To the Asian community in Vegas, the businesses on Spring Mountain between Jones and Valley View represent more than a quaint Chinatown by day—they're also home to a growing nightlife culture. And the center of the entertainment lies in the honored, and frequently off-key, art of karaoke.
Many traditional restaurants that spend days and early evenings serving dim sum or kimchi turn on the disco balls and stage lights at night and transform themselves into high-energy hangouts.
One such place is Marnee Thai restaurant.
Sporting a deceptively plain storefront, this popular kitchen turns into a frenzied concert hall late at night, when the karaoke mics come out, usually after 10 p.m. The crowd sits at tables and nibbles at pad thai or chicken curry, imbibes a seemingly endless stream of liquor and breaks into homegrown versions of Thai pop hits that rattle the walls, or at least the eardrums.
"I think people like to do karaoke because they can be around each other," Marnee waitress Dao Kamokwan says between waiting tables in the busy restaurant. "When I'm off of work, I like to go out and sing, too."
As Kamokwan tends to tables, the restaurant erupts in applause as emcee Ruttanaporn Tongking, otherwise known as Amy, takes the stage. Dress in a short, torn denim skirt and black button-up shirt, she says something to the crowd in Thai that makes them clap again, and immediately she begins singing Thai pop songs in a beautiful, almost magical-sounding voice.
"In Thailand, there are a lot of karaoke places, and Asian people love karaoke," Amy says. "When people take the stage and sing songs, they are happy ... and I'm happy."
A waitress by day at another local Thai restaurant, Amy has been emceeing the Marnee karaoke night for almost two years, since moving to town with her now-ex-boyfriend.
"People from around the world come to this city to start over," Amy says. "There's also a lot of money, so more [Asians] are moving here." According to the 2000 U.S. Census, the Las Vegas Asian community numbers around 22,000, and early-2005 estimates place the number above 25,000. And with the growth, there is a distinction among the communities, mainly based on country of origin. But while this crowd consists mainly of members of the Thai community, Amy says folks of all nationalities are welcome to come and sing, and karaoke often bridges any divide.
"Everyone is here for the show; we don't care if people are different, we're here to show ourselves," Amy says. "We don't compare ourselves [by country]. It's about the community."
Further down Spring Mountain, inside bars Z-2 and the Zizzy, the party-time environment of Marnee is absent, replaced by a more sedate atmosphere and private singing experience. Built like traditional, low-key bars, Zizzy and the newer Z-2 operate high-end establishments. The sister bars—next to each other and sharing the same owner—offer private rooms with loud sound systems, plenty of liquor and privacy—groups can sing among friends rather than to a group of strangers at an open bar.
For many, like 21-year-old Malaysian student Bythe Soh, this is the only way to sing karaoke. "We love the room atmosphere ... because it's embarrassing to sing in front of strangers," Soh says. You hear that a lot. Rather than belting out "Free Bird" to drunks in Skynyrd shirts Downtown, the younger group of Asian-Americans (primarily in their 20s) largely prefers singing karaoke with small groups in the private rooms. Along with a preference for intimacy with friends, they also say they'd rather avoid the results of high-octane partying at some karaoke bars—such as unpleasant booze hounds and bar fights.
"In group places, I never feel comfortable and am surrounded by drunk people," Soh says. "I've never seen a fight, but I've been to places where people have been passed out on the floor."
Stories of local fights, as well as people in Asian countries actually being killed for singing bad karaoke, circulate every once in a while, but in reality, brawls rarely occur, club bartenders say. "It does get pretty rowdy sometimes," says 23-year-old Jenny, a bartender at Z-2. "Some people like to fight. But it's usually pretty laid back."
Still, these unfortunate stories of karaoke tragedy are enough to prompt people like Soh to spend up to $40 an hour for a private room. "It's expensive here compared to Malaysia," Soh says. "Sometimes the mics are broken or the songs are out of date, but [in Las Vegas] it's boring and [karaoke] is the only thing to do."
People will often spend hours waiting to grab one of the limited private rooms in either of the sister clubs.
Back at Star Karaoke a few hours later, the motley crew of young businesspeople is gone, replaced by a small group playing Chinese craps while throwing back Heinekens and taking turns singing Chinese pop hits.
At one of the tables, a touring Chinese acrobat named Larry and his friend call out song numbers to each other as they wait for their other friend to hand over the mic.
"I'm only in town for two months before I go back on the road, and I like to hang out with my friends," says Larry as he throws back a beer. "I like doing karaoke a lot." Larry has toured around the world as an acrobat for the past three years and says he has few friends on the road. But when he comes to Vegas and hits the karaoke bars, it begins to feel like his native China.
"In China, we karaoke all the time; it's what you do with your friends," Larry says. "I like to karaoke with the best of friends, and when I eat Chinese food and get to sing, it feels like home."