, we are using our physical voices less and less. It’s not even uncommon for some people to now go through long periods without verbally speaking to another human. This disconnection from our voices makes all of that trapped energy within us clambering to escape. That’s why when that mic is in hand, it’s go-time. It’s a workout for the soul. The healing session has begun and sing-screaming “Starships” by Nicki Minaj is just what the doctor ordered. And it’s not just from happy music either. A moody ballad or sad track has just as much restorative power as an upbeat pop song.

With no windows to the outside world, private karaoke rooms are portals to let you get lost in the moment. For an hour, the people around you are your community. No one else exists. As if they were groupies whose lives depended on it, it’s understood that everyone is there to support the diva of the moment who’s commanding the mic. While the singer belts their heart out, the only job of others is to clap until their hands hurt. It’s a given that they’ll cheer like super fans while bopping around to the beat like amateur back dancers. And pro tip, not only is using that random-seeming tambourine in the room suggested, but it’s a must. With no musical talent needed, the designated tambourine maestro’s only requirement is the stamina is to bash the instrument against their thighs without abandon to the beat.

Perhaps the biggest misconception about doing karaoke is that people need to be a good singer. That’s actually not the case at all. What’s most important for karaoke isn’t vocals, it’s vulnerability. In fact, the worse singer you are, the better. The only thing you will be judged on is holding back from not trusting that you’re in a safe space. Sure, it can feel like there’s nothing more terrifying than bringing the mic to your mouth to truly be heard by others. To reveal something that personal is quite the intimate act. But within Korean culture, there are never any expectations for you to be a good singer. The only thing the audience demands is that you let go of all inhibitions. Everyone is rooting for you. It has to come from the gut. The only real thing on everyone’s mind is an unabashed curiosity to know what feelings have been marinating inside you for too long and how they’re now going to surface.

I’ve now been going to karaoke bars for so long that when it comes to going with someone new and hearing their singing voice for the first time, I’ve come to expect the unexpected. I’m always amazed by the voices that float out of people’s mouths. It discloses so much. Sometimes, a reserved person surprises the room with a booming voice. Or an obnoxious person will debut the sweetest and most gentle side of themselves and croon the room. As a native New Yorker who doesn’t drive, I liken these epiphanies to that same feeling of when I meet a friend in their hometown outside of New York City to experience their driving skills for the first time. It always makes me think, “so this is who you’ve been this entire time.”

Along with have a wild good time, these moments of understanding others on a deeper level and being fearless behind the mic is what karaoke is all about.

The next time you’ve just finished dinner at a restaurant and drinks at the bar with your crew, be that person to bring up the question: “Should we go do karaoke?”

And when you wake up the next morning reminiscing in the group chat about your hoarse voices and hangover from having too many soju shots the night before, know that you’ve just ushered in a brand new era for the group’s latest love language.

Tae Yoon is a writer and a former contributing editor at Resy. His over 15-year career in the New York City food and restaurant industry includes restaurants, bars, marketing, events, and food journalism both as a writer and editor. He’s currently writing a futuristic novel about revenge and food. Follow him on Instagram and TikTok.