Sinatra Song Often Strikes Deadly Chord
Superdave
Jes Aznar for The New York Times
By NORIMITSU ONISHI
Published: February 6, 2010
GENERAL SANTOS, the Philippines � After a day of barbering, Rodolfo
Gregorio went to his neighborhood karaoke bar still smelling of talcum
powder. Putting aside his glass of Red Horse Extra Strong beer, he
grasped a microphone with a habitu�s self-assuredness and briefly
stilled the room with the Platters� �My Prayer.�
Next, he belted out crowd-pleasers by Tom Jones and Engelbert
Humperdinck. But Mr. Gregorio, 63, a witness to countless fistfights
and occasional stabbings erupting from disputes over karaoke singing,
did not dare choose one beloved classic: Frank Sinatra�s version of
�My Way.�
�I used to like �My Way,� but after all the trouble, I stopped singing
it,� he said. �You can get killed.�
The authorities do not know exactly how many people have been killed
warbling �My Way� in karaoke bars over the years in the Philippines,
or how many fatal fights it has fueled. But the news media have
recorded at least half a dozen victims in the past decade and includes
them in a subcategory of crime dubbed the �My Way Killings.�
The killings have produced urban legends about the song and left
Filipinos groping for answers. Are the killings the natural byproduct
of the country�s culture of violence, drinking and machismo? Or is
there something inherently sinister in the song?
Whatever the reason, many karaoke bars have removed the song from
their playbooks. And the country�s many Sinatra lovers, like Mr.
Gregorio here in this city in the southernmost Philippines, are
practicing self-censorship out of perceived self-preservation.
Karaoke-related killings are not limited to the Philippines. In the
past two years alone, a Malaysian man was fatally stabbed for hogging
the microphone at a bar and a Thai man killed eight of his neighbors
in a rage after they sang John Denver�s �Take Me Home, Country Roads.�
Karaoke-related assaults have also occurred in the United States,
including at a Seattle bar where a woman punched a man for singing
Coldplay�s �Yellow� after criticizing his version.
Still, the odds of getting killed during karaoke may be higher in the
Philippines, if only because of the ubiquity of the pastime. Social
get-togethers invariably involve karaoke. Stand-alone karaoke machines
can be found in the unlikeliest settings, including outdoors in rural
areas where men can sometimes be seen singing early in the morning.
And Filipinos, who pride themselves on their singing, may have a lower
tolerance for bad singers.
Indeed, most of the �My Way� killings have reportedly occurred after
the singer sang out of tune, causing other patrons to laugh or jeer.
�The trouble with �My Way,� � said Mr. Gregorio, �is that everyone
knows it and everyone has an opinion.�
Others, noting that other equally popular tunes have not provoked
killings, point to the song itself. The lyrics, written by Paul Anka
for Mr. Sinatra as an unapologetic summing up of his career, are about
a tough guy who �when there was doubt,� simply �ate it up and spit it
out.� Butch Albarracin, the owner of Center for Pop, a Manila-based
singing school that has propelled the careers of many famous singers,
was partial to what he called the �existential explanation.�
� �I did it my way� � it�s so arrogant,� Mr. Albarracin said. �The
lyrics evoke feelings of pride and arrogance in the singer, as if
you�re somebody when you�re really nobody. It covers up your failures.
That�s why it leads to fights.�
Defenders of �My Way� say it is a victim of its own popularity.
Because it is sung more often than most songs, the thinking goes,
karaoke-related violence is more likely to occur while people are
singing it. The real reasons behind the violence are breaches of
karaoke etiquette, like hogging the microphone, laughing at someone�s
singing or choosing a song that has already been sung.
�The Philippines is a very violent society, so karaoke only triggers
what already exists here when certain social rules are broken,� said
Roland B. Tolentino, a pop culture expert at the University of the
Philippines. But even he hedged, noting that the song�s �triumphalist�
nature might contribute to the violence.
Some karaoke lovers are not taking chances, not even at family
gatherings.
In Manila, Alisa Escanlar, 33, and her relatives invariably gather
before a karaoke machine, but they banned �My Way� after an uncle,
listening to a friend sing the song at a bar, became enraged at the
laughter coming from the next table. The uncle, who was a police
officer, pulled out his revolver, after which the customers at the
next table quietly paid their bill and left.
Awash in more than one million illegal guns, the Philippines has long
suffered from all manner of violence, from the political to the
private. Wary middle-class patrons gravitate to karaoke clubs with
cubicles that isolate them from strangers.
But in karaoke bars where one song costs 5 pesos, or a tenth of a
dollar, strangers often rub shoulders, sometimes uneasily. A subset of
karaoke bars with G.R.O.�s � short for guest relations officers, a
euphemism for female prostitutes � often employ gay men, who are seen
as neutral, to defuse the undercurrent of tension among the male
patrons. Since the gay men are not considered rivals for the women�s
attention � or rivals in singing, which karaoke machines score and
rank � they can use humor to forestall macho face-offs among the
patrons.
In one such bar in Quezon City, next to Manila, patrons sing karaoke
at tables on the first floor and can accompany a G.R.O. upstairs.
Fights often break out when customers at one table look at another
table �the wrong way,� said Mark Lanada, 20, the manager.
�That�s the biggest source of tension,� Mr. Lanada said. �That�s why
every place like this has a gay man like me.�
Ordinary karaoke bars, like the Nelson Carenderia here, a single room
with bare plywood walls, mandate that a singer give up the microphone
after three consecutive songs.
On one recent evening, at the table closest to the karaoke machine,
Edwin Lancaderas, 62, crooned a Tagalog song, �Fight Temptation� �
about a married man forgoing an affair with a woman while taking
delight in their �stolen moments.� His friend Dindo Auxlero, 42, took
the mike next, bawling songs by the Scorpions and Dire Straits.
Several empty bottles of Red Horse crowded their table.
�In the Philippines, life is difficult,� said Mr. Auxlero, who repairs
watches from a street kiosk, as he railed about government corruption
and a weak economy that has driven so many Filipinos to work overseas,
including his wife, who is a maid in Lebanon. �But, you know, we have
a saying: �Don�t worry about your problems. Let your problems worry
about you.� �
The two men roared with laughter.
�That�s why we come here every night � to clear the excesses from our
heads,� Mr. Lancaderas said, adding, however, that the two always
adhered to karaoke etiquette and, of course, refrained from singing
�My Way.�
�Misunderstanding and jealousy,� in his view, were behind the �My Way�
killings. �I just hope it doesn�t happen here,� he said.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/07/world/asia/07karaoke.html?th&emc=th