IT ends in a dramatic climax as Dean Friedman and Denise Marsa stare at each other like it’s never been so profound:
And we can thank our lucky stars that we’re not as smart as we like to think we are!
This is a song with some real gems, lyric wise. One of the best moments of my retail career was asking a customer, who had put his card into the wrong chip and pin device, to ‘slide over here’. It’s a phrase which should give every sane person the shivers, but the moment was so perfect I just couldn’t turn it down. And he seemed to think it was perfectly normal.
I can’t imagine it making number 3 now, but this was the 70s, when extensive saxophone solos performed by badly-lit – presumably as the attention couldn’t be diverted from the main act – saxophonists were in fashion. Just look at Gerry Rafferty’s Baker Street (which I genuinely think is alright as a matter of fact).
But despite it’s cheesiness beyond the level of anything else I’ve heard in my life, it makes great contributions to conversations. But although I know many a Lisa, I’ve yet to find one who still goes around as if she is always stumbling off a cliff. Maybe historically, but not still.
So here it is. By the way, I forgot to say, your endearing mother called today.
