Oh the karaoke bar; a place where college students and other 20-somethings can gather together to get belligerent enough to make fools of themselves by belting out pop songs to an equally belligerent audience. We’re all familiar with it, and most have probably taken part in it at some point or another. It’s a scene of raucous noise and drunken dancing. It’s also often a scene of self-embarrassment and one we may regret in reminiscing that dreadful morning after. But is this boisterous social ritual the same all over the world? My experience tells me no.

Last semester I did a co-op in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, and during my time there my eyes were opened to a completely different type of karaoke night. While the general idea is the same as in the US – that is, singing along to a song whose lyrics are displayed on a screen – the social aspect of karaoke is another thing entirely.

When I was first invited to partake in a karaoke night with my Cambodian friends, I assumed the set-up would be similar to that in the States. Boy was I off the mark. Cambodia does have a small bar scene, mostly focused in the city where foreign influences have Westernized more aspects of society. But karaoke in Cambodia does not, to my surprise and ultimate chagrin, take place in these bars. Instead, Cambodians gather with friends in private karaoke rooms. You rent these rooms out for the night in popular “entertainment centers” and fill them with your own personal party – although this kind of party might even leave freshmen feeling disappointed.

First of all, the musical selection is (surprise, surprise) mostly Cambodian songs. I’m not sure if you’ve ever listened to Asian music, but it tends to differ from our American tastes on a few levels. For Cambodians, it’s all about the heartbreak. They thrive on depressing ballads depicting stories of betrayal and lost lovers. I can’t tell you how many music videos I saw that ended in a boyfriend/girlfriend being a victim of some tragic motor accident. This is the general tone of Cambodian karaoke.
Picture a dozen or so friends sitting in a circle of benches, passing around a microphone and singing song after song after song of this unfortunate nature. As the drinks start pouring, the heart-wrenching dedication that goes into singing these ballads only gets stronger.

I’m generally like the majority of Americans, discounting show-offs and small children, when it comes to karaoke. Get a few drinks in me and I’m all about it, but I probably won’t get on stage more than once. But on this particular instance in Cambodia, I couldn’t sing enough. I mean really, who wants to spend their Friday night listening to their tone-deaf friends doing renditions of “My Heart Will Go On” and “I Will Always Love You” in a language that they hardly understand? Not this girl.

So I did what any self-respecting foreigner would do and took it upon myself to spice the night up and throw in as many upbeat numbers as possible. I even blessed my friends and adoring audience with some dorky dance moves, and got a few of them to get over their signature Cambodian shyness and groove with me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so enthusiastic about singing karaoke, and I pray that I never am again.

Even though I’m not the biggest fan of our American version of karaoke, after my experience with it in Cambodia I have a new-found appreciation for the ridiculousness of it all. So let’s all take a lesson from those tragic Cambodian ballads and not take karaoke too seriously, okay? Otherwise I may have to have a repeat of my intervention in Phnom Penh, and none of us really want that.

– Annie Henderson can be reached at [email protected].