Karaoke: Artists catch the tune

The Philadelphia Inquirer (MCT) - On the third interview in which you discuss karaoke as metaphor, karaoke as inspiration for high art, karaoke as a moderating force on otherwise strident political discourse, you stop yourself.

Oh, c'mon. Seriously?

Well, yes.

And no.

Karaoke, it turns out, is a fruitful jumping-off point for edgy artists. It is, you might say, the ultimate interactive performance, stripped of any pretense.

"I think karaoke shows a blend of cultures," said Veronique Cote, director of Yo Darkroom in Philadelphia and curator of its new show, "Empty Orchestras: Art Meets Karaoke."

Karaoke, she says, allows artists to grapple with big issues like authors' rights and ownership, interactive performance, and public space. She's brought the karaoke-linked work of five artists to the show at Yo Darkroom.

"It's festive and happy, but also a tool of the people, something that is empowering people," Cote said.

And so there's telephone protest karaoke, ice-cream-cart karaoke, manifesto karaoke, heartbreak karaoke, interaction of low-tech humor and politics karaoke, and "Singin' in the Rain"-misappropriation karaoke.

"We are dealing with artists' background of heavy stuff, even though it seems ridiculous," she says.

Ridiculous, eh? Would she perhaps be referring to dancer and artist Boris Willis' kooky karaoke film in which he sings of heartbreak to his love objects, first a still camera and then a video camera, finds solace in a karaoke bar, sings to himself in nature, and drives off into the sunset singing of being "In my socks and underwear"?

And invites you to sing along?

Or perhaps Philadelphian Chris Barr's karaoke ice-cream cart, which he invites people to strike up a spontaneous karaoke party on the street.

"Karaoke is this odd cultural phenomenon that takes art and music, and allows the audience to have some sort of ownership of it," Barr says. "Within a lot of contemporary art these days, there's a movement to take authority off of the artist as the sole author of the artwork. It's also this weird cultural thing that we're all aware of, it's kind of goofy and fun. It's kind of vibrant."

Cote, looking for an edgy show to take advantage of the ongoing Fringe festival (though the show is not part of that), at first looked to do a show about music. When that didn't really pan out, she said, she settled on karaoke.

A little Googling, and she had the work of five artists, including Amos Latteier (telephone protest) and performance artist Sarah Paul ("Singin' in the Rain") for the show, which runs through Sept. 14 at Yo Darkroom.

Artist Gordon Winiemko of California, who put his own leftist manifesto to the tunes of five of the Rolling Stones' top 500 songs, sees karaoke as "the people's tool, making everyone a participant."

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"For me, for this project, that's what I'm singing about, the ideal of democratization," he said. "But ultimately what I do is say maybe democracy is the problem. Maybe if everyone has a voice, what do we get?"

You get karaoke, that's what you get.

Winiemko's installation allows people two choices: to just watch a DVD of him singing his own lyrics to the songs, or to put it in karaoke mode and sing along with Winiemko's lyrics, which simultaneously allows a person a voice, but then forces him to give that voice to someone else's thoughts, to the tune of someone else's music.

"If you watch the demo, you know what you're getting into," he says. "If you don't, and you just start doing the karaoke, it's like whoa, what is this? I can even see people not making it all the way through. It just kind of plays as a thing that's entreating you to go along. It doesn't need a participant to complete it."

Winiemko likens this to the offer of people to get involved in solving some of the world's problems. Will they take up the offer?

Then there's Amos Latteier, who's bringing his "We're Not Gonna Take It" protest telephone karaoke to Philadelphia. What you do is, you dial 215-531-5063 and you can record your own lyrics to Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It," registering complaints about any issue you wish, and designate that it be sent to any politician you wish.

So far, the Philadelphia line has produced two recordings: one a "passionate but almost incomprehensible protest song" by Sara sent to the city's mayor, and a "protest against crappy roommates by Krysta." (http://werenotgonnatakeit.org).

"It gives people an opportunity to express themselves politically and still have a good time and not feel it has to be strident," Latteier says. "It gives them a jokey way in."

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© 2008, The Philadelphia Inquirer.