"Color My World/Who Am I" by Petula Clark
Picasso once appeared to me in a dream, explaining: "You know why all of us famous people are famous? Because of our names!" Petula Clark is almost as great a name as Pablo Picasso (but not quite -- that's why Picasso is more celebrated). According to unruly Wikipedia, the pop singer is the first Petula in history, her name having being invented by her father, Leslie, who was a nurse (like her mother, Doris).
This record has two titles -- the only such double-named album I can think of -- plus a subtitle: "and other doozies." This confusing nomenclature -- and the chatty, repetitive liner notes, by Stan Cornyn, which begin: "Petula Clark, who is not much taller than a hyper-thyroid fire plug..." -- suggest anxiety among the corporate managers at Warner Bros. who released this 12-song collection in 1966 (Petula's sixth album). The two titles also represent the two best songs on the record, which were also the only (minor) hits. (I remember them from 7th grade.)
Petula Clark can't sing! I never knew this. And perhaps I shouldn't know this. I hope she doesn't read this posting. (Maybe I can place a notice at the top: "Petula, don't bother with this! You're 79 years old! Enjoy yourself!") Petula can sing an unforgettable hit song -- she has perfect rhythm, and insistence -- but she can't sing real music. After about six notes, her capable vibrato puts you to sleep. Petula fails to analyze the subtleties of a lyric. Besides, she or someone else chose unforgivably crappy songs: "Winchester Cathedral," "Please Don't Go" -- or great tunes she should not attempt, such as "Reach Out, I'll Be There." [For some reason, it's impossible to reverse the gender of a Beatles song. "Here, There, and Everywhere" -- a boring song to begin with -- is absolutely meaningless sung to a guy. My theory is that The Beatles are characters in their songs. You see them in your mind, playing out the stories they sing.]
"Color My World," essentially a country-western song for sitar and enormous drum, describes the simple pleasures of LSD.
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