BURST
On Sunday evenings in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, a space that is usually reserved for emergency shelter transforms. Chairs are lined up facing a projector screen, a sign-up sheet is passed hand-to-hand and the low hum of conversation fades as the opening bars of a karaoke song fill the room.
“Since it’s Valentine’s Day coming up, I’m going to sing something romantic,” says Robert Mah, who stands tall in a yellow hat and navy-blue suit jacket, waiting for the first words of a YouTube lyric video to appear in front of him.
Just after 5 p.m., the 68-year-old — known to some as the “karaoke king of the DTES” — readies himself to croon into the microphone about heartbreak, time and things lost — themes that hang over the audience gathered at Union Gospel Mission’s Cornerstone centre, many of whom are unhoused or living in precarious housing, including refugees and people navigating poverty and health challenges.
Before launching into End of the Road by Boyz II Men, Mah starts with the track’s spoken opening.
“Girl, you know we belong together. I don’t have no time for you to be playing with my heart like this,” he rasps.
A retired public school teacher from Surrey, Mah became homeless two years ago after a renovation displaced him. Struggling to find affordable housing on a pension, he spent months living out of his car and at temporary shelters before finding a provincial government-subsidized spot in UGM’s transitional housing in August.
“While I’m no longer sleeping on the streets or in a shelter, constantly worried about my stuff getting stolen, life is still a struggle,” the retiree said.
This year, Mah was diagnosed with cancer and had colectomy surgery. He’s still recovering physically, which makes it difficult to work: “I’ve been relying on remote teaching gigs because I can’t stand up long enough to instruct in front of a class.”
There is shame, Mah says, in being homeless after years as a teacher whom he felt students looked up to. Onstage, though, that weight briefly lifts.
“Karaoke is like my second soul,” he said, boasting that he practises each song choice hours before the showcase.
Mah is one of a few dozen people who gather weekly to vocalize in the low-lit space that feels more like a nightlife lounge than a shelter. Attendees sit quietly, almost reverently, while others sing — until a performer like Mah hits a high note, prompting cheers. The free karaoke night is one of several run by non-profits across the DTES. Currently, there is enough demand in the neighbourhood that one is hosted every day of the week at a different venue.
When Mah is finished, the audience claps.
UGM’s weekly karaoke started small but grew quickly in popularity. Nick Wells, a spokesman for the non-profit, said the program began just a few months ago with a handful of participants. Now, the event regularly draws nearly three dozen guests, and organizers must cap performers at two songs each.
“It’s not your typical karaoke night like at a bar,” Wells said, pointing to the hushed audience. “People are sharing what they’re currently going through with song, and those gathered are giving the person their moment.”
The two-hour night of music happens just hours before the same room is converted into an overnight shelter. The space at 601 East Hastings St. also operates as a drug- and alcohol-free community drop-in space during the week.
The weekly occasion has been so popular that even staff at the non-profit have begun to test their chops.
Benjamin Rampre, an East Vancouver resident who has been volunteering at UGM for eight months, started his shift behind the counter, preparing hot coffee and cueing up the music. On Sunday, he took to the microphone.
He sang Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton, with his right hand resting in his jeans pocket.
“Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees, time can break your heart, have you begging please,” belted Rampre, who wore a red hat and T-shirt. He said he chose the ballad because his uncle is currently ill.
“I chose that song for him,” Rampre said.
By the tune’s end, one of his friends in the back of the room yelled for an encore as the rest of the audience roared with applause. In response, Rampre turned around and winked at the crowd.
“It’s been nice to make new friends and see people in the community having a good time,” he said.