by Will Bishop
Distant billowing walls of fog roll gently in the distance as I enter the warm glow of Richards’ Goat Tavern & Tea Room. I’m early and the place is sparsely populated. The goats are more satanic than usual, and little skeleton guys hang from various lighting fixtures. As they say, “at The Goat it’s all about the goats.” No one has actually said that, but I just did, so now someone does. I am here with a purpose – an impossible task. One that might be considered by some to be completely unnecessary, dumb or pointless. But those people are haters, and tonight is all about silencing the haters. Tonight is Thursday night, karaoke night, one of two weekly occurrences hosted by The Goat, and I am here to review it.
Holy Diver by Seana: An early and obvious highlight courtesy of one of The Goat’s elite performers. Dressed in a pink tutu and wielding a guitar made out of cardboard, fabric and dreams – Seana delivers a blistering operatic falsetto rendition of Dio’s classic metal masterwork. Like a warbling siren at the edge of a raging sea, it sounds absolutely unhinged — a transportive and transfixing experience. For a brief moment, as Seana wails and shreds her cloth axe, you can imagine her high on a mountainside, commanding legions of the damned with a voice that could cut stone.
Exit Music (For a Film) by Sway: As the moody dystopian atmosphere of Ok Computer casts a pall of late nineties branded existential fear on the room, Sway jests, “So somber, I guess this is important,” and like, yeah, Sway — it’s Radiohead. It’s obviously the most serious and important music ever for people who are like, way serious and mega important and who ponder the greatest and coolest questions of the universe. Sway requests more reverb – an exciting choice. As he tries to accomplish the unaccomplishable goal of being Thom Yorke, he hits various walls and runs out of air in his pipes leading to a fascinating phenomenon. Something I have coined, “The Laugh of Galactic Terror.” The reverb elevates from what is simply laughter at one’s own inability to be Thom Yorke to something much higher and more sinister and pretty epic.
Unsteady by E: This was just really extremely good, like god damn E. I don’t know this song. I don’t even like it honestly, but the man has the voice of an angel. His voice sounds like a pure force of light and goodness shining against the darkness of a cruel world. His voice is like a beam emerging from deep space that could heal anything in its path. His voice sounds like the archnemesis of, “The Laugh of Galactic Terror.”
United States of Whatever by Cash: An immediate followup to E’s stirring performance, Cash arrived charged with E’s light, gently crooning the lyrics to Unsteady. Wearing sunglasses, a baseball cap and shoes that look like the bastard offspring of Crocs and slides — I’m not up on Croc culture, maybe those exist now. Cash claims to have never heard this song in his life; he knew all of the words. Cash is a punk rock icon and one of humanity’s greatest warriors. At least, that’s how I felt until later in the evening when he returned to the stage to perform Radioactive by Imagine Dragons, which is an unforgivable sin and docks him four “humanity’s greatest warrior” points. It’s Kendrick at the VMAs all over again. Why must my heroes always betray me?
For more stirring performances from these stars and beyond, come on down to Richards’ Goat Tavern & Tea Room every Thursday and Sunday from 8:30 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. Also, be over 21.
Will Bishop is a Cal Poly Humboldt journalism major. He is prone to writing essays about things that bother him, and fictional works about things that also bother him but in different ways. A highly bothered individual, and a lover of cinema, music, and large trees/rocks, he can often be found in the woods, dancing to bring down the sky.
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