Karaoke is Napa's Most Underrated Wellness Practice

On a recent random Thursday night at the DoubleTree in American Canyon, a woman named Susan stood up, grabbed the mic, and casually launched into Alone by Heart, which is the 80s glam rock equivalent of crying in the bathroom at prom.

She wasn’t showing off or trying to mimic Ann Wilson. She was just a woman in her element, belting it out for a courtyard of travel-weary strangers and local regulars sipping happy hour chardonnay.

It wasn’t perfect (that key change is a doozy by anyone’s standards), but it didn’t need to be because Susan didn’t come to impress anyone. She came to feel something.

Years before this random Thursday, Susan had her first karaoke experience at a Relay for Life fundraiser in Napa. The vibe was celebratory and supportive, but despite all that, the stakes felt enormous.

“I was so excited but so terrified,” she tells me. “My hand was shaking so hard the microphone was visibly shaking.”

She queued up Melissa Etheridge’s Come to My Window, but barely remembers getting on stage, let alone getting through it. “I was afraid to get in front of people because I didn’t know how they were going to feel about me singing. What if they didn’t like me?”

That fear wasn’t just about the song — it was about being seen and being judged. It was the fear of being cringe.

Let’s be honest: karaoke is cringe. That’s kinda the whole appeal.

It’s not curated or cool. It doesn’t have filters or edits or auto tune. It is, by design, chaotic and vulnerable and a little embarrassing. Which is exactly why it matters.

We live in a time when everything is branded, optimized, and algorithm-approved. Even our joy has to be photogenic and feed-worthy. Karaoke refuses all of that. It’s unfiltered joy. It’s joy with shaky vocals. Joy that sometimes forgets the second verse and just powers through.

And in a place like Napa — where the default setting is finely tuned to “elevated” and “intentional” and “organic” — karaoke is refreshingly messy.

“I think everybody sings a song in karaoke for a reason,” Susan says. “They choose that song because it means something to them. If it's a heartbreak song, then they sing that because they’re thinking about a heartbreak. Or maybe they're going through one.”

And there it is. The real truth about karaoke: It’s about catharsis.

There’s actual science to back it up.

And a 2013 study out of Oxford found that singing together triggers a rapid sense of connection — faster than just talking or even dancing. Other research links singing to decreased cortisol levels, improved mood, and even enhanced immune response.

It helps you work through fear (like public speaking, but with air guitars), builds community, and lets you scream your emotions out in a socially acceptable format. What’s not to love?

“It meant a lot for me that I conquered that fear,” Susan says now. “It made me more open to doing things I used to be scared of. Now I’m having fun.”

Karaoke is one of the few experiences that doesn’t require a reservation three months out, a dress code, or a curated persona. It just requires guts.

So if you're ready to pick up the mic for an emotional release, some bridal shower drama, or just a Tuesday night scream-along, here are the spots where Napa hits a high note.

The lore is true — this is where Napa’s most unassuming power vocalists come to play. Every Friday and Saturday night, the vintage steakhouse vibes take a sharp left turn as the karaoke crowd rolls in. The stage is minimal but the energy is to the max. It’s the kind of place where someone’s dad will bring down the house with Britney Spears (I was there), and a bachelorette party will hijack the stage for a group session. Expect ranch dressing, ribeyes, and a surprisingly strong rendition of “Before He Cheats.”

If downtown Napa had a karaoke clubhouse, this would be it. Friday nights from 8 to 11, Barnhouse turns into a full-blown sing-along. The beer flows, the regulars show up, and the mic stays hot. It’s a little chaotic, a little wholesome, and deeply communal in the way that only shared humiliation can be. Come early if you want your name called before last call. Bonus: the beer list smacks.

Part brewpub, part time capsule, Mondays and Tuesdays are the unofficial sing-it-out nights, and the vibe is a perfect storm of college bar energy, dad-rock nostalgia, and earnest duets that absolutely should not work but somehow do. You’ll find tourists, townies, and maybe a couple winemakers in fleece vests doing Caribbean Queen. Go with friends. Stay for the chaos.

Did I forget your fave? Tell me about it in the comments.