There’s a handful of songs that can bring me to a point of running for cover so no one sees me misting up like a twit or having to pretend the wind just blew really hard in my eyes. A song on my mind this week, which might be an unusual choice for a female such as me and although yes it’s about love, it’s not the sort of love that has anything to do with a guy breaking my heart.
Not like the obvious pain left from Sinead O’Connor’s bald headed rendition of Nothing Compares To You that I battled with long ago, mainly because it was released the same week as I broke up with my first boyfriend, but even then I think I was being a lot more dramatic about my lost love than I actually really felt. Although you’d never have known if you’d caught me singing and bawling into my dressing table mirror at the time.
Harry Chapin’s ‘Cats in The Cradle’ will always be another toughie for me, growing up living in a different State to my father, as he collected us from the airport my brother and I would demand he turned this track up full bore as we’d all have a belt-athon driving back home to his house for the holidays. Not thinking for a second this song will be a total nightmare down the track when he’s gone.
But there’s one song that isn’t necessarily a song that as a female I’m gagging to admit I’ve always been a tad obsessed with, to the point where if it were a person and I saw it coming down the street, I would without thinking, get it affectionately in a headlock and squeeze the lyrics out of it.
This song that I am so grateful for because it gave me such fabulous childhood memories and that can still stir up something deep inside that instantly reminds of a time in history that felt simple, a song that makes me emotional whenever I hear it, I’ve carried on enough, is called UP THERE CAZALY.
There you have it, I still get sniffley over a song that describes a man going up in the ruck yet I can listen to Sinead O’Connor with barely a flicker.
So I hope rumours are true that Mike Brady will be singing his footy anthem on Grand Final day in front of a nation that desperately needs a moment to feel good about. A moment that brings that wave of emotion unexpectedly up into your throat and then tries to escape out your little eyeballs if you’re not careful to push them back. We need that. We all need that ‘one day in September’ moment because I don’t think we’ve had a collective moment for a while.
We Australians have a game that is unique to us and even if you’re like me who hasn’t followed every match, every goal or knows half the players names as it were, I do know we’re lucky to have our Australian Rules Football and we do not need anyone but the best Australian singers to be part of our day.
It’s a shame that we’ve gone through so many years trying to be this poor man’s Super Bowl. Employing Americans to give us credibility when not only do we have home grown talent pouring out of our ears, can’t we just enjoy one day where it’s all about being Australian?
A day not tarnished by some poor foreigner singing “Hello Is It Me You’re Looking For?” when all I want to do is shout “no, with all due respect, no it’s absolutely not you darling.” We shouldn’t invite talent that isn’t right for our day and then bag them when they leave either.
Thank god we’re finally getting real this year with our Grand Final talent. I honestly think that one guy on a guitar, singing the words ‘cause there’s one day in September…’ will be more exciting and emotive than anything else a foreigner could serenade us with.