Band Hero (or Rock Band, I never can remember)

I love karaoke. I love it almost as much as you love imagining sexual congress with your boss. But I don't get to do it very often. Maybe twice a year or so, I don't know.
But my cousin invited me over to his house a month or so back to play Band Hero (or Rock Band, I never can remember) on his X-Box, and that was surprisingly like karaoke.* His wife and I sang stuff while he played the guitar and his brother played the drums or bass. I tried the drums, but apparently, I am white, and rhythm-free.

Not to be outdone, my buddy Jeff told me his kids had demanded he get them Rock Band (or Band Hero, I never can remember) for their Wii game system, and the other day, he invited me over to participate. His wife and I took turns singing songs while his kids played their instruments, and despite his ten year old's inclination to pick really really awful songs, it was a lot of fun.

I think there was a point to all this, but I can't remember it right now.

I consider myself a pretty good singer. And whether I actually am or not doesn't dissuade me from getting up there and belting it out, especially if you've been drinking. But singing on Band Hero (or Rock Band, I never can remember) with Jeff's kids did show me that I have my limitations, such as the ability to match exactly how the computer wants me to sing a song, like one of those audience members that wants the band they're seeing in concert to replicate the album tracks precisely. Another thing I learned was, though I thought I was familiar with the tune "Kung Fu Fighting," I'd never actually heard the song all the way through.

Most memorable, though, was when the kids were trying really hard to get a high score, and Emily (Jeff's wife) handed me the microphone to tackle, I believe, "Sultans of Swing." As I sang, the computer registered wrong note after wrong note. Finally, we were booed off the stage because of my performance.

We started again and I redoubled my efforts. From the first note, the computer was unhappy with my singing. "What's going on?" I asked Jeff. "You're off-key," he said. "You're too low," said his twelve year old. "You're an ass-wipe," said his ten year old, disgusted when our band was booed off the stage again and forced to tour Canadian coffeehouses with a Darius Rucker-free Hootie & the Blowfish.

My score on both rounds was 0.0%.

Well, Jeff got up to check the connections and I punched his son in the kidneys, and then we discovered that the mic had shorted out when Emily had handed it over. All we had to do was restart, and I was back to Celine Dioning with the best of them. Rock Band (or Band Hero, I never can remember) is fun.So, the next time you feel like complaining about my singing . . . there's a problem with the mic.

Rish "Rock Band Hero" Outfield

*But more like a video game I played once where two players had to compete in a karaoke-type singing contest, and the winner got a t-shirt . . . which of course I then sold on eBay.