[ One of the greatest inventions of the twentieth century, in his opinion, has to be the karaoke machine. He's seen a lot of fads come and go over the years - pet rocks and mood rings, really, who would have thought - but nothing quite swept him up like the rage of the karaoke machine. It started small and modest, as most things do; a little network show with a man named Mitch and lyrics on screen you could sing along to with your family, and steadily blossomed into something households across the globe were desperate to have for their entertainment and in the palm of their very hands. At one time, dinner party entertainment had been down to the quality of conversation of those attending and perhaps a game or two if you were lucky, and now groups crowded around a tinny little microphone with heady dreams of being the next Jackson 5.
The modern era had only worked in the favour of the humble karaoke machine. Far from the hulking box of black plastic with endless cords of microphones, now the people sitting at the bars could access thousands upon thousands of songs on a system connected to the internet. Fascinating stuff. No idea how it worked. Fascinating nonetheless.
Countless tables full of people flicking through the plasticy sheets of songs available for request, and he chooses this one to sit down at, a tumbler in his hand of something dark with ice in it. He peers at the sheet with shining eyes that seem to reflect the gaudy spinning lights from the disco ball hanging above. He taps a finely manicured nail at a song about half way down the page -- Primal Scream's I'm Losing More Than I'll Ever Have. ]
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karaoke | feel free to approximate the year, i left 'modern' vague!
The modern era had only worked in the favour of the humble karaoke machine. Far from the hulking box of black plastic with endless cords of microphones, now the people sitting at the bars could access thousands upon thousands of songs on a system connected to the internet. Fascinating stuff. No idea how it worked. Fascinating nonetheless.
Countless tables full of people flicking through the plasticy sheets of songs available for request, and he chooses this one to sit down at, a tumbler in his hand of something dark with ice in it. He peers at the sheet with shining eyes that seem to reflect the gaudy spinning lights from the disco ball hanging above. He taps a finely manicured nail at a song about half way down the page -- Primal Scream's I'm Losing More Than I'll Ever Have. ]
That one is good, have you heard it?