Singing the 90’s

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I can’t sing to save my life, but I love to sing. One of the best feelings in the world for me is the be cruising like a bat out of hell down an empty highway at 2am while I blast all the songs that I know all the words to so I can sing everything horribly and loudly. Except this isn’t a group exercise. I don’t do this with other people in the car. Sometimes I do it in the shower. For me, this is more of an alone activity just because I like to really let go and be ridiculous.

Let’s face it, I don’t like to be judged and therefore I try not to do things that I would get judged for. I try not to care, but lots of times I do. So when I really want to let loose, I make sure it’s just me, loud music, and a place where I can contort in a reasonable facsimile to dancing. Then I do it like no one is looking, because I’m fair certain that no one is looking.

So last night was weird. I wound up talking to a friend for a few hours over Skype and it was just a whole lot of nothing until he got excited about a song that came on his radio.

Him: Guess what song this is!

Me: It’s probably the doom song.

Him: No. Just guess the song when I sing it!

Then he belted out the lyrics from “Truly, Madly, Deeply,” by Savage Garden. I knew that song. Every. Single. Word. I’d like to say I knew every single note, but I can’t read music, but damn if I didn’t know and love that song.

So he came up with the idea that we would sing each other songs from the 90’s. Then we would guess what we were singing. I thought it was an odd idea, but ok. I went for it. And he really went for it. Song after song, he belted out like there was no tomorrow. He shouted my ear drums raw. He sang every single lyric like I do when I’m flying down a highway like a demon escaping the heavens. Every single word that left his lips sounded like he was so excited that he could have probably peed himself if he didn’t have the bladder control of a normal sober man in his mid-twenties.

At first I just kind of shy sang-spoke my lyrics. I chose my songs by skipping through a 90’s playlist that I have on my computer.

We the Cranberries, the Fugees, Nirvana, Sinead O’Connor, Smashmouth, The Smashing Pumpkins, The Backstreet Boys, House of Pain, Marcy Playground, and even the Marcarena.

Back and forth we went. Him singing his lungs raw and being so passionate that he was about to lose control of his bladder and me, just gently singing whatever lyrics I could find.

WannabeUntil “Wannabe” came on by the Spice Girls.

I can’t resist “Wannabe”. When that song comes on, I stop caring about anything because this is just such a ridiculous song from my pre-teenagehood that I have to not care. When that song comes on, the rest of the world can go fudge itself. I have to sing. It’s like a weird singing poltergeist possesses me. I start to contort and flail around while my face scrunches up like it does when I’m having a hard time pooping. My toes curl! My mouth opens ever so slightly. And that’s when all the words to this song come pouring out like some sort of song vomit because this is what I really really want. This weird happy feeling that I only get when I’m having fun or drinking espresso. The hyper, giddy, giggly feeling as all the words ejaculate themselves off my tongue and into the air as sounds.

After that it was on. My friend and I spent another hour belting out our favourite songs from the 90’s. Then with sore throats, and raspy voices we said good night and went on to do other things that normal adults do when it’s 10pm and you have to get up the next morning for work.

 

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