The Most Talented Town In America

Photo by Steff Shields

Just outside one of America’s most iconic birthplaces of music legends, sits a tiny town brimming with undiscovered, castaway crooners of yesteryear.  Steff Shields dives into the hidden gem of singing talent that is Shoreline, Washington.

 

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There is hardly a music lover alive who is unfamiliar with the stamp that Seattle, Washington has left on the industry.

This Northern city has acted as the birthplace of modern grunge, Carrie Brownstein, Chris Cornell, Jimi Hendrix, and continues to house and produce thousands of musicians every year. While chords are struck, and speakers are blown in town, something secret sits just outside the shadow of the needle.

A short 20-minute drive outside of Seattle, sits Shoreline, WA. The town itself serves as an “out of the way” tourist spot, providing access to Seattle without the sky-high prices of hotels or B and B’s. There is something seemingly sleepy about the outdated architecture and nostalgia of the town, but it has not escaped the musical influence that its neighbouring city has to offer.

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“You alright?” A party member pushed through a crowded but narrow hallway en route to a two-seat table. Half empty pitchers and highball glasses littered tabletops, waiting to be pushed over in the shuffle. There was one two-seater table left crowded amongst pool tables but in full view of a DJ booth.

The crowd quieted as a man made his way to the standing microphone that had taken precedence over the small dance floor. He was small, with a receding hairline, a clip-on phone case and his t-shirt tucked into his jeans. Despite his outward appearance and the first impression that he gave off, everyone in the bar seemed to know him. All over the room, voices dropped into hushed whispers while slow notes announced Canada’s greatest songstress. Swaying in time with the slow but recognizable introductory notes, the small man grabbed the microphone and began belting out Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On”. Within a few bars of nostalgic greatness, the man with the cellphone clip-on gave way to an honest showman. The next singer grabbed the neck of the microphone like Steven Tyler, pushing his hands to the sky; with gyrated hips that had been made nearly invisible through frantic motion.

This first act was enough to embody the idea of not judging a book by its cover, but as the night progressed, my eyes were opened to a world of conflicted imagery, frenzied pop culture, and many a pitcher.

The Viking acts as a haven for unattached music enthusiasts. Many of the patrons there that night had previously been attached to failed musical acts of all sorts.

The main pull to The Viking was not its outward appearance but a chalkboard sign that advertised “Happy Hour” as beginning at 11 am. During the early hours of the afternoon, the bar is not much to look at. The front door opens up into a bar area to the right-hand side and a row of pool tables to the left. The Viking is not a heritage bar, in fact, the staff working there had very little to tell us about the property itself. What we were told, was that there is live music once in a while and karaoke seven days a week otherwise. With a few hours of driving under our belt and an uneventful night ahead, there was no turning down a night of karaoke in Washington.

As the sun set and we returned to the two-storey property, patios were full of twilight smokers and strobe lights. Once it had become apparent that there was more to The Viking than a host of early drinkers, there was no turning back.

As it turns out, The Viking acts as a haven for unattached music enthusiasts. Many of the patrons there that night had previously been attached to failed musical acts of all sorts. The narrow dance floor and Technicolor light show were acting as a last spotlight for singers, rappers, and crooners of all kinds. Over and over the karaoke lineup changed from Sinatra’s “My Way” to Leanne Rimes “Can’t Fight The Moonlight” and Ginuwine’s “Pony”. One female singer even made the jump from “Zombie” by the Cranberries to Nelly’s “Grillz”.

When asked why every person in Shoreline seemed to fall into the ranks of a professional singer, the most common response was no more than a shrug of the shoulder. Singers flocked in waves, some of them waiting more than an hour for their shot at the microphone. “It’s the only thing to do” one man responded, still sweating from a lively rendition of “My Way”. It would seem as though limited late night options has produced a town-wide lineup of singers and rockstars.

Whether you are a part of the music industry or just a music enthusiast, The Viking is a must-see of the Washington scene.