Amateur hour: Studio Café

By Tod Caviness and Lindsay Fraser

February 11, 2008

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Lost among the fliers for next week's electrofad hip-hop night and martini bar swizzle sticks is a form of entertainment that's so hip there's not even an English word for it.

Join Metromix Orlando's stalwart undercover operatives as we explore the dark underbelly of Orlando's karaoke scene, one dive at a time.

Lindsay: You remember how you felt when you first got to high school: “What? You mean not everyone is either a jock or a nerd? You mean there are nerd jocks and jock nerds and drama kids who will befriend anything that breathes out of a deep-seated yearning for attention?” That’s exactly the kind of conflicted I was about karaoke at Studio Café.

Tod: What can I say? The world don’t move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for you might not be right for some. Which is my polite way of saying that this is the perfect place to practice your mastery of TV theme songs or show tunes. We want you to think long and hard about that before going.
 

Décor

Lindsay: Christmas lights stay up year-round, and there’s no room to walk despite too few chairs. On the one hand the atmosphere screams, “Calling all kids too young to hang out at bars and aging hippies with DUIs! Drink your coffee and eat your paninis here!” On the other, they sell booze.

Tod: For a strip mall coffee shop, this place is first-rate. However, it also has a coffee shop’s lighting scheme. Now, I wouldn’t say that many karaoke singers are shaggy mole creatures who dress like David Allan Coe’s homeless cousin. That would be mean. But I would say there’s a reason we do this in dim bowling alley bars. Luckily, the crowd was pretty much the same type you’d find here during the day. Maybe a little gayer.

Clientele

Lindsay: This one I really couldn’t figure out. There was a gentleman who seemed very fond of Bob Seger, a young lady who wanted desperately to be the next Carrie Underwood, another young lady who wanted desperately to be the young lady who desperately wanted to be Carrie Underwood, a gentleman who wanted to be the next Fraulein Sally Bowles, a lumberjack of some kind who stared intently at the screen with mouth slightly agape no matter what was going on … and all seemed to enjoy our rendition of the Beastie Boys’ “Fight for Your Right.”

Tod: Because we rawk, that’s why. I expected to have to fight for the right to do that song, but it was more of a cordial negotiation. There were so many divas in the audience, it’s possible they appreciated a little meathead break. I’d use that strategy sparingly in the future, mind you.

Drinks

Lindsay: Again, baffling… Yuengling counts as an import, but “imports” are only $3.50. Really makes you think about how much trouble it must be to get a product all the way down to Orlando from Pennsylvania.

Tod: I’m with our girl Kelly Fitzpatrick on this one. The next bar menu I see that lists Yuengling as an import, I’m gonna edit it with a flamethrower. (She will also brain me if I neglect to mention that the place is non-smoking.) The wine selection was pretty reasonable, though you might need more than usual to get you onstage here.

Song Selection

Lindsay: DJ Di also hosts at Big Daddy’s, so the selection is pretty much the same (which is to say very good … if anyone else out there has been looking for the Cyndi Lauper version of “I Drove All Night,” look no further.)

Tod: Di’s songbook is as packed as I remember, and Di herself is a damn good reason for the joint being just as packed. Not many DJs can get away with calling a crowd like this a bunch of bitches repeatedly (as in “Drink up bitches!” “Smoke break, bitches!”). But wait, we were talking about song selection, right? Whatever. There wasn’t enough Creedence, but that’s pretty much a universal truth.

 
Talent

Lindsay: Overall I found both DJ Di and the crowd fun and versatile. But if you’re planning on doing “We Didn’t Start the Fire” (which means you plan much, much further ahead than I do), be warned that Di detests the song and will make cracks like, “One day Billy Joel got drunk and opened an encyclopedia…” 

Tod: In case we weren’t clear, this isn’t a bar. You can’t hide out at the Megatouch machine. Either you’re here to karaoke or you’re curled up in a fetal position in the bathroom. I saw a man get off the mic and immediately hand in another song chit from a handful he was clutching like a lottery ticket. Your chances of making lifelong friends here or re-examining your life path are about even on any given night. Me, I had fun.

Studio Cafe hosts its Karaoke night every Wednesday from 9 p.m. - 1 a.m.