Karaoke nights: The show must go on

Karaoke is a guaranteed success, says Phil Mellows.

By the end of the show the pub was a hot terrine of 200 sweating bodies pressed against the stage, twisting upwards in an air electrified by a voice that swooped and soared, crying of rivers deep and mountains high.

I have to admit I was scared. There were mothers here. And you can't reason with mothers. I had agreed to be one of the judges at the final of the Charles Wells karaoke contest on the promise of free nuts. But now I was having second thoughts. Somebody's dream fluttered nervously in my hand. I had to decide whether to crush it or let it fly. And behind them stood their mum. In the face of that, could I play god?

Earlier that evening, standing at the bar of the Territorial in Huntingdon, my thoughts, stupidly, had been only for the nuts. I noticed a man, a big man, was leaning over the judge's table, scooping up nuts with a hand like a 48-ounce steak, done medium rare.

"I think somebody's stealing our nuts," I said to Mandy Black, who has organised this event since its inception five years ago.

"Oh that's all right," she said. "That's Fats Domino. He's one of the judges."

Fats, as it turned out, used to be Greg Lawrence before he won Stars in their Eyes. He is now a full-time Fats Domino, singing around the world - and judging karaoke contests.

He quickly made me aware of what I had let myself in for. "There will be people on stage tonight who think they can turn professional, who want to be a star," he growled. "True, I was a karaoke king. But it was always just a bit of fun for me. Take it too seriously and you get hurt."

For the 12 finalists whose fate lay in the hands of Fats, me and the rest of the panel this was a T-junction at the end of a long road that had begun back in January.

Hundreds of singers had taken the stage at 30 of Charles Wells' pubs. The heats had sifted the best into three regional finals and from there the big one. For the winner the prize was a weekend for two in New York - and, maybe, fame.

Each would sing twice and be marked on each performance according to four criteria: vocal excellence, performance and presentation, entertainment value and star quality.

All too soon, compere Tony Barclay was introducing the first act. After the first three singers I had begun to establish some benchmarks.

It wasn't easy. Was a hat worth an extra point under presentation?

Then came Carla McCormack. Carla was the Cecil B de Mille of karaoke, starting with an earthquake and working up to a climax. She was cooking. She grabbed hold of the audience, diced it up and flung it in a deep-fat fryer of delight.

Even Fats was taken by surprise. "I've run out of points," he groaned. Suddenly, all bets were off. But Carla was not to go unchallenged.

There was Hayley, sensual, choking with emotion, and Sean, setting himself apart with a laid-back approach. Then there was Dave, who, like Carla, chose to seize the audience by the throat. Or rather with his throat. That, along with a pair of sparkly trousers, took him into a close second by my scoring.

By half-time it was still anybody's contest. "Usually there are one or two who might be able to make it professionally, but there are five or six here tonight," said Fats.

There was no let-up in the second round of songs. For a moment Carla seemed to have sewn it up with another awesome performance. But what was this? Laid-back Sean was on stage with a painted face, belting out Robbie Williams' Let Me Entertain You. Yes please, said the audience.

Meanwhile, Fats had taken a sudden shine to Vicky, whose second half tactics brought a flirty performance of Madonna's hanky-spanky song. His conscience visibly grappled with her leather-clad rump.

The set was closed, perfectly, by Frank with My Way. He wasn't going to win, a dodgy throat had seen to that on the night, and, as Frank was 67, it was unlikely that his mum would be in fighting shape. But his song said it all for the guts and the spirit of the rest of the finalists.

Tension mounted as the scores were added up. After an age, Tony announced the result. Sean had stormed through to take third and a cheque for £100.

Dave's irrepressible performance of Shake a Tail Feather had secured second and £200. By then everyone knew who had won it. Carla took the stage one more time. River Deep, Mountain High lifted the roof and the audience, already wild, went some place beyond wild.

There was joy, there was tears. This had been the best of nights, the worst of nights. Drained, Fats and me shook hands amidst the pandemonium, wondering what we had done. Now we could only wait for the mothers. They know where we live.

Hit the right note:​

• Hire a reputable karaoke operator. Make sure they use licensed material only. You won't need a public performance licence and they will give you a more professional event
• Get a public entertainment licence. Local authorities are getting more strict on this and you could be liable for a fine if you don't
• Choose a quiet night and, if you have regular karaoke events, stick to it
• Promote the event using posters and chalkboards
• Try to get at least 10 people who are willing to sing.

Sing, then you're winning​

You may not like it but there are two reasons why karaoke isn't going to go away. Firstly people love to sing. Secondly there is loads of money in it for pubs.

If anything, karaoke is going through a boom at the moment. Pop Idol and other television talent shows have sown seeds of hope among the general population. If Will and Gareth can do it, the reasoning goes, maybe I can too.

Bedford-based Tony Barclay, a singer himself and Charles Wells' recommended karaoke operator, is convinced the phenomenon is here to stay.

"Everyone wants to be a star - and how else can that desire find expression?" he said. "It also gives singers a chance to practise, and to do it in front of an audience.

"There are karaoke addicts you see all the time on the circuit but the strength of it is that it attracts such a wide range of people."

Tony's advice to publicans thinking of introducing karaoke nights is to persevere. "You may have your quiet nights at first, but interest will grow if you promote it and you are enthusiastic about it yourself - for the sake of the returns it can give you if not for the singing.

"Also, not all pubs suit karaoke. It does do your head in after a while and on my nights off I tend to avoid it. But in the right venue it can make you a lot of money."

One of the factors that means karaoke is so well suited to pubs is that it attracts such a mixed bunch of people. Entrants in the Charles Wells contest were all ages and a 50-50 split between men and women - reflected in the final.

Tony believes such competitions themselves help to fuel the interest and for Peter Wells, retail marketing manager at the brewer, the event has become an important element in his campaign to boost trade in the estate.

This year it was also sponsored by Muse in a bid to promote the company's range of pre-mixed cocktails.

"My philosophy is that our pubs should only be interested in activity which increases footfall, that increases their overall business," he explained.

"Promotions like scratchcards only shift consumption from one brand to another.

"The positive thing about karaoke is that it's such an easy mechanic. It attracts a range of age groups as well as both sexes and it can bring in a lot of people on a quiet night.

"For the final, the Territorial had five times as many people in as it would usually do on a Wednesday night, so you can see what that means if you multiply that across the 121 nights that made up the contest.

"It also produces a great atmosphere. With that many people in the room tempers could reach boiling point, but that never happen