This late-career Jackson hit was one of the last truly pleasant memories we have of the former King of Pop and will have you leaving the bar on a high note.
#Semisonic closing time karaoke free#
Michael Jackson, “Will You Be There”īetter known as the theme to the kid-friendly, orca liberation propaganda film Free Willy, this Michael Jackson diddy is the best, feel-good bar sing-along that absolutely no one knows the words to. The song’s narrator is so desperate for love, that he’s willing to go home with a woman who confuses him with other, more famous musicians. It only recently came to my attention that this is the de facto bar-closing song of many parts of the Deep South, and I understand why - it perfectly encapsulates the despair that sets in when last call is announced. David Allen Coe, “You Never Even Called Me By My Name” There is the off-chance that this song will come on at the end of the night, and you and the person you’ve been speaking to will sing it together, and the highly suggestive lyrics will convince you that yes, you should take each other home tonight. If she already wants Eddie to be her baby, why the fuck is he spending three and half minutes trying to convince her to shack up? It’s made all the stranger by the woman who coos “Be my little bay-bee” in the refrain. Money’s drunk and horny plea to a woman to take him home because he’s sad and lonely strikes the ear as pathetic and manipulative, especially in the current social climate. People are such suckers.Īpparently, this is a popular end of the night song in karaoke bars, proving once again karaoke is for tasteless dweebs. And he’s been dining out on “Sweet Caroline” for nearly 50 years now, and it’s all because of that gimmicky call-and-response in the chorus. He’s a wannabe Elvis who found a curious niche crooning schmaltzy lounge tunes that only 60-year-old divorcees enjoy. This song will definitely help clear out any bar, as there’s nothing that makes me want to leave an area faster than hearing a group of people scream “So good! So good! So good!” in unison. And to appease who? Wedding DJs are painfully unoriginal. Now every uninspired wedding DJ in the country thinks it’s a contractual requirement to play this song at least once during the reception. Pierzynski, a man voted the most-hated player in Major League Baseball in 2012 by his peers, liked to sing Journey at karaoke, and it took off from there.īut more than a dozen years later, this song has once again been overplayed to the point that it’s been stripped of every ounce of nostalgic joy.
#Semisonic closing time karaoke series#
The Chicago White Sox adopted the tune as their team anthem during their improbable World Series championship run that year, vaulting it back onto the charts 24 years after its release. There was a brief - I repeat, brief - moment in 2005 when this song’s reemergence in the culture was fun. In that vein, here are the best bar-closing songs, ranked: 12. You want a song that will bring patrons down smoothly and lovingly herds them toward the door. Yet, despite what some people say, you don’t want to play a song that’s so repulsive that it causes people to flee like madmen. And for people working at the bar, the bar-closing song is a welcome signal that their work is nearly done, and that soon these drunken assholes will be temporarily out of their lives. Hear it and you mindlessly shuffle to the exit, refocusing on after-hours plans. Such is the power of the bar-closing song - the tune that a given bar plays every night at last call, and reminds patrons that while they don’t have to go home, they can’t, in fact, stay “here.”Īttend the same bar enough, and you’ll develop a Pavlovian relationship with its chosen closing song. Like hogs to the slaughter, everyone in the room quickly and dutifully filed out of the room. Still, these people needed to leave, so I took the most extreme measure possible: I commandeered the music and played “Closing Time” (loudly). (My roommate had very specific taste.) I needed some fucking sleep, man, but no one, least of all my roommate, would listen to my pleas for quiet. Stone cold sober after a night of studying - this must have been one of those periods when I was dangerously close to flunking out, and in a fit of panic, decided to become studious for a short period of time - I was in no mood to entertain a bunch of drunks who wanted to use my room to smoke weed and listen to late-1990s gangster rap into the wee hours. (He didn’t tell me he was bringing people over, let alone ask. One night during my sophomore year of college, I came back to my small fraternity bedroom to find my dirtbag roommate hosting a random assortment of barflies, sorority girls and general layabouts he’d been out drinking with earlier that evening.
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