If My Car Could Only Talk - Lou Christie
War. What is it good for? Like Koala bears and cufflinks, pretty much sod all... apart from settling land disputes, ousting dictators and providing employment for the one soldier in the platoon who can play the harmonica.
Yes, war makes Charlie Sheens of us all: caught wide-eyed between the naked and the dead. Spare a thought too for the survivor,
the returning soldier and the Veteran. The flashbacks, the emotional scars... the fact that your girlfriend has been borrowing your car and using it to conduct illicit affairs while you've been popping 'Gooks' in the D.M.Z. Whatever that is. Charming.
If only my car could talk, muses girly pop dramatist Lou Christie, it would tell me if my lady was gettin' it on in the backseat. It might also be able to tell me how many mixed fruit travel sweets are left in the tin in the glove compartment. Oh, right, it's all icing sugar. Thank you, Car.
With his overwrought, crescendoing pop operas, Lou Christie came close to challenging Roy Orbison's title as the world heavyweight champion of echoey
male heartbreak. The only thing that scuppered his challenge was his use of ear-piercing, audible-only-to-certain-breeds-of-beagle soprano notes...
From Frankie Valli and Smokey Robinson through to any number of Heavy Metal acts in the eighties, the use of upper register warbling by male singers was a feature of rock and pop for years. Now it's a trick confined to
milk-sop boybands and irate Physics teachers.
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