As expected, the last song of the night was a wash. Between being too drunk to hold a note and a voice worn down by a full evening of singing and shouting at the volume levels a crowded bar perpetually requires, almost anything sung after midnight tends to be coarse, beaten, whispered and screamed. Fortunately, by that time, no one really cares. The best approach for me was to select something low and excited, something people who can’t sing will too often sing.
Lord Malinov, Song of Songs