"Karaoke arrived in Singapore four years ago, and there are now over 150 establishments, with the number increasing at a rate of between five and eight every month," according to Yi Chen-tung, designer and karaoke center owner, who is worried that there may be too many already.

Cai Yong-zhen, who opened the first karaoke center in the City of Lions, originally worked in the printing trade. His fondness for singing brought him into contact with karaoke in Taiwan, a pleasure that he wanted to be able to share with his compatriots. At first his friends poured cold water on the idea, saying that the young all grow up learning English nowadays, making it hard enough for them to understand a song in Chinese let alone sing it. When he applied for a license, officials were concerned that fights might break out among the clientele, and when permission was finally granted the rules were extremely strict: his business license was to be revoked immediately if any customer should throw a glass or start a fight on the premises.

"In fact" says Cai, "after opening we discovered that everyone was very well behaved." Each singer was applauded, with the biggest applause going to the worst singers!" It was exciting for everyone, as if each person was pop star for a night."

The Singapore government began to take notice of karaoke. Explains Wong Chin-soon, feature writer at the Shin Min Daily News, the government actively encourages events with singing and painting to "reach the goal of a more beautiful society by the year 2000." Additionally, permission was given to all community centers to install karaoke machines to entertain old people who might be lonely. From the city to the suburbs the sound of karaoke can be heard all over. Asiaweek senior correspondent Chua Leong-kian explains that Singapore is an aging society, and that while the older generation in a Chinese family was most likely educated in Chinese, the younger generation have been educated in English. They think in very different ways from each other, which is why there are frequent cases where offspring have abandoned their parents.

Single old people can get very bored in their housing estates, where pet dogs are not allowed and contacts between neighbors are rare, so the government has used the media to exhort people in their "happy years" (over 45 years old) to sing songs. Singing is certainly healthier than playing mah jong.

In the Hsimenting district of Taipei there are song halls for the old, while Singapore has karaokes for the old. They are usually open for two sessions a day, from two to six in the afternoon, and from seven to eleven at night. Cai Yong-zhen remarks: "Happy years people really love karaoke. They make a fuss to ensure that everyone sings in the right order and for the right duration." They always know better than the DJ does whose turn at the microphone is next. One lady in her seventies stipulated that her funeral should feature a tape of her singing karaoke, for the grandchildren to hear. Another crooner dropped dead after he finished singing Tsai Chin's "The Final Night." Then there is the old gentleman suffering from cancer who refuses surgery but sings karaoke every day.

Cai Yong-zhen admits: "Sometimes it feels as if karaoke has tricked these old people, trying to fool death away with a temporary happiness." 

[Picture Caption]

Belting out a song lets you forget your troubles--and your age.