Punk Rock-Heavy Metal Karaoke
Lauren Krohn
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Ten years ago this week marks the birth of Punk Rock-Heavy Metal Karaoke, an event for which David Richman, Devin Emke, and myself provide the musical backing. Since then, our band, alongside hosts Owen Comaskey and Vadim Newquist, has helped countless singers bellow, screech, warble, and occasionally out-sing the original artists whose songs they take on. We have also, you might say, witnessed some wacky shit. Herewith, in advance of a 10th anniversary show on Friday at Fontana's, a few memories…
• Among early visitors to Punk Rock-Heavy Metal Karaoke was Liquid Tapedeck, a group made up of downtown gadflies Michael “Soy Bomb” Portnoy and Christopher “Peter Etcetera” Brodeur, and allegedly the most innovative band ever. They quickly discovered our event, and before long, Portnoy had stuck his tongue in my mouth at one gig while Brodeur had coaxed my mother, who was there to see us for the first time, into participating in impromptu performance-art hijinks onstage. I'm told she jumped on the back of one of his cronies, but I can't be sure because I was cowering behind my amp, unable to watch.
• One night in 1999, punk-scene veteran and longtime New York Press columnist George Tabb subbed in as our MC. While encouraging the crowd to stick around for our set, he asked a generously chested woman near the stage if “those are real.” Out of nowhere, the frontwoman of the opening act hurtled toward Tabb, shouted a defense of her friend, and socked him in the jaw. He then proceeded to sing the first tune of the night, Quiet Riot’s “Metal Health,” with blood coursing out of his mouth.
• One early regular was dubbed “Keith Richards’ Grandfather” by another singer. This spindly, leather-jacketed guy enjoyed singing “Chinese Rocks” and “Talk Dirty To Me,” and cut a striking figure—particularly due to the indentation, or “hole,” in his forehead. It turned out his name was Bobby Lund, a downtown folk hero who had undergone trepanation (an actual medical procedure for which the skull is drilled or scraped) in the wake of a vicious assault outside his apartment a few years prior.
Lauren Krohn• A few months into the Iraq War, a guy was called up to the stage in the middle of the show. He told the crowd that he would ship out to the Middle East in a couple of weeks, and then proceeded to sing the shit out of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs.” I don’t know whether he was telling the truth, but I do know we never played that song better than we did that night.
• Our band was hired to entertain at a snowboarding event in Breckenridge, Colo. in 2003. At one point in the night, a bunch of snowboarders sprayed us all with Red Bull while a couple of others ran into the parking lot with one of our microphones.
• A representative for a Long Island car dealership who saw us open for Kid Rock at Irving Plaza in 2007 hired us to play for her company’s Christmas party. After a fancy dinner and lots of the Electric Slide, partygoers either asked us to play Jay-Z (which we could not) or stood drunk and befuddled in front of the microphones without singing. We played for less than 30 minutes, for which we were paid handsomely.
• Attendees have dressed up as everything from a giant bed to a mermaid to Tigger from Winnie The Pooh. One early regular known as “Buck” would dress up as Axl Rose or Dee Snider and tell deadpan anecdotes about his job, his teenage years, or his experiences with chicks vis-à-vis various Guns N’ Roses and Twisted Sister songs.
• Every so often, someone appeared out of nowhere—a hulking metalhead, a buttoned-up businessman, a small young lady—and shot a bull's-eye through the likes of Danzig’s “Twist Of Cain,” Styx’s “Come Sail Away,” or Anti-Nowhere League's “So What.” These folks would get up, sing, disappear into the crowd, and then get spoken of in awed whispers by those of us left standing in the end.
