If you absolutely have to do karaoke—and, Lord knows, everyone does, at some point—your new home should be Tuesday night at the casual West Village gay bar Pieces. People of both genders actually get on a waiting list to take the stage, and when they do, it's with a real sense of enthusiasm that obscures the sometimes-not-Juilliard-level vocal skills. Half of the singers probably should have stayed in the shower, but the other half are at least good enough to play a hotel lounge in Indianapolis. And if someone's sounding extra painful (Mariah Carey songs tend to defeat most civilians), the din of the crowd yapping away drowns them out, only quieting down to give the next person a mic and a chance. Fortunately, everyone seems in on the joke, so it's never an assault—until you hear "Suddenly, Seymour" one more time and reach for the rotten tomatoes.