Katie Holland: Some sounds are better left unheard

PHOTO/FILE

A CERTAIN friend of mine has a shameful secret. When he's alone and no one's around, he likes to belt out Cher and Celine Dion at the top of his lungs.

I discovered his dirty secret this week when, at the end of a night out, one thing led to another. No, not that kind of one thing leading to another! The iPhone docked in the stereo on shuffle led to selecting favourite songs from the iPhone docked in the stereo which then led to turning on the laptop to select all-time favourite songs from Spotify.

And before we knew it it was 5am and I was literally hoarse. It's lucky the neighbours didn't call noise control, especially during the heartfelt and emotional version of Turn Back Time or the never fails to please American Pie (it may be 8m 33s long but somehow you just know all the words). Though I would have loved to see the look on the enforcement officers' faces when they realised it was just us in PJs, 1990s power ballads and a laptop.

It was the musical version of one thing leading to the other. From semi-acceptable background music to full-blown private karaoke.

I've never been one for karaoke, despite coming of age at a time when it became big in New Zealand. The peak of my singing career was successfully auditioning for the primary school choir with a touching version of I Believe the Children are the Future. It was all downhill from there.

Now the only times I sing in public are doing the national anthem at All Black tests and church. Which has been once in the past 20 years or so.

Back in uni days there were a couple of all-you-could-eat Chinese restaurants where you could BYO wine and do karaoke. Quite the combination. While the others were fighting over the microphone I'd be the one sneaking off for a fifth helping of spring rolls. I was a hungry student, had to get my money's worth.

So it was with some trepidation I had my first experience of karaoke in Rotorua recently at the legendary Mo's Bar. There's a saying that what goes on tour stays on tour and in this instance what goes on at Mo's Bar should stay in Mo's Bar. Let's just say a certain friend (not the Cher-loving one, I have at least two friends, honest) gave a masterful rendition of Elvis' Suspicious Minds. With a mulleted man giving it the full welly beside him, and a bevy of beautiful back-up singers and dancers it was an impressive performance.

Needless to say the video footage will remain a closely guarded secret, to be brought out only if the need arises for blackmail.

I resisted any temptation to take to the stage myself, besides I was too busy digging into the chips. I was a hungry journalist, had to get my money's worth.

For now I will stick to singing in the shower, screeching above the vacuum and alone in the car. If you pull up beside Larry Laser at the traffic lights around town and see me rocking out in the driver's seat, do join in. Just don't wind down the window. Trust me, you won't want to hear it.