Organoakie: The Night Karaoke Met a Pipe Organ

Organoakie: The Night Karaoke Met a Pipe Organ (and Neither Survived Unscathed)

There are certain sentences you never expect to say in life.
“Please don’t felt your woollens.”
“LANG Cloud is out of stock again.”
And now:
“We celebrated our anniversary at a karaoke night accompanied by a pipe organ.”

Yes — Organoakie.
Karaoke + organ = joy, chaos, and possibly a minor religious experience.

It all happened ten minutes from our flat, which already tells you the Camberwell / Peckham area is not a normal place. Dr Thomas and I were celebrating our 15th anniversary, and while most couples choose a quiet dinner, flowers, or something with candles, we thought:

“Let’s go to an event where a man in a sequinned jacket plays ABBA on an actual church organ while the audience belts out Whitney Houston.”

Because of course we did.

When we arrived, the atmosphere was electric — like a school assembly gone rogue.
A full pipe organ dominated the stage. Someone was warming up with My Heart Will Go On. The acoustics were so dramatic that even clearing your throat sounded like you were summoning medieval spirits.

And then the magic began.

The first singer launched straight into Total Eclipse of the Heart.
On a pipe organ.
With the audience doing the dramatic head turns.
It was, honestly, the greatest thing I've ever seen — and remember, I once watched the Vengaboys at the Yumbo Centre (a shopping center on an island in the middle of the Atlanticorganoakie

!)

Dr Thomas sat beside me alternating between laughing, crying, and genuinely worrying the organ might suddenly burst into flames during the key change. Meanwhile, I was already planning my next McIntosh Clan outing.

By the time someone attempted Bohemian Rhapsody, even the organ was sweating.
The applause shook the rafters.
My knitting bag vibrated.
I swear the church mice had earplugs in.

Between songs, I leaned over to Dr T and whispered:
“We should do this every year.”
To which he replied,
“Absolutely not.”
Which, in married language, means:
Yes, but please warn me first.

But what made Organoakie truly special wasn’t the music (though the organist deserves a knighthood).
It was the crowd — joyful, chaotic, wonderfully mismatched. Teenagers with mulled wine. Pensioners in sequins. Local characters doing vocal warmups like they were preparing for the Royal Opera House.

It felt like the McIntosh Clan in concert form — woolly, warm, unexpected, completely unpretentious, and held together by community, courage, and a questionable song list.

So yes, our anniversary celebration may have involved booming acoustics, off-key divas, and a church organ played like it had been possessed by Elton John, but it was, hands down:

The most us night imaginable.

If you ever find yourself near an Organoakie event, go.
Sing.
Laugh.
Bring your knitting (trust me, the acoustics make your stitches look spiritual).
And always—always—support the organist.

— James
(and Dr Thomas, now petitioning for noise-cancelling ear defenders for next year)