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If you could read my mind – Stars On 54

Damn work. Not the Gordon Lightfoot version, not the Viola Wills version, but this horrible version from that horrible movie. If i were to come upon a large sum of money i would buy the requisite licensing from the original artists for use in supermarkets everywhere (fuck, i work in a supermarket!). Not for the customers, not for the image of the companies, but for the suffering employees who cannot escape this muzak. Especially the late night ones who don’t have the noise of crowds and screaming children to drown out this endless cycle of from-the-factory surefire hit cover songs and relics of top 40s past.

The cheapness shows. We get Atomic Kitten instead of the Bangles, Blondie and Dionne Warwick; Nicki French instead of Bonnie Tyler; Hillary Duff instead of the Go-Go’s; Tina Cousins, Billie Piper, Steps, Cleopatra and B*Witched instead of ABBA. And so on. With the background noise of the daytime you can almost pretend the songs you want to hear. At night there is no escape. I’m not opposed to cover songs, it’s just the ones i suffer through aren’t interpretations i want to hear, and do not deliver me enough from this hell i, through convenience and lack of imagination, have placed myself in.

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