There is a tremendous album somewhere in my house. I can’t say for certain where it actually is but it’s here somewhere.The reason I can’t put my hands on it right away is simple. I can’t drive with this album. Really. I couldn’t dare. I sing – loudly – with huge enthusiasm and occasionally correct lyrics and my heart soars.
Much as I would love to have that album in my car, I wouldn’t be safe on the road. It would be great for sitting in a lay-by, or drumming my fingers against the steering wheel in a traffic jam that stretches from here to Land’s End. But any suggestion of movement, and I would distract other drivers with the passion of my performance.
So, what is the album?
Tonnes of Toto, mountains of Meatloaf, Alice Cooper (I played School’s Out For Summer for a whole morning, and most of an afternoon, on the day I quit college), lots of Lennon, rollicking Roxy Music, the blessed Blondie. Plus: Doobie Brothers, Lou Reed, Blue Oyster Cult, Status Quo, and the finest of the lot – Python Lee Jackson featuring Rod Stewart.
Really, this can be howled even in a living room. I speak from experience. Go ahead.