I really like singing. Actually, it’s kind of a problem.
Is there such a thing as Musical Tourette Syndrome? I think I might have it.
I sing really bad songs. Catastrophically bad songs. At the worst times. Without realizing it. I’ll be on a crowded elevator and I’ll realize somewhere around the 20th floor that I’ve been singing, “Love Will Keep Us Together,” by The Captain and Tenille since the lobby. I’m up to the line, “You (you, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) You belong to me now…” and I’ll realize what I’m doing and kind of let it peter out.
Or I’ll be at a funeral, my mind wandering, and I’ll call out, “Heeey, Macarena,” realize people are looking at me, and mumble my way into prayerful reverie. “Macarena sh’vua yud…”
I had an acute episode some years ago while driving my teenage daughter and her best friend to a concert at their school. This is already a mildly embarrassing experience for my daughter, as teenagers are not supposed to even have parents. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there is this hysterical laughter from the back seat. And when I ask, “What’s so funny?” they are laughing even more hysterically. And then I think back and realize I’ve just crooned the following lines from Jesus Christ, Superstar:
He’s a man…
He’s just a man…
And I’ve haaaaad so many men before, in very many waaaaaays…
He’s just one more
“It’s just the words to the song,” I protest. “It’s not, like, autobiographical.” But this just precipitates a brand-new explosion.
Come to think of it, I have a question:
What does that song mean, exactly? I get the part that goes, “And I’ve had so many men before”. But what about the next part: “In very many ways”? How many ways are there? I’m counting two, maybe three ways tops. Very many? That’s gotta be more than just “many”. “Many” might be say twenty ways. So “very many” would be like a hundred, right? Holy crap, my life has been boring. Dear Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, can you please clarify exactly how many ways you’re referring to, and what precisely they are?
Anyway….back to my “condition”. You’re probably thinking it’s some kind of joke. Well it happens to be extremely serious, I’ll have you know! You try going to the supermarket and singing to the check-out lady, apropos of nothing, “Let me hear your body talk.”
By the way, if you don’t recognize this famous line of poetry, with its simple, Haiku-like beauty, it comes, of course, from Olivia Fig Newton-John’s, “Physical”:
Let’s get physical, physical
I want to get physical
Let’s get into physical
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk
Let me hear your body talk
Is it just me? I don’t really want to hear anyone’s body talk. It’s definitely not, like, a major turn-on. Is this one of the “very many ways”?
How do you know if you too suffer from Tourettes Musica? Have you had a conversation like this one that I recently had with Mrs. Rotting Post?
Mrs. Post: Will You Please Stop That Horrible Singing???
Me: Singing? Was I singing?
Mrs. Post: Yes! You were singing, “Who Let the Dogs Out!”
Me: I really don’t think so.
Mrs. Post: Yes you were! I can’t take it!
Me: I think you misheard. I was just clearing my throat. It sounded a lot like, “Who Let the Dogs Out.”
Mrs. Post: You weren’t clearing your throat.
Me: (Throat-clearing, barking, coughing sounds) There. I’m fine now.
Mrs. Post: Oh my God! Just shoot me now.
Me: Yes, dear.
If so, you could be a fellow sufferer. Sadly, as of now, there is no known cure. But there is hope. Research is helping identify the precise genetic mutation that causes one to warble during your colonoscopy Madonna’s iconic ballad:
Like a virgin
Touched for the very first time
Send your tax-deductible donation to:
Will You Please Shut The Hell Up?
17 Dancing Queen Terrace
MacArthur Park, CA 31035
Hope everyone had a great holiday!