ALL KEYED UP

First, a definition. A singalong bar is not to be confused with a piano bar. Yes, both have pianos. Both have pianists. Both have bars. But in a singalong bar like Alley Cats or Gator’s, you are the show. Down with passive onlooking. Away with elitist notions of pitch, key, and tone. Most of your fellow belters couldn’t carry a tune if they passed out garbage bags, but nobody worries about sounding like Tony Bennett The point is to get loose and howl out an off-color version of “You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me, Lucille. “

What you won’t hear in a singalong bar: “Darling, didn’t you love that tasteful, brisk arpeggio?”

What you will hear in a singalong bar: “Okay now, grab another o’those big ol’ orange drinks ’cause we’re gonna do ’Rawhide’ and this time that side of the room gets to be the cowboys and the other side is the cows! Ready, cowboys? Heeeeeeeyaaaaaaaahhhhhhh” (add whip noise)!!!! “Okay you cows! Muuuu-uuuuuuuuuooooooooooooohhhhhh!!!!”

What you’ll also hear: lots of Billy Joel, “New York, New York” in every set, and every bad television theme song you had almost gotten out of your mind. Yes, “The Flintstones. ” Yes, even “Green Acres. “So if there’s a secret, repressed ham behind your placid demeanor, check your dignity at the door. You’ll have a great time. A yabba dabba doo time, in fact.