I never said I could sing

I was driving to a friend's place, sans child and husband, last week and had the obvious occasion to crank up the stereo.

A bit like that (single solitary) amusing scene of Tom Cruise as Jerry Maguire when he's driving home and feelin' pumped, tries to find a song, any song, on the Hicksville radio station band and comes up with Free Fallin', my song was Let's Hear It For The Boy.

Now before we go dissin' Deneice Williams (for just the spelling of her name alone), I am here to proclaim that try as I might, I can never get those last top notes she goes to at the repeat-to-fade part. Lord knows I have attempted over the years too. And I'm impressed with her vocal range, I have to say. I can pretty much keep up, can sort of hit most of the notes when she starts doing that kind of cutesy 80's-inspired stuccato-breathy, broken words thing.

But when she does that last trail of notes starting already crazily high and going right into the startosphere? No way can I follow. I realised *slumped at wheel, dejected* that when I did it, I was trying to be so pitch-perfect (for Mark Holden) that I slowed it right down so got all out of time and, not only that, the heights of those notes were so damn out of my reach that in order to even attempt to get close them, I sounded like a chimp.

So there you have it. Every time I hear the end of that song now, I'm going to be picturing a cheeky jumping chimpanzee doing the "Hoo haa haaa HAAAAAA!" thing up a tree.