Piano Bars: The New Rules

Kelly Lamrock Discusses a Few Simple Rules for enjoying Piano Bars

Piano bars are an easy target. They offer nothing in the way of self-awareness or irony. They lend themselves to dad jeans and 80s music. The performances can be incredibly uneven, depending upon the piano players’ enthusiasm for your chosen song.

But I see you there, you, wearing your dad jeans and humming “I’m Still Standing”. You should check out a piano bar. Because when we all just admit our own guilty pleasures and let it go (let it go-oh”), something awesome happens. We get a genuine communal Vegas experience in a place without judgement, where people simply stop worrying about impressing strangers and embrace the fact that deep down, most of us love the same stupid crap.

You doubt me? Do I have to list the things that have happened on the music chart? Do I need to remind you that we live in a world where “Achy Breaky Heart”, “Tarzan Boy”, and that “Boom Boom” thing were hits? Do I have to put Sweet Caroline on and watch the place lose its collective shit? I didn’t think so.

Like those songs, Vegas piano bars are that thing few admit to liking yet seem to be everywhere, suggesting that we all lie to ourselves. Harrah’s Lounge puts the dueling pianos right by the entrance, melding with the party atmosphere of Carnival Court. Napoleon’s at Paris tries, with considerable success, to add some class to the surroundings with leather furniture and a cognac-scented aura. MGM tried it at Rouge and regretted it immediately.

For my money, the best duelling piano bar is The Bar At Times Square in New York New York. First, it actually fits the theme. I’ve been in that bar, not only in New York, but in other urban centres that fit the vibe that part of the resort wants to create. With enough drinks, that stumble to the pizza place across the hall can feel like an urban pub crawl night, and that’s good when you’re trying for a little escapism and well-earned immaturity. (If you are not, and you’re over 25, why the hell are you in Vegas?).

The pianists in Times Square have never been anything less than encyclopedic in their knowledge of the pop music canon. Last Canada Day, a group of us from the east coast tested them right good, eh? We insisted on appropriate music for our July 1st national holiday. Sure, we expected them to nail Bryan Adams’ “Summer Of 69” and Loverboy’s “Working For The Weekend”. But they didn’t blink at being asked to try “Little Bones” by the Tragically Hip, a band that Canadians love and no other country truly gets. (Knowing Bryan Adams is like telling us you know Labatt’s Blue is Canadian. Breaking out the Tragically Hip is like showing us your fridge full of Moosehead. One is what you know you think we like. The other is what we really like.). By the time they pulled off a respectable call-and-response on “The Last Saskatchewan Pirate” by the Arrogant Worms, we were hooked.

Sure, they’ve got that annoying MGM habit of awkwardly and visibly trying out ways to monetize the experience. On my last three visits, the rules have changed. Once, there was a drink minimum. Then a cover charge for the privilege of sitting. Once the pianists auctioned off the next song, which was a buzzkill and never repeated.

For all that, The Bar at Times Square always has the critical mass to reach that moment we will call “Piano Bar Nirvana.” Where the whole bar is united in singing a song at the top of their lungs, the drinks are coming with decent speed and accuracy, we’re all in the mood for a melody and they’ve got us feeling all right. Not to be confused with the Piano Bar “Norvana”, where two guys try to sing “Smells Like Teen Spirit” with only piano accompaniment.

So if you’re beside me on my next Vegas trip, I can promise you mostly on-key singing and a complete absence of judgement, with a few simple rules. Allow me to propose three simple rules for proprietors.

A few simple rules for owners…

For the owners, let me tell you three ways to your customers’ hearts. Yes, I can speak for the bar. How? Same way I know everyone wants to hear “Come On Eileen” next, that’s how.

1. Predictability. Hearing your song is part of the experience. For a brief moment, you’re contributing to the party. So let us know the rules, at least by observably-consistent behaviour.. What tip cuts the line? How long will a basic tip require us to wait? Don’t be arbitrary about it and start playing favourites. Just let us know what waiting our turn means.
2. Have enough staff. Most piano bar songs are “five drink awesome”. What do I mean? Let’s put it this way. If you are sitting around the house, and I come in and cue up “Sister Christian”, that sucks. Four friends, each drinking six beer? Awesome. So don’t skimp on staff and make us wait or we will leave before the next chorus of “Hot Blooded”.
3. Finish the song. Some pianists will take someone’s bad request and offer to terminate it for a higher price. I will often pay the “drop everything” tip, but I won’t do that. Look, piano man, if you’re convinced that the whole place will be miserable if you blow through “I’ve Never Been To Me” (and it will), tell the nice lady the truth and let her try again. Don’t be a douchenozzle and make her pay to be ridiculed and not hear her song.

And a few simple ones for the customers:

1. Contribute. This is not the time to show off by requesting that tasteful Graham Parker back track, or to indulge your need to hear that Smiths song that expresses the angst of the rejection you suffered at Coyote Ugly. In the piano bar, we work as a team to make the party, so be a team player and keep public opinion in mind. I have no doubt that Genesis’s “The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway” is a nine-minute opus that puts “Only The Good Die Young” to shame in a battle of musical complexity. But, in the final analysis, piss off. Our job is to be inclusive here, so come out Virginia, and read the room.
2. Know your limits. Everyone should sing along. If you have, like, a minimum ability to carry a tune at a high school musical level, great. If you know you’re likely not singing the right melody remotely, face the band and send your voice into the collective howl. Do not let booze tell you that it’s a good idea to lean toward the table next to you and talk-sing at them so they can’t hear. Just, use your judgement.
3. No booing. Everyone who suggests a song is trying to help. Respect it. And remember the five beer awesome rule. On the radio, I never really cared for “Part-Time Lover” by Stevie Wonder. One night, at the piano bar, it seemed to pull me in. Sing along and let the bad become a little bit good for a night. That’s what the piano bar is there to do.

[Images: New York New York, Harrah’s Las vegas, Kelly Lamrock]

Kelly Lamrock

Kelly Lamrock didn’t see Vegas until he was 40. Now, he goes several times a year. When home in Atlantic Canada, he’s a lawyer, international consultant, and former Attorney-General. When in Vegas, he is consumed by the search for the best craft beer, the perfect sportsbook, and a post-show cigar. He loves Vegas because, as Jerry Seinfeld says, “wherever you’re from, Vegas is pretty much the opposite of that.”