Saturday, September 11, 2010

KTV



In Oracle Bones, Peter Hessler’s second book about living and working in modern China, one of the author’s best students writes to him and asks several questions. The first is “What does KTV stand for?”

It’s a good question, but I think the student is really the teacher on this one. I think any Chinese person knows more about KTV than most Americans. An American can say is what the letters stand for in English, but simply saying Karaoke Television is not enough to explain what KTV really is. To begin with KTV is no one thing that is the same wherever you go in China. But KTV is wherever you go in China, at least in the Shenyang region. Some KTV is on an imperial scale, bombastic with glittering chandeliers, plush carpets, and mirror-encrusted stairways.


Other KTV joints are dank, sticky-floored places that have rooms up dirty flights of stairs that under normal circumstances would so fill you with forebodings of unhealthy and criminal behavior that you wouldn’t climb them unless you were on a mission to save some innocent from their misguided fall into drug-induced human trafficking. They’re that bad.


The area around school has three KTVs that I know of. I’ve been to two of them. They are closer to the latter extreme than the former, but even these two have some differences.

Place 1: Several SPA teachers have musical skills and interests. When they found out about KTV they immediately planned an outing. One of our Chinese staff members helped us with the “how-does-this-all-work” details and we were off and running. The way it worked was like this, for 200 rmb (about $30) we got two hours in a room big enough for 10 people, with 6 big bottles of beer, non-alcoholic wine, and snacks. The room had a console for choosing songs, a big screen for projecting the videos and lyrics, and an assortment of lights that filled the room with patterns and designs disco-style. The microphones were wireless and at some point one of the proprietors came in and gave one of teachers some flowers. After two hours of son et lumiere we couldn’t call it quits. Additional half hours were 50 rmb, drinks and food were pay as you go. We stayed another hour. John did The Gambler for the first time in China. Kelly did a powerful Alannis Morrisette song. Maggie did anything she wanted to and did it well. Jackie tackled Respect and I led a rousing rendition of Ramblin’ Man.


A week or so later we went back.

This time Place 1 was full. We decided to investigate Place 2.

Place 2: From the outside there was little to distinguish Place 2 from Place 1. They both had the standard LED-lit façade that is the hallmark of KTV. Both had the open door, the front counter, and the hall leading back to the karaoke rooms. Place 2 had a cluster of young people at the counter and they turned and offered us the traditional “hello.” As we stammered through our opening “how much?” and “how long?” questions, a chubby gal detached herself from the others and, with energetic smiles, waves, and other universal signs of taking charge, led us down the hall and up two flights of stairs. Yes, these were the kind of stairs described above; the kind of stairs that exist in the nighttowns of every city. Even though we all felt a collective shudder as we followed our hostess, our number and our refusal to back down filled us with a jokey bravado--“Would this be a ‘special’ karaoke?” “Did you see something in that last room we just passed?” At last we arrived at a stuffy room on the third floor. For the same price as Place 1 we got a room with no lighting effects, a floor that hadn’t felt the touch of a mop in many a month, microphones on cords, no food or drink included, and a fraction of the song selection found at Place 1. Nonetheless we managed have a blast. Jackie reprised Respect. John tackled The Gambler again. Kelly and Maggie sang the lights out of any song they chose. We had employees of the establishment peering in the door window at us as we tore our way through another three hours of songs and beers. On the way home we joked about how the Mongolian Grill could be our spot for post-party food, the Shenyang equivalent of an IHOP.


About a week later I was walking back from a shopping errand when I heard a “Hello” from a doorway. One of the young men from KTV Place 1 was greeting me. I decided to follow up. With drawing and acting I managed to convey that we’d like to return to his establishment that Friday. I think he understood and was even promising to hold a room for us. I got his business card and asked one of the Chinese staff at school to confirm our arrangement the next day. Jessie No Guo called and spoke to Place 1’s owner. They would reserve a room for us for 9:00 pm, but it would be wise to confirm the reservation Friday afternoon. It is not normal practice here for people to reserve KTV rooms.

Come Friday all worked out well. We even had some newbies join us. Naima easily handled everything from Michael Jackson to the Eagles. John repeated his dominance of The Gambler. It’s getting so that no KTV outing is complete without that Kenny Rogers gem. I did an homage to John Slattery by performing King of the Road. The best performance however, was Amos’ umbrella assisted dance to accompany Abba’s Dancing Queen.

I never appreciated those Swedish popsters so much. Meanwhile Tescha discovered that the non-alcoholic wine made a passable mixer for the commie booze that could be bought next door. I didn’t try it but those that did said its faint pineapple flavor was reminiscent of some SpongeBob Squarepants concoction. Poor Andy overdid it a bit and regretted it the next day when the van’s bumping and weaving on the trip into town forced him to spend a good part of the ride with his head out the window.

Now how can you fully answer the question, “What does KTV mean in English?”