Wednesday, 8 January 2014

Belated Christmas present

For a year now, Ezra has been singing 'Money, Money, Money by Abba. He doesn't want to. It was inflicted on him and his class by the worst music teacher that ever lived — I think they had to sing it, one by one in some sort of ritualistic torture by this sadist woman. Anyway suffice to say, soon enough it had wormed its way in into my brain, replacing a rather amazing song by 'British sea power' Machineries of joy. There was no escape; on waking in the night it would be there — those two women, auburn tresses/ blonde covered with a silver crocheted . . . hat?: Money, money, money, must be funny . . . aargggg!!!!!
After many days and nights, I discovered a cure while driving in my hire car in the UK and fiddling around with the radio, not wanting to listen to 'Money Box' on radio 4.
Heart FM were playing (No, I don't know why) The above featured . . . thing. I hated it then in 1972, and I hate it now; but it is the most effective way of removing any circling-song in your head. Just three words and it's there, implanted like a tic, an infestation of schmaltz, swamping and coating any previous lingering note.
Now I've just got to find something to replace it with.

Incidentally: Wikipedia informs me that the origins of the word Schmaltz is rendered goose fat . . .

Go on, press the arrow . . . three words — I'll be your . . .

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