By Mark David Blum

Imagine you could waive a magic wand and change your entire history. Just for a moment, dare to dream what your life would have been (or could still be) if you were given the chance to live that life and have that career that you dreamed of as a child and for which you know you would die happy.

For me, that dream is to be a rock star. Nothing wets my panties more than the thought of walking out on stage and hearing the screams and cheers of thousands, grabbing a microphone, hearing my band start up, and letting go with the song that make the whole world sing. While the groupies, the sex, and the drugs might be a wonderful side attraction, the real joy and passion would be cutting lose and letting go on stage. When I see other musicians do so, I watch with envy and the desire for just one chance to have that dream. Through watching others, I have a tendency to live out that fantasy, even if I am just playing air guitar, banging my head, and pretending to sing the lyrics.

The fundamental problem and reason I went into a different line of work is simple: I can’t sing and have no musical talent whatsoever. Well I can sing, but to anybody but me, it is not singing. It is flat, uninteresting, and at times annoying noise. I cannot play an instrument, keep a beat, or read a note. To top if off, I am tone deaf and a true white boy when it comes to a sense of rhythm and style.

For forty eight years, I have sat on the sidelines and watched so many others live out that dream. Until last night ….

Singers, a Karaoke Bar on Midler Ave., brought their equipment to the Fair last night and set up at the 95X booth across from Davoli’s Trackside. A dear friend of mine who is a regular at Singers and who has been bugging me to go down there, told me of the open mike karaoke planned for Sunday evening at 6:00 p.m. and urged me to come down and watch.

After listening to several flat, uninteresting, and routine simple songs (and after a couple of margaritas were poured down my throat), it was time. Walking over to the table, I just wanted to tease myself and see what songs and artists were available. Because I so suck in musical talent, I have never really developed a knowledge of bands and their specific songs. The more titles and groups I looked at and as lyrics kept bouncing around in my head, the focus became not on the list, but on what song I was going to sing.

Yes, the time had come to cross one major barrier in my life yet to be breached. I was indeed going to get up on that stage in front of the few hundred folks milling around, and live out the fantasy – and the hell with them if I sucked.

Title after title, artist after artist, I read and became more confused. What song did I want? Something easy? Fuck no. I wanted a song that not only changed the tempo of the evening, but reflected the mood at the Fair and the mood inside my head. The fantasy was replacing reality as I slowly convinced myself that I really could pull this off. With hundreds of titles, it was chaos.

At first, I was looking for the song, ‘barefootin`’ but nobody but me a couple of watchers would have understood the humor behind it. Then I considered George Thorogood’s Bad to the Bone. But then I came upon what I thought was the perfect song … A Paradise City by Guns and Roses. Friday night, I did a near perfect rendition of that song at the Coliseum Bar as I sang and played air guitar along with the band along with the rest of the crowd. “This is going to be easy,” I mistakenly thought.

A woman had just completed a rendition of the Jackson Five’s ABC and they called me up. As I went running up, I kept on flashing to Axil Rose and how he performs on stage. I felt the power and gathered up all my strength and courage and bounced up onto the stage.

With the microphone in hand, I introduced myself and said, “Yes I am a lawyer – and I play one at the Fair. For 20 years, I am a Fair Rat and I want to sing a song that I dedicate to the New York State Fair … My Paradise City.

From that point on, I have no recollection of what happened. Having picked one of the hardest songs to sing and never before having been challenged to sing the verses and not just the chorus, I learned hard and fast why rockers are all in such great shape. Within minutes, I was lost in the words that were flying by the monitor but I never let go. Just like being in front of a jury, once you're in the game, you stay in the game no matter how lost you get. So I just poured it on -- louder, harder, uglier.

“Take me back to a paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. O won’t you please take me home.”

After fighting through the chorus and verses, there are long musical refrains in the song where the band pounds out hot licks. During those moments, I did everything from bang my head to ask if there was any furniture around I could smash up. (If you know G&R, you would appreciate that joke). As I grew bored with the song but was still singing loud and flat and off key, I began to have some fun with the lyrics, ...“Take me back to the New York State Fair where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. O don’t you never take me home, Yeah Yeah.”

Yet the song played on and if not for the good graces of the great folks at Singers, one of whom stepped up to give me backup, the situation would have been a disaster. Instead, it really worked out well and for just one moment, I was really a rock star. When the song ended and there were no cheers but lots of smiles and backpats, I remembered why I was a trial lawyer and not a singer. I could have stood up there and told impromptu stories and jokes for hours without breaking a sweat.

The moment I got off the stage, I wanted to get right back up there and sing something I really knew. Just one song to which I knew all the words and could focus on the act and not the teleprompter was all I wanted. Alas, but there too many others and I think the world had enough of me and my one hit wonder.

But folks, let me leave you with this one thought. The New York State Fair is indeed a Paradise City because where else but there and in that environment can you for a few moments, let go of reality and live out a dream.

Next time, I am going to try my hand at rapping – freestyle. “The name is Blum, not Bloom, that’s Blum with an ‘L’. I’m not a bum. I’m the baddest fuckin lawyer on this side of hell.”

I want to go, I want to go, oh won’t you please take me back to the Great New York State Fair.