Lester Bangs had this to say: "What Anne Murray is about, make no mistake, is S-E-X with a capital X." While I agree in theory, taxonomically I beg to differ. When it’s Anne Murray, it’s not sex. No, no. When it’s Anne Murray it’s making love.
A voice this pure demands that we surrender our cold, ironic hearts to beauty, to boogie shadows in the moonlight, to mama now it’s all right. Love has found it’s earthly embodiment in Murray’s rich alto. This one here might be my all time favorite.
Springhill, Nova Scotia, a town known primarily for a series of grisly mining disasters, is now proud home to the Anne Murray Cultural Center. The first diorama contains a number of the singing snowbird’s track suits, remnants of an early, abandoned career in Physical Education! These outfits alone were well worth the 22-hour drive Lefty and I took there in pilgrimage two summers ago.
P.S. Lefty has a theory that this Glen Campbell/Anne Murray duet is the very first mash-up.
1 comment:
I've taken a vow to follow wherever you may lead, no matter how dark or perilous the way may seem. This may be the first true test of my faith.
See you on the other side.
M.E.B.
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