[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the archive of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty years ago the Sultan of Sot paid a visit to Shotz Bar in Gary-New Duluth and composed this article for the July 2004 issue of the Ripsaw magazine. Shotz closed in April 2023.]

I refer to Commonwealth Avenue as the region’s Karaoke Belt not because there’s more karaoke in Gary than in the rest of Duluth and Superior, but rather because there’s the best karaoke there. If you want to hear people who can actually sing, go to the Alpine Bar. If you want to hear people who can’t sing well at all, but still bring a touch of art to their performance, go to Shotz.

There are a lot of pictures of bikers lining the walls of Shotz, which might make you think it’s a biker bar. A quick look around the room tonight, however, reveals only two patrons dressed like members of the Black Widows. The rest are wearing CSI Las Vegas caps, warm-up pants and various articles of clothing earned by collecting UPC symbols on cigarette cartons.

Nudging my way past an old man with a walker, I order a beer from the surly bartender and get nestled in for the night’s performances. The first songbird of the night is a gentleman named Kenny, and he’s going to sing … get this … “New York, New York.”

Oh, Kenny. How can I describe him? Let’s just say that he’s the Caucasian Wesley Willis. He really wants to be a part of it. And make a brand new start of it. No one, I’m thinking, can top this performance — not even Kenny himself. Sorry buddy, you shot your wad and it’s time to go limp and fall asleep.

For a while it seems that I’m right. The DJ spins hot tracks, all of which seemingly come from Now That’s What I Call Music 15, and no one takes the stage for a long while. Then, finally, he announces “All right! Let’s get Kenny up here on stage!”

And just to slam-dunk my cynicism into the nearest toilet, Kenny treats us to his rendition of Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5.” Twenty seconds into the performance, I want to produce this guy’s first album. I’m serious. There is no live music in the Twin Ports tonight that can even come close to this. The lyrical delivery is priceless, and it goes something like this: “mumble mumble mumble STUMBLE IN THE KITCHEN! mumble mumble mumble CUP OF AMBITION! mumble mumble TRY TO COME ALIVE!” Then Kenny delivers the chorus at an absolute shriek, with maximum power and energy. This, my friends, is punk rock.

As if things couldn’t get better, the door flies open at this point and a parade of pleasantly plump 40-year-old women tramps in, quickly followed by two guys in tuxedos. The tuxedo guys have a pretty sweet SLR camera, and immediately they begin snapping some photos. The women, meanwhile, head directly to the DJ and make a request. They don’t want to sing anything, they just want to hear “Hot in Herre” by Nelly and get their groove on.

Kenny, however, has other ideas. His next move is to ask the musical question, “How do you like me NOW?” Our answer is: “more than we ever thought possible.”