Johanna Hyman

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• Posted Is This Thing On? Ground Control is L.A.'s Best Alternative Karaoke to LAist
  Let me get this straight, Jewel’s Catch One--comfy sofas surrounding the stage area? Bauhaus in the song book? Goths and Dodgers fans alike uniting over a mutual love of Robert Smith? A cupholder on the microphone? A cupholder on the freaking microphone?! You trying to get me to move in or something? It’s a good thing this only goes down once a week. Mark your calendars, creatures of the night--every Monday night the overlords of Ground Control take over the venerable Jewel’s Catch One for what must surely be the most offbeat karaoke night in town.
• Commented on Is This Thing On?—The Happy Ending: The Only Coreyoke Bar in Town
  Right on both counts! Try to sign up early so you don't have to pay 10 bucks like this sucker. If all else fails, staying home and singing along to the Lost Boys soundtrack can be fun, too....
• Commented on Is This Thing On?—The Happy Ending: The Only Coreyoke Bar in Town
  D&D all the way, though yeah, it can smack of Ren Fair depending on who's running the table...did I hear fried bread knots on a skewer? Good Lord....
• Posted Is This Thing On?—The Happy Ending: The Only Coreyoke Bar in Town to LAist
  Booth, bar or bar mitzvah—there’s more than one way to enjoy (or merely endure) karaoke, and what better place to explore this cherished international pastime than the entertainment capital of the world? Singing in public is daunting enough without having to worry about compromising your vocal cords and your blood alcohol level in pursuit of the ultimate karaoke experience, so we’re taking some of the guess work out of it for you in our series,...
• Posted Is This Thing On? The Best Karaoke Joint You Might Be Scared Of to LAist
  Before the Smog Cutter was East Hollywood’s most infamously decrepit karaoke joint, it was reportedly one of Charles Bukowski’s dives of choice. While this has yet to be corroborated by the ninety-year-old hunchbacked regular who apparently takes a vow of silence between spirited performances of Clarence Carter’s “Stroke It,” one look at the dingy, faux-wood paneled interior and world-weary patrons seems like evidence enough. You may not be as lucky as I am and live spitting distance from the place, but if you share old Hank’s penchant for stiff drinks, small time hustlers and hard women, you just may have found yourself a home away from home.