ROLLING IN THE SLUDGE

The radio station I’ve been listening to has become lame. I’m hearing the same songs the same time of day all the time.

I hate that.

Increasingly, I’ve been turning it off entirely.
I had it on Friday, and they played some horrible song and I thought about turning it off.

But then another song came on, a catching little tune by some chick with a great voice. It was so “POP” that it had to have enough cyclamate in it to kill a pony. I really couldn’t stand it, but neither could I turn away. I listened and wondered about that voice.

It wasn't Janis, or Grace Slick; it didn’t have the personality of Chrissy Hynde, or even Edie Brickell; it was a thick sweet syrupy voice, like drinking non-dairy hazelnut creamer right out of the container. It was kind of like Cher maybe, without all the testosterone; it was Madonna, minus the Prozac.
Who could it be?

And then, the horror of it all. Suddenly I knew it was the artist I’ve avoided all year. I’ve never heard one of her songs straight through, but I knew I was listening to Adele.
I have got to find a new radio station.

Put a hat on her and you got Boy George.

Crack her in half and Andy Devine and Cindy Lauper come crawling out.