REVIEW: Dooleys Pub re-visited

EXCLUSIVE where2sing.com KARAOKE GIG REVIEW

I was here last night, here and watching the regulars play out their lives in what appeared like an episode of a TV soap opera - the host exchanging longing looks with his intended, Miss 'stone face', and sometimes sharing moments of passion, and the mousy girl pouring out her own passions in her song choices until her Mr Liquid left, never to return. And, of course, I was here for the karaoke.

That was Friday. This is Saturday.

On Saturdays, Brisbane's Fortitude Valley is full on. Goth is the order of the day, or rather the night, but it is not exclusively Goth. Well dressed and tall girls in pairs strut down the street discussing where to go first, and everyone seems to be on a mission. I think the sheer numbers of people rivals the city centre, and buildings that I've seen lie abandoned for years have been suddenly given a coat of paint and a trendy name, and the addition of a neandershal bouncer with a bit of carpet and a couple of free-standing posts and red cord appropriate for marshalling an orderly line of those wishing to gain entry seems to have had the desired effect by bringing an orderly line of those who wish to gain entry.

But I skirt these places, for I'm headed again this night to Dooleys - or rather, its Kilkenny bar just a bit further from the corner than the main pub. I can hear the karaoke as I approach, and it's a raucous, off-key female voice. As I walk through the door I'm surprised to see only half a dozen people inside, for it is already nearly eleven o'clock, and the barstaff had told me to expect it to busier on Saturdays.

But wait - the 'KJ in love' has been replaced by a girl. And the equipment is different, no little TV for the singer, so all that remains is the pub TV stuck up high in the corner of the room to serve both the audience and the singer - who must turn his back on his audience in order to follow the words.

There's a single deck player, and something that looks like a home hi-fi amplifer, and a box of discs on the windowledge. At first I think there's a single speaker sitting on a chair next to the deck and hi-fi, but then I see another stupidly small and inadequate speaker sitting on the floor near the discs. Gawd - this girl must have been able to bring in the equipment at one go, and even then I bet she had one hand free.

The sound is exactly as you'd imagine from a setup like this - I'm betting my laptop and $79 Creative speakers comes close for both volume and clarity. And I certainly don't get the feedback problems that she does. But I guess for most of those in attendance, there would be little value in providing anything better - or is it that a host gets the quality of singer for which their equipment is designed?

This being the Kilkenny bar, I order a pint of Kilkenny. The girl and boy behind the bar are the same two as last night, but somehow they seem a little less happy. I see none of last night's regulars, and I see no one with whom I'd wish (or, perhaps be silly enough) to engage in conversation. Bearing in mind that the rest of the Valley is absolutely teeming with people, I can hardly believe this place has less then 10. Or perhaps that is all that it deserves.

I see a spare songbook on a table, so I sit and open it. The foul smell is immediate, and at first I can hardly believe that a songbook can smell so rotten - this is not the smell or stickiness of recently spilled beer, but the stench of beer weeks old, or perhaps someone has urinated over the book. And, as I turn the first sodden page, and gaze at a list of other current venues with this host, I read the words that strike terror into the hearts of all . . .(full story on where2sing.com)

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