Thursday nights are full of regulars and Reedies when I’ve gone with a group of friends, we’ve rarely found seats together (but have always been too drunk to care). The seating area is full of leather-bound armchairs on wheels that are erratically placed around long, equally erratically placed tables. Performing at Scoreboard feels like singing to a conference room full of punks. Scoreboard Sports Bar for a supportive audience
(Bonus points: KJ Dungeonmaster brings a smoke machine, and he’s not afraid to use it.) RH Tuesdays at High Water Mark Lounge, 6800 NE MLK Thursdays at Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy But get there early and you’ll get one of the few seats in the room and plenty of stage time. That’s bad news when it starts getting crowded, which it most certainly did when I was there recently.
If you’re looking to stay comfortable between turns on the mic, going to Satanaroke when it’s at the Tonic is your best bet, since the High Water Mark Lounge recently removed an entire row of booths to install new bathrooms, and plopped a ping-pong table and pool table in the middle of their performance room. Like Planet Fitness, it’s a judgment-free zone. The point still stands: If you want to spend the night singing an array of unusual show tunes like “A Little Priest” from Sweeney Todd or throat-shredding favorites from the Sword or Entombed between the usual run of pop hits, this is the place for you. The tag line for Satanaroke, the twice-weekly event that takes place at two of the city’s most headbanger-friendly venues, is “Karaoke for the Weirdos.” Catchy but unnecessary, considering the assortment of oddballs I’ve rubbed shoulders with at more upscale karaoke bars. ROBERT HAM Mondays at Dante’s, 350 W Burnside First Thursdays at Spare Room, 4830 NE 42nd They’ve also got one of the most diverse and fun songbooks around-one that highlights local heroes like Dead Moon and Hazel alongside truly daring tunes by Pere Ubu and Agent Orange. If not, at least Shannon will be there to help get you back on track. Like those tinny instrumentals you’ll hear in typical karaoke spots, the music isn’t a carbon copy of the original tracks, but it’s close enough that you’d best know your stuff before getting onstage. The appeal ain’t that difficult: Here’s a chance for folks of all stripes to sing while being backed by real musicians! It’s all of your rock-star fantasies fulfilled in three- to five-minute increments. Longstanding musical institutions are hard to come by in Portland these days, but one of the few left standing is Karaoke from Hell, Tres Shannon’s live-band karaoke experience that’s been going strong for 25 years. Karaoke from Hell for actualizing rock-star fantasies
The songbook is vast and reliable for classics, the greasy Chinese fast food is ideal for soaking up all those cheap drinks, the motley crew in the audience is almost always supportive, and on multiple occasions I’ve witnessed complete strangers storm the dance floor to join singers. Chopsticks is open every single day, there’s no cover, and its location on Northeast Sandy makes it the perfect place to land after catching a show at the Tonic Lounge. With the recent shuttering of Chopsticks III still weighing heavily on the hearts of local karaoke lovers, it’s high time to appreciate the last remaining member of the How Can Be family.
The legacy of Chopsticks is permanently sewn into the pleather fabric of Portland’s history (according to legend, Elliott Smith even sang at the original). I can’t say I blame them.) Beware: If you’re too drunk, the neon laser lights will distract you and you will trail off mid-song-or maybe not, but that’s what happened to me. (If you don’t get there early to stake out seats, you’ll be forced to hover awkwardly, annoying everyone around you.) The last time I went to the Alibi, I watched two women duet Khia’s “My Neck My Back (Lick It)”-one of the boldest songs you can sing to a room of strangers-while I chose to struggle through “When It’s Over” by Sugar Ray. Billed as “Portland’s original Tiki bar,” the Alibi is like the adult version of the Rainforest Café, with lush tropical flora, fountains, and potent cocktails with names like “Miami Vice” and “Shark Attack.” The back of the bar is where the magic happens, but beware-this is one of the busiest karaoke joints I’ve ever attended, even on weeknights. Heed my warning, Portland: If the Alibi ever closes, I will throw the biggest temper tantrum this city has ever seen, and the streets will be flooded with my mascara-stained tears.