It is a little sad when you realise that you are not so good at what you would really like to be good at (this post may be tainted by the fact I am fast approaching 40 and so I am being forced to come to terms with the fact that there are quite a few things that I will most likely now never achieve like becoming a supermodel or representing Australia in netball). But some things are easier to understand and accept than others. Like I kind of realised when I stopped growing by age 13 that I was never going to be tall enough (or fast enough or, really, good enough) for leading life as a netballer. That was ok. I dealt with that and moved on (kind of, just don't ever ask me to be part of your casual weekday netball side as I do have a fiercely competitive side which is really not attractive). But not all such realisations can be as easily accepted. Me and singing is one such example.
I am acutely aware that I have no singing talent. To this day, I remain a little perplexed at how I managed to, just once, make it into the selective singing group at high school (the teacher clearly made a mistake and it was wrong because it gave me false hope for about three months that I could actually hold a tune). From then on, and particularly at home in the shower, I have managed to embrace the badness. The same cannot be said for husband and children - of my singing that is - because, disappointingly, husband and all three children can hold a tune (the middle child is especially good at singing and has some weird uncanny ability for being able to remember all the song lyrics almost instantaneously). If I was not living in Korea then it might have been ok. I might have managed to temper my jealously towards family members who can sing (we desperately need to add a howling dog to our family soon to even up the balance) and I could have potentially lived out my days pretending that I was a totally awesome singer and could so totally match it with Beyonce or, at the very least, Celine Dion.
But this is the land of the Noreabang, Korea's own special version of karaoke. Here, a visit to the Noreabang is as normal as going to the supermarket. So normal in fact that people will visit a Noreabang during lunchtimes and it will, without fail, be part of any evening out. It helps that a visit to a Noreabang is easily accessible, with bars on most corners (like coffee shops), inexpensive and usually open 24 hours (with free popcorn between 6am and 12pm). It probably also helps that all Koreans can sing (whilst I have not met every Korean but every Korean that I have ever met can sing. Like really sing). All this means that there was only so long that my secret shame could remain secret.
At first, I thought I could gleefully embrace my singing suckiness (I cannot think of an appropriate actual English word to describe my atrociousness so I have made up a word instead). Having, somewhat recently, come to terms with the fact that I will not be a supermodel anytime soon (although given I am not yet saying no to experiencing South Korea's plethora of plastic surgery options perhaps the door has not yet closed here) surely I would be able to deal, happily, with not being able to sing. Alas, the slightly competitive side hidden deep inside of me has proven very hard to contain especially when I enter the darkened, smokey rooms of a Noreabang establishment. It seems I can only cope with being ironically bad, not just ordinarily bad. This is not good, especially because my visits to Noreabangs are getting more and more frequent. So, short of unceremoniously ejecting my middle child from her singing lessons and taking her place, I have been forced to institute a set of rules that are to be followed when entering Noreabang land. In no particular order (although rule 1 and 10 are the most important) here they are.
1. At all costs, keep the microphone
When I wrote about my first visit to a Noreabang (way back in April 2014) I was clear that I may have had a few issues with microphone hogging: "It is the combination of little singing ability mixed with an aggressive, over-bearing, determination to not give the microphone up. I would rather you take my firstborn child, in fact I would gladly hand her over, if it meant I could keep that microphone and the songs coming." I stand by that comment. It is annoying to have to listen to other people who will always be better than you so under no circumstances should you relinquish the microphone. You usually only have an hour in the Noreabang room. That hour will never be long enough, especially if you have to share. Suggest also avoiding eye contact with others because this makes it harder for them to shame you into handing the mike over.
Do not sit on the couches and sing. The couches are reserved for people who can actually sing and don't need to distract others with their booty shaking. By jumping around, singing (yelling) excessively and ridiculously loudly and bashing that tambourine with all your might (point for novice Noreabang goers - too vigorous a tambourine season may leave your thighs rather sore) your fellow "Noreabangers" just might not notice your singing (or, more accurately, your lack thereof). Really ridiculous 80s dance moves also help when you sing way off key and are so far off the beat (even with the words in front of you on the gigantic screen) that the the song becomes totally unrecognisable. That is all ok because eveyone will just be in awe of your energetic moves. (Again, however, as you get closer to 40 and are not as in shape as you were in your teenage netball playing days this becomes harder and harder to maintain, especially for one solid hour so I suggest using bathroom breaks as strategic breathers).
3. Use props
Use every and any prop that the Noreabang provides, inclduing thinsg that are perhaps not actually meant to be props! Don't feel weird about bringing in your own props either (ok, so that is slightly weird but you are in Korea and everyone here already thinks you are weird so just keep rolling with it). Again, distraction from your singing is what you are seeking to achieve here.
4. The scores are always wrong unless they are 100 in which case they are right!
Never believe in the scores that are posted at the end. Most machines are rigged. How can they not be when they give your four year old who cannot read the words and basically just yells into the microphone a score of 92 (or wait - was that me?). Also be aware that different Noreabangs score differently and change their criteria based on time of day. What other explanation can there be when you sing late at night after a vodka or two and get 100 yet try that same song two days later at 9am in the morning when you were pretending to husband that you were going to Costco you only score 50?
Anytime is a good time for dropping into a Noreabang. Although at 9am in the morning, having just dropped the kids off to school, having NOT had a coffee, visiting a private room of your local Noreabang instead of fighting with the adjumas for the Australian beef at Costco, might not be ideal, particularly should one happen to be vulnerable to an attack of low self-esteem on such a morning. It won't end well (think hysterical woman crying into the arms of the Noreabang cleaner as to why it is she was cursed with the no singing voice gene. Best to not talk any further about this point).
6. Outfit
A good Noreabang session can be the same as 45 minutes with Shawn T of Insanity fame. You can end up drenched in sweat (especially if you pay attention to rule number 2). This can make going to a ladies lunch straight afterwards a little challenging so I suggest bringing a change of clothes in your backpack. It also helps when you accidentally and awkwardly run into the dude you once mountain climbed with (although he was more like a gazelle and you, sadly, were not) at a restaurant you ran to after a particularly sweat filled hour long Noreabang session. Any and all explanations are embarrassing for everyone at that point.
7. Keep it on the downlow
Husbands need not know when you Noreabang, or at least they need not be aware of all the times you Noreabang. Best for marriage harmony that he does not realise exactly why it is that you were unable to again make it to Costco today.
8. Never record your performance - it is not a good idea at the time!
It is never a good idea to plug in a USB stick to record your performances. This point bears repeating. It is never a good idea to plus in a USB stick to record your performances. NEVER. NEVER. NEVER.
9. Choose your venue and your room wisely
Window fronted rooms are awesome. Fight for them. The owners won't give them up that easily as they seem to want to take them for themselves (or perhaps customers who can actually sing as, apparently that is good marketing and it encourages people walking down the street to enter the premises). I am not sure why it is that they think some crazed, middle aged woman singing solo at 9am in the morning would not attract the equal amount, if not more, customers to their establishment.
10. No children - at least not mine
Last rule of the Noreabang: Never go to karaoke with your four year old daughter. Never. It will not be good for the relationship, especially when said 4 year old takes over, refuses to microphone or tambourine share and is basically just too good and cute for you or anyone else to match!!
