I sing in the car. So shoot me.
In actuality, it’s been quite a while since I’ve been
singing in my car. The way I figure it, there are two basic reasons. Firstly I
haven’t been in the humour for singing too much and, secondly, I haven’t been
in the car too much. Two fine reasons, I think you’ll agree.
And when I was making the short, thirty minute, drive over
to Ballina the other morning, I had no predetermined intention of doing any of
my patented car singing. But these things just tend to happen. What happened was, a
song came on the radio and it just fitted into my head very well at that moment
so I sang along with it. With considerable gusto, I might add. After all, it
was just me and the curious faces of the drivers going in the opposite
direction. So why not?
The song, in case you’re wondering, was, “I’ll Have to Say I
Love You in a Song’ by Jim Croce.’ It’s one of those songs that seems to fit
with my ramshackle old bass voice. It’s also one of those songs I forget about
when I think about songs that I might be able to manage. So, catching it on the
radio was a good moment. I sang along, all the way through. Then, when it was
over, I fancied singing it again so I turned the radio off and did just that. I
discovered I ‘d forgotten a few of the words in the middle eight but never
mind. On we ploughed. Incidentally, here’s something else I just discovered. Until
today, I would have sworn to you that the song was called ‘I Had to say I Love
You in a Song’ and, as you can see from the text about, it clearly isn’t. I’ll
probably keep singing it the wrong way now because it’s embedded that way. That
is, if I ever remember to sing it again.
Anyway, I digress. After finishing that little number, to
copious internal applause, I moved on to ‘King of the Road’ by Roger Miller,
which works well but I wish I had a better way of ending it. Then I did a bit
of ‘La Mer’ by Charles Trenet, bluffing the French lyrics as best I can and morphing
the entire hot mess into ‘Beyond the Sea,’ as I tend to do. After that, there
was a bit of ‘I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love with You’ by Tom Waits, from his
very first album ‘Closing Time, back when he wasn’t gravelly. It’s an album
beloved of a large number of Irish people of a certain age. Quite right, it’s a
lovely record, but it’s a shame they don’t know more of his wonderful catalogue.
As if to punch home this point, I did a bit of ‘Chocolate Jesus’ for the
passing motorists. I wound the random little recital up with a brief refrain
from the Broadway show ‘The Fantasticks’ with ‘Try to Remember.’ I think I can
sing this one but, deep down, I know I really can’t. I was in Ballina by then
and it’s not cool to sing in towns. It’s strictly an open road pursuit.
I figured I was done then but there was another bit of a
remote road out the far side of Ballina and I was self-encouraged to attempt an
assault on ‘Cracklin’ Rosie’ by Neil Diamond. It always amuses me to pretend in
my head to be introducing the song and explaining how it is actually an ode to a
sparkling rose wine. It’s a song that seems to be designed to catch the unwary car
singer out. But if I start it off in a low enough register, I can sometimes get
by just bawling out the higher stuff that unleashes in the middle.
Then I was at my destination, a little hoarse but ready to
work.
I think my unprovoked resurrection of my truly awful car singing
may be something of a good sign. Maybe I’m getting back to a little clear water
after a short period of rocking and rolling on the high seas of life. I’ll try
to keep at it if I can, even if it clearly benefits nobody but me.
It reminds me of an age-old Limerick I saw in some book once:
There once were three owls in a wood
Who always sang hymns when they could
What the words were about
One could never make out,
But one felt it was doing them good.
Til next time…
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