Culture Karaoke

The keynote the audience writes.

The room requests and votes for the culture questions it most wants answered. Whatever they push to the top is what gets tackled, live, in that order. Every question arrives paired with a song, and the chart moves on the screen while they watch.

The problem

What is broken with modern conferences

Six frustrations every delegate has felt, and quietly accepted as the cost of a conference.

  1. 1Death by PowerPoint

    Sixty-seven slides and a mountain story that could have been an email.

  2. 2Devices out

    Half the room checked out, because the format gave them no reason to stay in it.

  3. 3Not relevant to me

    Interesting enough, and nothing to do with the work anybody does on a Tuesday.

  4. 4Deliver and disappear

    On for the slot, gone before the coffee. No before, no after.

  5. 5Gone by the next day

    A one-hour island. Nothing follows it, so it evaporates.

  6. 6Endured, not enjoyed

    No energy in the room, just blank faces pointed at a big screen.

Every one of those is a symptom of the same thing: the room had no say in what happened to it. So the room gets the say.

The chart on the screen behind the stage, with the room's top questions and the album sleeve for each.

What the room watches. Their questions, in the order they voted for them, each with its record. The join code and QR stay on screen the whole time.

The idea at the heart of it

Improvisation is not the absence of skill. It is the highest expression of it.

You can only be spontaneous if you have a plan. You can only improvise if you have the expertise. What is prepared is the material: every question in the songbook is written, researched and ready. What the room decides is which of them get answered at all, in what order, and which of its own questions join them.

How it runs

Three weeks out to the Monday after

Not an hour on a stage. A build-up your delegates are part of, a session they steer, and something that is still working when they get back to their desks.

Weeks out · the build-up

They get a code, and the chart starts moving

A join code goes out with the delegate email. No app, no account, no name. They browse the songbook, spend three requests on the questions they actually want answered, and write their own if it is not in there.

Questions that overlap get folded together, so near-duplicates climb instead of splitting the vote. By the time the doors open you know exactly where the room’s tension sits.

The songbook on a phone: questions grouped by genre, each with a song and album sleeve, and three requests to spend.

On the day · the live experience

The chart is the running order

Whatever the room pushed highest is what gets answered, in that order. The screen shows the chart moving, positions rising and falling, and the record playing behind each question.

Voting reopens in the room, and everybody gets their requests back. Only a handful of questions fit a slot, so what the room does in that moment decides which ones make it, not just the sequence. Nothing unprepared can win: the live round only ever offers questions that already charted.

The chart on a delegate's phone, showing positions rather than vote counts.

The Monday after · the follow-through

It does not evaporate

Most keynotes vanish the moment they finish. This one leaves a page: the setlist exactly as the room voted it, and one thing to do. Not a reading list, not a slide deck. One action, specific enough to do on Monday without asking what it meant.

The after-show page: the setlist as the room voted it, and the one action to take.

The bits people talk about afterwards

Two details that give it away

Small things, and the reason a format built on karaoke is more than a metaphor.

Parental AdvisoryThe explicit sticker

Nobody signs their name to anything, so the honest questions turn up. If somebody flags one as blunt, it goes up on the screen wearing a parental advisory sticker, exactly like a record that earned one.

It is a joke and it is also permission. The question people were only ever going to ask in the car park gets asked in the room instead.

This one goes out to…Dedications

Every question can carry one, the way a request has done on the radio since the 1950s. For everyone on the third floor. For my last manager. For the team who had to sit through the values workshop.

They are read out with the question. It is the single most reliable laugh of the session, and it is entirely written by the room.

A question on the screen wearing a parental advisory sticker, tagged as a cover written by somebody in the room.

A real one, on the screen. The sticker is the format telling the room it is safe to be honest, and the COVER tag means somebody in the audience wrote the question.

A question on the screen with its album sleeve, artist and a progress line, the way a record player shows a track.

Every question is paired with a record. It is the reason the room leans in, and the reason they can still name three of them a week later.

What your delegates get

A reason to stay in the room

Their question, on the screen

When a question somebody wrote gets answered, their phone tells them it was theirs. Nobody else in the room can see it. It is the difference between watching a keynote and having written one.

Nothing to download

A code and a browser. No app, no account, no email address, no name attached to anything. The questions worth asking are usually the ones nobody wants their name on.

Relevant by construction

It cannot be irrelevant to the room, because the room chose it. Not a topic guessed at from a brief six months ago.

Something to take back

One action, and a page they can send to the people who were not there.

People remember the experiences they were part of.

Culture Karaoke runs on its own platform, built for the format: the songbook, the voting, the chart on the screen, the run sheet behind it and the page that lands afterwards.