Wednesday, 21 June 2017
In the Pointer Sisters version, has been a favourite of mine, perhaps even holding the number one spot, for over a year now, since I picked up their album ‘Black and White’ in my trawl through bargain bins in search of the entire Pointer Sisters catalogue. I played the album, recognised the tune from childhood AM radio, recalled a fondness, found it akin to much of the sappy AOR I currently dig (and a far cry from other Pointer Sisters smashers like ‘Automatic’), played it again… liked it a bit more, played it again…. And so on, over and over, and over again. I then waxed lyrical to my chums about what a masterpiece it was when out at the pub, before rushing home to play it again. What a song!
Reading about the song’s history I discovered that for songwriters John Bettis and Michael Clark, the Pointer Sisters were about the last band they had in mind to record it. They were thinking Conway Twitty, who recorded a pretty similar version, performed live here in utterly bonkers surrounds. The audience are comotose, and frequently looking the other way, while Conway lumbers lazily - but proficiently - through those oh so moving cadences:
Since then I've picke dit up on 7inch (Pointer Sisters singles are pretty widespread), and on another album, and got the wav file so I can rinse it to death. I play it publicly at every opportunity I get, and am yet to tire of it. Recently I was singing along to it, loudly, while scrubbing mould off the bathroom walls and my family recorded it, so i even have my own bathroom rendition of it. May the versions continue...