Karaoke + The Barbary = Karaoke at The Barbary

We went to Karaoke on Sunday night instead of watching the Oscars. For you. Yes, we are that dedicated to you. We love you and would do anything for you. Anything. Weird things. So click the link and read about it after the jump. Prove that you love us back. Earn this.

Disclaimer: We here at the mishap press take our jobs seriously. So when I was told that karaoke started at 9 o’clock, I waited until 4 to start drinking. I am a professional. Unfortunately, the start time got pushed back until 11 because of an earlier all ages show (science fact: It takes exactly 2 hours to chase a horde of 12 year olds out of a bar after you’ve let them get a taste for it). And so, a standard 5 hour drinking head start, or what we in the business call research, turned into a 7 hour holy shit why am I still standing string of bad decisions that all made perfect sense at the time. So, uh, this is gonna be a short and somewhat generalized review and it’s everyone’s fault except for mine. Luckily, fellow Mishap Presser Owen never misses an opportunity to be loud, so he was in attendance and will be co-handling the details and latter half of this review. We’re going to double handle it. And you are going to watch.

The Review: The Barbary doesn’t take itself too seriously. They have dance parties, karaoke, all age shows and probably get up to all sorts of other shenanigans when I’m not looking. They’re not going for any specific identity other than a place where something is probably going to be happening when you show up and flashing lights will most likely factor heavily into whatever that thing is. If we’re being honest, that’s kind of a cool identity to have.

If you’re not into whatever’s going on when you do show up, you can usually just head to the upstairs bar and commence normal bar related activities. So there’s a built in escape route if you’re the type of everyone that gets bored of karaoke after a while. Side note: the upstairs bar has the most level pool table that I’ve been able to find within walking distance. This is a big deal to some people.

But thats not what I went for, I was there for the karaoke. I craved it. And when you’re there for the karaoke, here is what happens; First you’re just drinking at a mostly empty bar. Then you’re drinking at a mostly empty bar with a DISCO BALL! Then you’re drinking at a mostly empty bar with a disco ball while someone is screaming at you and everyone else is not giving a shit….and then everyone gets drunk. And then more people start wandering in. And then there’s a duet of a meatloaf song. And then you have fun. You have fun even if a bunch of the dancinest mother fuckers you’ve ever seen squeezed into the snazziest digs $5 can buy at a thrift store need to jam it down your god damn throat.

Everyone is there for karaoke. If they weren’t, they’d be upstairs. No one accidentally wandered in, and no one was just at a bar when some karaoke broke out(which is a terrifying thing that happens too often). Everyone showed up on purpose, ending in a room full of people dead set on having a good time and not caring at all wether or not they looked like an ass while doing it. Its really hard to say anything negative about that. Perhaps Owen can? We’ll see. But before I hand this off to him, I’ll say three quick things.

-If you’re gonna show up in costume, I applaud your enthusiasm, but know the words. Costumes raise the bar. In literally any facet of life, if you come wearing a costume, you better straight up run that shit. If it wasn’t a costume and you just dress like a school girl all the time, never mind, keep doing whatever the hell you want, you’ve obviously got your own agenda.

-There was a guy who sang ‘True Faith’ by New Order. There is no sarcasm whatsoever in my saying that whatever he thought he was doing when he was violently rocking back and forth, sloppily fucking the air in as selfish a manner as possible, is the best dance move I have ever seen. I don’t know if he was that into Barbary karaoke, that drunk, or just a genuine god damn showman, but it was by far the best performance in my opinion.

-The photo booth smelled like farts.

Owen go now!

Thanks Jason, that was some fine reporting. For a GIRL. Now it’s time to run a train on this review.

When I arrived at the Barbary around 10:30, it was indeed to a room full of nothing and a fucking disco ball. Fancy lights and disco balls really throw into sharp relief the fact that there were hardly any people there, doing hardly any dancing. This is something I’ve become accustomed to in my numerous visits to karaoke sunday. Shit really gets poppin’ after midnight, when it often turns into a god damn whirling shit tornado of drunk dancing and screaming.
Alas, not a big turnout when I arrived. Relatively chill, save for Jason, who was blinking stupidly and grinning through 7 hours of straightup tequila madness. His girlfriend and caretaker was speaking in tongues and hissing at anyone who got between her and her gatorade martini.

I paged through their impressive selection of songs to choose from (a WHOLE PAGE of mariah carey!) and got myself a beer.

The first act of note was indeed, the Meat Loaf duet that was already touched upon. The one dude had the pipes for it, which is always a pleasant surprise.

Yeah so as for the whole costume thing Jason mentioned up there. That was really something. What happened next was this girl gets up and performs “Hit Me Baby (One More Time)” by celebrated has-been Britney Spears. I don’t know if it was a coincidence or not, but she was indeed done up in her finest schoolgirl garb (no pigtails though MINUS TEN POINTS). And wouldn’t you know it? She butchered the damn song. Growing up having heard that song beaten to death at grade school dances and the like, even I know all the words to this song. The assed up rendition took the whole costume thing from being totally novel to just kind of weird. Whatever I still looked so i guess you win, Lolita.

A few less-than-memorable/bad karaokes on down the line, and Everyone’s starting to loosen up/get drunk enough to dance. It seemed like as soon as that started to happen, the guy who sang “True Faith” started his hypnotic, snake-like gyration. Jason stood transfixed, a river of drool sloshing down his lobster bib that he always wears “just in case”. The singing portion was a little off, but I give the guy a pass, maybe his girlfriend just dumped him.

Jason’s girlfriend slurred her way through No Doubt’s “Spiderwebs”, a rather fetching blonde girl did some Queen, and then it was my turn.

Now, there may be some of you out there who have never heard me sing, but take my word: my voice gives animals within a four-block radius shuddering orgasms. My voice gave the pope a boner and made the devil take a day off. I am a moderate to good singer.
Having even gone so far as to WIN LIKE CRAZY on a previous occasion (by the way, the prize for winning is fifty bucks! do YOU have fifty bucks? yes? well FUCKING CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU daddy warbucks!) I gave it my damnedest with a searing rendition of “Possum Kingdom” by The Toadies off of their acclaimed(?) 1995 album Rubberneck.

But wait. Looking around the room, It dawned on me: Jason had left. In my hour of need, that tequila-swollen bastard had left me. Hey Jas, it’s called “The Mishap Press”, not the “Mis-Owen’s-Rendition-Of-Possum-Kingdom-Hap Press”. So, stricken with anxiety, maybe I didn’t give it my all. No amount of over the top floor pounding or doing the running man could have filled the void that Jason, that bald-headed sleazebag, left in my heart when he walked out that door.

Maybe I’m being overdramatic. Maybe I should just kill myself. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? God, nobody gets me.

I soldiered on however, because it was right around that time shit started to really go all full-tilt. Maybe it was the booze, or the big threatening man finally leaving, but it was then that the dance party started.

The overall enthusiasm of the room took a big shift and just as I thought, everyone started bumpin’ up on each other. This is the high point about karaoke The Barbary, because it’s hard to have an ego or even a modicum of self-consciousness, let alone self respect, when you’re dead set on singing The Rolling Stones to a room full of people who either don’t know you or are better than you. Dancing is just the next logical step in the “Oh Fuck It” mentality.

Around 1am, they announced the finalists. With baited breath i waited to hear my name, desperate to be chosen to win that sweet sweet fifty dollar prize and all the glory a man could stomach. And you know what? Didn’t even make the finals. Thanks a fucking lot Jason. You cost me GLORY. You’re dog shit and your whole deal is dog shit.

So, cut down in my prime, I said “fuck this” and walked before the finals. Barbary karaoke nights are fun if you have the stones to go out on a Sunday, maybe have too many beers and end up dancing with cute people, but please, I implore you: never rely on your so-called “friends” to stay and support you. Friendship is just another sad illusion that we cast over the true form of this dark, ugly world.

And yo seriously the photobooth smells like farts. Don’t sit in the booth next to it.

Sunday Night Karaoke at the Barbary. Why Not?

Not going to any shows Sunday night? Why not? Hate bands? Too cool for the scene? Well then, you are joyless and arrogant. Hey, I call em like I see em. But I’ll give you an alternative anyway, ya narcissistic hate filled son of a bitch because, damn it, I like your style. Ready for it? Karaoke! Underwhelmed? I get that a lot. But you’re not going to a show and you’re not allowed back in the bowling alley, so what else are you gonna do? That’s right, head to The Barbary for Sunday night karaoke.

It’s like going to a show except instead of paying for the opportunity to see people who are good at music, you don’t pay and are forced to see people who are bad at music. You can even be bad at music yourself if you want. At karaoke, YOU’RE in charge. It’s like pouring liquor on a choose your own adventure book and then screaming the lyrics to Ice Ice Baby at it (I don’t really understand what analogies are or how to use them)….Come to The Barbary and sing at me while I drink!

Also, there might be cake. No promises.

Friday Night! Pick Your Poison!

Sup beautiful babies?

Tonight, I provide you with two possible options for doin' the damn thang on a friday night.

First off is "NO TIGHT PANTS", a dance party at the Khyber's upstairs room, located on 2nd and Chestnut in Old City. Option two is cheap drinks at Handle Bar, a cheap little corner joint on Frankford and Wildey, directly between Johnny Brenda's and The Barbary in Fishtown.

In order to try to keep things fair here, let's play the pros and cons game.

Khyber:

PROS

• awesome 80's/90's r&b and hip-hop.

• Old City location assures plenty of other crap to do afterwards.

• cute chicks love goofy ass dance parties.

CONS

• dance parties at The Khyber tend to be loud as shit. Good luck striking up a conversation with anyone/keeping the fillings in your teeth from being rattled out.

• Old City location assures plenty of horrendous skanks that are somehow simultaneously overdressed and underdressed.

• crowded. i prefer to keep my drinks in my mouth, not on some dude's shirt.

Handle Bar:

PROS

• $1.50 domestic drafts from 9-12. $3 well drinks. Can't beat a deal.

• Smoking allowed inside.

• The lovely Sharon is bartending.

CONS

• Maybe you don't like drinking domestic brews out of a cup? I dunno.

• Smoking allowed inside.

• It is kind of a scummy dive bar with all manner of unsavory characters/maybe your dad shows up.

Really, I have little to no problem with aforementioned cons, having a predilection towards scummy scumhole bars and weird old people. So you see which way I'm leaning, however, there will be other deciding factors involved (i.e. if my whiny friend who I'm taking with whines too much about there not being enough glitter or whatever at Handle Bar.) but now you've got your heads up.

Can't wait to see you there, wherever there may be.

Weekend Events! 2/10 - 2/13

Hey kids, you like the punk rock, right? I have some show recommendations for the weekend, so put on your hoodies and chucks, and check out why you can't keep anything quiet on the internet.

Cobra Skulls, Luther, and Dirty Tactics at The Fire.

Cobra Skulls. Photos by Blake Larson

The only thing I love more than getting punched in the back of my head by a midget is a good show with fellow writer, Sean. In short, the Cobra Skulls played last night at The Fire and they killed it. Philly locals Dirty Tactics and Luther rounded out the show with massively impressive performances. Catch the full review, set list, and midget story after the jumpity jump jump.

Taco Tuesday Review 3: The Final Tacoing (alternate title: Tacopocolypse! (altnerate title B: Taco Taco Taco))

It has become startlingly clear that someone or something does not want this article to be completed. First, the final segment of Taco Tuesday Review was postponed for a week because apparently my girlfriend has too refined of a palette for a birthday dinner of one dollar tacos at a dive bar. Sorry, princess. That one I chalked up to life getting in the way of tacos. Thats gonna happen sometimes. I let it go. I kept my cool. But then, one week later, Barbarella ends their Taco Tuesday special without even telling me. Read on after the jump.

Friday Night at The Ox: NERRRRD ALERRRT!

Friday night at The Ox was jam packed for the Anamanaguchi show. X Hunters opened, followed by Good Luck and Slingshot Dakota. Where were you? Were you THERE? I specifically instructed you, my little darlings, to be there Friday night. Check out the full review after the jump.