Kristian Knutsen
"That was really nice the way you sung that," says Crackerjack, a local roller derby queen and Crapioke judge. "You're totally missing the point."
She's addressing a particularly soulful would-be Patsy Cline leaving the King Club club stage during Tuesday night's anti-karaoke festival. Part competition, part train wreck but mostly a boozey blur, it's a celebration of over-the-top stage antics and unconscionable vocals.
Think of it as an air-guitar contest for vocalists.
Of course, the show's only as good as those doing the singing (or pretending to). With no prior shows and no regulars, Tuesday night's debut took a few acts to establish the difference between karaoke and Crapioke. But as it builds a name, Crapioke could become something great, but the spectators need to realize that cheese, not restrained performances, deserves cheering.
Madison seems to be the perfect place for a whimsical, if ironic, night of karaoke that's run off track by the occasional singer attempting beauty. Squawkers aren't just welcome, they rule the night.
More information about Crapioke is available from its MySpace page.
