I am not a singer. Not in any socially-acceptable way, that is. Whatever musical talent I have is localized in my hands, and even that is questionable. I sing the way I used to play oboe: LOUDLY, and with more enthusiasm than skill!
But I really, really, really love to sing, and whenever we play the three wishes game, one of my wishes is always “to be able to sing better.” Now, maybe with some time and training I could improve, but I will never be asked to sing by anyone with functioning ears. There’s a difference between enjoying something and being subjected to it, after all.
In my car, I’m a superstar, and these are some of my karaoke jams:
1. Only The Lonely – The Motels
2. Never Surrender – Corey Hart (could this be any more Canadian?)
3. Come Sail Away – Styx
4. Time After Time – Cyndi Lauper
5. No Myth – Michael Penn (I might be the only person who likes this song)
6. Father Figure – George Michael
I’ll sing anything, and god knows my brain is about 84% song lyrics, but I rarely sing in front of other people, except Jillian. She has the misfortune of being related to me and since I am her principal chauffeur, not only does she have to listen to whatever I want to listen to, but she has to hear me sing it, too.
Poor kid.