Karaoke with a ukulele twang

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Ukulele ladies: Martha, centre, and members of the KaraUke troupe

Who said small instruments couldn't make a big noise?

The teeny-tiny Hawaiian ukulele is making large waves across our little island, with indie bands from Devon to Dundee taking it to their hearts.

And at the crest of the splash is the Ukulele Orchestra Of Great Britain, an eight-strong gang who are taking their twanging to the masses.

My love affair began a couple of years ago when that very gaggle of “ukeologists” serenaded us at The Big Chill festival with a rendition of Smells Like Teen Spirit that could've cheered up even Kurt Cobain.

Now I am delighted to report that the itty-bitty instrument is causing a kerfuffle on the London club scene.

KaraUke is a new monthly night of karaoke, with added ukuleles, in the basement bar of Hoxton Square's Zigfrid Von Underbelly.

Founder Lorraine Bow, a ukulele aficionado first inspired and then taught by the UOGB, started a ukulele jam night in Soho.

Two years on and the players were getting itchy feet.

“We wanted to form a band but none of us could sing so we were limited in what we could do,” she explains.

Naturally, if other people sang, this problem vanished. And so KaraUke was born.

Who wouldn't want to sing with the backing of 15 ukuleles?

I just had to try it and headed east with some pals.

After paying a measly £5 to get in and £12.50 for a bottle of house white, we perched on a table at the front of the room and snuggled down to enjoy a handful of cabaret acts, warming the stage and setting the evening's tone: very silly.

First up was the opera-warbling Baroness Tamara Von Stein Zu Leitershofen who, bedecked in jewels, silk, fur and tiaras, hoisted some poor unsuspecting soul from his seat and demanded he serenade his girlfriend with an aria, even when it became clear that his girlfriend was, in fact, his sister.

While the KaraUke song list did the rounds we were wooed by Uke Must Be Kidding, a three-piece whose electric uke medley slipped daintily between You Spin Me Round, Don't You Want Me, Fame, Blue Monday and Killing Me Softly.

They set the bar pretty high. I had to dart around the room (growing packed with groups of skinny-jeaned boys and pretty girls) to find the song list in order to change our pick (Don't You Want Me) for something that hadn't been done (Be My Baby).

Someone else who set the bar higher was the first KaraUkeing member of the public, my friend Sam, whose girlfriend Harriet had secretly nominated him to sing The Jungle Book's I Wanna Be Like You.

When his name was hollered he rolled his eyes but sprang on stage with the confident air of someone who had done all this before.

As Sam twirled the microphone and bounded around the stage like Baloo, we watched the crowd's faces flitter between hand-clappy joy and absolute fear. How to top this?

Well. There was Dimitri who chose to execute Wild Thing with the growling, hip-swiggling innuendo of a certified sex pest and Bruno who took on Crocodile Rock.

Harriet stomped and whomped through These Boots Were Made For Walking, while Gareth opted to shriek New York, New York so loud that I swear Manhattan could hear him.

And as for Becky, Emma and I? Well, we sang Dirty Dancing favourite Be My Baby with sheer volume and a slice of greed by singing all the parts — even the harmonies which the KaraUke band were performing for us.

We even ignored their count-in intro, pelting into the song headfirst and watching 15 ukulele players racing to catch up.

Once I had begged (and failed) to be allowed back on stage for a second offering (they are only open until 1am) we made our way home, musing on what to perform next time.

I have a feeling that Depeche Mode's Enjoy The Silence won't be on the bill next Thursday — but I'll be there to check.

 

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