Saturday morning tunes: Freeways, cars, and trucks
My singing voice is so-so -- by itself it's on key but otherwise fairly nondescript. I'm usually at my best, such as it is, either when I'm harmonizing, or when I'm mimicking someone with a distinctive style, say, a Jeremy Brett or a Janis Joplin. Mainly, I have to rely on someone else's sense of phrasing if I'm going to get through it. But sometimes . . . every now and then . . . I find myself wondering where I'd be today if my voice were as soulfully, heroically ruined as Tom Waits' voice is:
Well, I suppose I'd be heading home in an old Caddy, counting on the first light of dawn to burn away whatever regrets were clinging to me like stale cigarette smoke.