Alice? Who the....

Whilst still charging about like a blue-arsed fly in the lead-up to the launch of 'Silver Studs and Sabre Teeth', I found a $2.00 CD of compiled glam at my local Big W store. 'Awesome', I thought.  Notwithstanding its dearth of T-Rex, which is kind of what the novel alludes to, I thought it was a bargain.  Before the launch, I finally figured out how to compile a separate glam playlist on my iPod and just played that list at the launch (after scolding my almost-10yo for changing it to 'Get Lucky' by Daft Punk just as the guests were due to arrive).  Anyway, I had to do an evening medication/shower/meal preparation run for work last night, and whilst driving around thought I'd give that cheap CD a spin.  The radio, set as always on AM, was playing a commentary for some football commentators, and let's just say I give less of a shit about football than your average amoeba gives about quantum physics.  Now, I don't know what sadistic engineers got their mitts on these recordings for the CD, but they're all total shit!  None of them sound like the original.  Not really.  They are listed as the original artists, and I do recognise the singing voices, but here's the thing, budding engineers: if it works, don't fix it.  'Bye Bye Baby' by the Bay City Rollers sounds like Macy Gray on helium.  It's bad.  They've given it the UB40 treatment, in that they have decided to try a different twist, and achieved nothing but audio manure.  And to tell you the truth, I don't know that I'd class Smokie as a glam rock act.  I'd class them as cheese, yes.  Embarrassing schlock at times, for sure.  An occasional guilty pleasure, without a doubt.  But glam?  That's drawing one mighty long bow.  And the song the engineers, or whoever, chose in their not so pronounced wisdom?  Yes.  'Living Next Door To Alice'.  Tell me, you out there in the blogosphere, is there ANYBODY on this earth that actually likes that song?  I pulled into the drive (much like the limousine in this stupid song) of an old man for whom I was to prepare dinner and administer medication,  As I braked, the singer lamented and whined, 'Oh, I don't know why she's leaving....'.  I killed the engine, together with the miserable melody, and snarled at the CD player, 'She's leaving to get away from you, you dork, because you've been creeping her out by staring at her over the fence for the past twenty-four years!'

Well, I had better think about some notes on myself for the talk I'm going to give next Thursday evening.  A touch nervous, but quite excited, too.