It’s happening.When Georgie Fame decides things are hip and happening, they’re hip and happening. He’s got “Fame” right there in his name. He has chicks wearing bikinis two sizes too small on his side. What have you got?
Sunny by Bobby Hebb has got to be the Official Cover Song of the Twenty-Teens. There really is no other explanation for this surge of interest.
GOOD GOD! UGH!
If you’re just tuning in, I’ve decided that Sunny by Bobby Hebb is the Official Cover Song of the Twenty-Teens. If you disagree, please remember that I have James Brown and Mr. Spock on my side.
Game. Set. Match.
Like a salmon swimming upstream to spawn before dying, Leonard Nimoy knew he had to record Sunny by Bobby Hebb before he was beamed off our planet for good. It’s the Official Cover Song of the Twenty-Teens. Why? Because reasons, that’s why.
You have to admit, it’s fascinating.
We’re bad, and we’re nationwide, of course — as long as Google works. But we’re invading other countries, too. It’s no great feat. Everyone’s always invading France. Sometimes they import Corsicans to invade themselves.
Our pronouncement that Sunny by Bobby Hebb is the Official Song of the Twenty-Teens is bearing fruit, or frog’s legs, or something. In honor of this very wonderful and very French version of the song, I’m going to take up smoking unfiltered cigarettes and forgo shaving my armpit hair for a month.
Remember people, “Choisissez votre femme par l’oreille bien plus que par les yeux.”
If you haven’t been following along, about a year ago I made Wichita Lineman the Official Cover Song of the Twenty-Teens. I wield that kind of power.
With great power comes great responsibility, of course. I take my role as the ultimate tastemaker on the Intertunnel seriously. I could have foisted any number of lousy pop songs on an unsuspecting public as the OFFICIAL SONG OF THE INTERTUNNELS!!!11!!!!!!11, and everyone would have nodded and said, “Sippican wouldn’t lie, so Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse must be the greatest song ever written!” Hell, I know my power. I could even have palmed off Walk Away Renee by The Left Banke as the greatest song ever, even though it’s the most dreary, tuneless, and solipsistic song since Andy Williams hung up his figure skates and retired to Branson.
But I didn’t. I do have a cruel streak, but I have to draw the line somewhere. I am mercurial. Changeable. That doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve decided that Sunny by Bobby Hebb is going to be the Official Cover Song of the Twenty-Teens, and that’s that.
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