In my youth, Sundays were always for relaxing. But as the years have stretched on, all too many days of rest have turned into days I push pedal to the metal and try to jam in anything I can before the week’s normal downpour of work befalls me. As you can imagine, a nice steaming cup of coffee to start off the day can make it all seem somewhat more civilized. Though not every Sunday…

I’m actually down to 1-3 cups of decaf a day from the 20-30 caffeinated ones I used to throw back when I first started to write songs. In the 70’s, the coffee machine and Pong were the only social breaks for a working musician with a permanent reservation in a recording studio.

These days, I usually pour a cup as soon as I wake up.  Then I sit down at my computer and go through an average 100 emails, curate and post at least ten new artifacts submitted to my social network, The Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch, not to mention dealing with two Facebook pages, a Tweet, feeding three cats, getting my assistant up to speed for the day’s tasks, and returning any phone calls to people still living in the Stone Age who don’t email or text, none of which accounts for the songwriting, art, video, animation or other duties that constitute what my real work is that I need to prep for each morning.  All of which gets me to the bottom of an average cup of decaf before I’m a tenth of the way through.  Which is why this triple size stack is the answer to my prayers.

Also, for someone as lazy as me when it comes to exercise, saving the ten steps from my main computer to the kitchen for a refill is to be considered.

I also like looking sharp while sipping.

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Join me and Hidden Los Angeles and send a Valentine’s Day card to Milly Del Rubio. Details below.

Anyone who knows me knows that two of the most important things in the world to me are music and kitsch. Songs I’ve written have sold over 50 million records and, to the best of my knowledge, I have the largest collection of kitsch artifacts in the world. Discovering The Del Rubio Triplets in 1985 is easily the jewel in my musical kitsch crown.

I first saw the Del Rubios in 1985 on a flyer that said “Three Gals/ Three Guitars…We play 375 different kinds of music”. I didn’t even know there was 375 different kinds of music but between that and the mini skirted, go-go booted, platinum hair helmeted madness of their photo I called them immediately and made plans to go to a party they were playing at that weekend.

My party date was Katey Sagal a.k.a. Peg Bundy. The breath was literally knocked out of both of us when the triplets opened the door to the porta potty-like shed that was their dressing room and we beheld the most magnificent  vestiges of human kitsch we had ever seen. I didn’t care what they sounded like, I knew they had to sing my songs.

Out of the 375 different types of music the Del Rubios played, conspiculously missing was Rock or anything remotely contemporary. I told them that playing “today’s” music was going to be their rocket to stardom and said that if they learned my song, “Neutron Dance”, a huge hit by the Pointer Sisters at the time, I would hire them to play at a party I was throwing in a couple weeks to open a new club downtown called The Stock Exchange.

And so they preformed for 2000 of my closest friends, all of whom stood gaped-mouthed as the 65+ year old minskirted sisters gave much leg and warbled from a balcony 20 feet above the crowd.

No one had ever seen or heard anything like it before, the triplets perfectly in tune with each out-of-tune other, playing similarly out-of-tune guitars and smacking drum solos on the sides of their instruments. As they plowed into “Neutron Dance” I looked down and saw the crowd parting to make room for a mound of hair that was pushing to the front. I realized that the moment I had always waited for, the ultra smashing together of the high and low ends of music into one perfectly mangled moment of musical expression, was upon me! As the Del Rubios finished the song, Ruth Pointer, who sang lead on “Neutron Dance”, wove her way up the circular staircase and ripped into the song again. With her help, The Del Rubio Triplets had ARRIVED:

For the next few years I did almost nothing without the triplets. They performed at every single party I threw, including a pajama party where they backed Joni Mitchell.

The Del Rubios had long told me that their main competition back in the day was The Andrews Sisters. But when Maxine Andrews showed up at the pajama party it was the first she’d heard of them.

In 1987, my song, “What Have I Done To Deserve This?”, was a hit with Pet Shop Boys and Dusty Springfield. Neil and Chris were obsessed with the triplets and always wanted to do a duet with them. The Del Rubios preformed the song when it was #2 on the Billboard charts at my “What Have I Done To Deserve This Art?” opening.

The video I made of them performing it there expired when I left it on the front seat of my Studebaker Commander in a heat wave but here’s the outro of them singing the song on the Victoria Looseleaf show a couple of years later:

In 1991, they were a complete hit at my “Smock It To Me (Art Can Taste Bad In Any Medium)” party where they entertained a plethora of show business luminaries. There’s pieces of “Neutron Dance” and “Whip It” with Devo lead, Mark Mothersbaugh, accompanying them at 3:14 here:

Once I called legendary record exec, Clive Davis, and told him I had made the most significant  talent discovery of my career. I loaded the Del Rubios into a van and drove to the Beverly Hills Hotel. Clive opened the door to his bungalow, took one look at them, hugged me and whispered in my ear, ”You owe me big time”.

In 1989 there was a fairly substantial earthquake in LA. It was before I learned the beauty of museum wax to stop things from falling and hundreds of precious kitsch and Atomic 50’s artifacts lay smashed on the floor. As such, I was in a complete fog and almost didn’t hear the doorbell when it rang. I thought it was one of my neighbors offering to turn the gas back on but instead it was Eadie, Elena and Milly, replete in matching fuscha mini party dresses and their ever present white go-go boots, ready for an interview I was doing with them for  Details Magazine, where I had my own column through much of the ’80s.

Throughout the years, I spent a lot of time in the Del Rubio’s mobile home.

They stayed up every night drinking one martini each and sewing their costumes, of which they had hundreds, all miniskirts or mini dresses, one nuttier and more fringe filled than the next. Every night once the sewing was done they would plan new arrangements on their trusted toy Emenee organ, the keys of which had all been stuck for at least three years when I met them, the victim of a spilled jug of martinis. I asked them why they never cleaned the keys so the organ actually made some sound and they always assured me they “could hear it perfectly fine the way it was”.

I documented much of our escapades in the aforementioned Details interview. The 27 page cut-down-to 3 page interview – the girls were excessive gabbers – helped expose them to a national audience and  they went on to appear on tons of TV shows including  multiple Lettermens, Arsenio Hall, Pee Wee’s Christmas Special, The Golden Girls and on and on.

The Del Rubio Triplets did everything in the order they were born. There were only 15 minutes separating each of them but Eadie was clearly the oldest, always standing on the left, Elena, born next, was always in the middle and Milly, the youngest, was always on the right. They sat in this order, ate at the table in that order, went to the bathroom each morning in that order, preformed on stage in that order and even slept in the same bed in that order.

As fate would have it, the Del Rubios also died in that order, Eadie  departing in 1996 with Elena following four years later. Milly is thankfully still with us.

I’ve written and worked with some amazing singers over the years, Bob Dylan, James Brown, Aretha, Cyndi Lauper, Patti LaBelle and Earth, Wind & Fire among them. But none swept me away with as much gusto as The Del Rubio Triplets. We should all be blessed with such belief in self and joy for what we do. They never questioned their talent, never suffered a creative block, never got tired of performing for adoring audiences who greeted them with laughter, which they always said was “better than applause”.

That last photo, from their 1995 Christmas card, is typical of the Del Rubios who were freaks about maintaining order and tradition. Even though they’re perched out of their usual order, with Milly now on the left and Eadie on the right, they signed their names in the order they were most used to, with Milly on the right and Eadie on the left. I never asked them whether they knew that they were signing under the wrong triplet.

Valentines Day is coming up and I’d love nothing more than to shower Milly with thousands of Valentine’s Day cards. So please join me and Hidden Los Angeles and send a Valentines Day card to Milly Del Rubio, c/o Allee Willis, 11684 Ventura Blvd., Suite 430, Studio City, CA 91604. With all that love pouring in and Milly seeing that she’s still getting her props maybe we can get her to pick up her guitar one last time.

Sorry this is so last-minute (not as sorry as I am for that crazy smile on my face) but if you have a chance to catch or TiVo The Kennedy Center Honors tonight, Jennifer Hudson is singing my song, “I’m Here”, to Oprah when she gets her honor. The Kennedy Center Honors are on CBS, I think at 9 pm. I’m told it’s toward the beginning of the show but with this said, you never know how things are going to be edited and whether the song is going to be there or not. But I have a lot of friends who were there and said it’s fantastic. Of course, it’s a great honor to know that “I’m Here” is part of such an honor for Oprah!

“I’m Here” is the lead character, Celie’s, big song or as they call it in the theater, the 11 o’clock song, in the musical I co-wrote with Marsha Norman, Stephen Bray, and Brenda Russell, The Color Purple.

Here I am with my co-authors the first time we met Oprah in 2005 when she walked into a rehearsal to announce she was coming onboard:

The Color Purple ran on Broadway for two and a half years and is going into its fourth year on tour.

That’s not seventh place American idol winner Jennifer Hudson in the poster, it’s first place Fantasia, who starred as Celie for a year on Broadway and for some of the First National Tour. Coincidently, LaToya London, who came in fourth, played Celie’s sister, Nettie, on tour.

Our original Celie on Broadway was the brilliant LaChanze, who won the Tony for Best Actress, our only win out of 11 nominations, one more than the movie got with the same number of noms.

Oprah definitely enjoyed producing The Color Purple:

There’s nothing inherently kitschy about Oprah Winfrey but in terms of my connection to her as producer of my musical, I love the kitsch value of the following photo. One waits a lifetime to be spoken to by Oprah and here I am not even paying attention…

Here we are opening night of the First National Tour in Chicago, May, 2007. I have no idea who we were all looking at.

The lyrics of “I’m Here” are a testament to the survival of the human spirit despite incredible odds. I saw an interview with Paul McCartney, who also receives an honor tonight, saying that what touched him the most was that all of the winners came from exceedingly humble beginnings and overcame incredible odds to become who they are. So “I’m Here” seems like a perfect match. You can read the lyrics and hear an incredibly fuzzy made-by-someone-who-snuck-a-camera-into-the-theater recording of Fantasia singing the song here. To hear the real thing, a version I co-produced with Fantasia and a 30 piece live orchestra, check it out on iTunes on Fantasia’s Back To Me CD.

For anyone doubting whether they have any worth, “I’m Here” is your theme song. Lucky for me, it’s Oprah’s tonight.

Nothing especially kitschy here but soulful and slammin’ and I’ve always been a massive Run DMC fan so was most excited to be in the studio yesterday writing, recording and singing with DMC! My friend Gail Zappa, pictured with us, married to Frank and mom of Dweezil, Moon, Ahmet and Diva, set it all up as DMC’s producer, the great Jared Lee Gosselin, was recording in Frank’s studio.

I had an absolute blast, we wrote lightning fast – finished 90% of the record in a day –  and it sounds fantastic! A little more work on it this week and hopefully it will be out in about a month. Will keep you posted.

Special words from the God of Kitsch who watched over us:

I absolutely loved The Fifth Dimension. I loved Jimmy Webb and I loved Laura Nyro, the songwriters who wrote some of their biggest hits, both of whom were major influences on my songwriting career and the latter of whom was one of the first artists I worked with when I got a job at Columbia and Epic Records fresh outta college. Nyro wrote songs like “Wedding Bell Blues”, “Stone Soul Picnic” and “Save The Country” while Webb wrote The Fifth’s first major hit, “Up Up and Away”, as well as “Carpet Man”and my favorite though slightly more obscure Fifth song, “Paper Cup”.

My 7-Eleven Slurpee cup may not be a paper cup but it’s plastic and lasts forever which seems like it would have been a more appropriate kind of cup for Jimmy Webb to write about crawling into and wanting to live forever.

The likenesses on this plastic Slurpee cup bear little resemblance to the real persons.  For example, here’s Billy Davis, Jr. in plastic next to Billy Davis, Jr. in real life:

They didn’t even get his signature pencil-thin-mustache-that-turns-into-a-goatee and certainly shortchanged him on his Afro. 7-Eleven did a better job on some of the other 1970’s rock star Slurpee cups I’ve collected:

Though neither Smokey Robinson nor Grand Funk seemed the types to merchandise themselves by aligning with a convenience store, especially as this kind of stuff was rare in the 1970’s, but maybe they liked Slurpees as much as I did. The Fifth Dimension seemed a more likely choice because of their sugary and delicious pop sound.

I’m so NOT the type to wear a ring with a G-clef on it or have one of those cheesy license plates like GR8T BEAT. My gold records don’t hang in the living room so they’re the first things you see when you walk in and my clothes aren’t Bedazzled with musical notes. But this ring is so stone cold handtooled 1960s my finger had to have it.

I bought the ring about 10 years ago on eBay from someone in Memphis. I can feel a heavy barbecue-grease-guitar-picking vibe every time I slip it on. It also weighs a ton, quite a surprise as it looked like a cheap plastic gum ball machine prize ring in the photo online. So I end up wearing it a lot. Like I did Saturday night when I went out with my friend, Stan Zimmerman, though the hand I’m holding up in this photo unfortunately isn’t the one my fabulous music ring was on.

As unlikely as I am to have musical notes pasted all over my personal accouterments I’m just as unlikely to show up at a party where singers and songwriters take turns singing their own songs. I’m around music and singing all day; I don’t want to be around music and singing all night. Plus, despite my musical proclivities I don’t play an instrument so the possibility of me even being able to plunk the opening note of one of my songs at a party like this is nil. But there were the ring and I and Stan at a party that featured just that, thrown by voice coach to the stars, Eric Vetro, and songwriter/producer to the stars, Desmond Child. So many of my friends were there though that me, Stan and the ring had a great time despite not participating in the main event.

I go wayyyyyyy back with the first folks I saw, from (L-R) Rick Nowels, Maria Vidal, (me), Toni Basil, and Desmond Child.

Soooooo far back that I was practically in diapers when we met. Desmond and Maria were in a group called Desmond Child & Rouge who, in the mid 1970’s, sang at Reno Sweeney, a cabaret in Manhattan where I was the person who walked around the city by day nailing up fliers of upcoming performances. I saw them sing every night because in addition to my $20 a day salary I got to eat at Reno’s for free. Maria married Rick in the late 80’s. Between me, Desmond and Rick we’ve sold somewhere around 500,000,000 records and have had just about as many great times together. What we all had in common was also Bette Midler, the biggest thing to come out of the New York cabaret scene and the biggest jewel in our show biz clique. Even back in the 70’s Toni Basil was Bette’s choreographer. She was also one of my first friends and collaborators when I moved to LA in 1976. Here were are in 1982 at a party I threw for her when “Mickey” went #1.

Here we are Saturday night with singer Sarah Hudson and X-Factor’s Storm Lee thrown in.


Maria and I also spent a lot of time in a corner chatting with Frances Fisher.

Another friend from my 1970’s NY days at the party Saturday night was Allan Rich, who sang at Catch A Rising Star, the big comedy club where I was the hatcheck girl at the time. Allan got his big break when he was a shoe salesman and gave Barry Manilow a tape of his songs when he sold him some shoes.

I spent a lot of time talking to Michael Orland, the Music Director at American Idol and with whom I’m about to start writing tomorrow.

I’m completely sick of not being able to sing my own songs at parties like this so, just like an American Idol, I’m also going to rehearse a little medley of my hits with Michael so when Eric and Desmond throw this party again next year I can get up and sing instead of chatting through everyone’s songs because so many of my friends are there.  Like songwriter extraordinaire, Diane Warren.

But despite how much musical talent was at the party there was clearly one star that shone brighter for me than any other and that was THE BEAVER!!!

Jerry Mathers, The Beaver, who I watched incessantly as  a kid…

The same Beaver whose memorabilia I’ve faithfully collected all these years…

The same Beaver who’s going to come over in a few weeks and autograph all that memorabilia!! If I collected memorabilia from anything as recent as Desperate Housewives I would also invite Marc Cherry, seen here waiting for his car with me, Stan and The Beav.

All in all, it was a great night for me, Stan and my funky l’il music ring!

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I LOVVVVED conducting! I hope that’s evident in this clip. I’m grateful I got the footage I did though I’d planned to have at least five times as much of it to edit from. But as the journey below illustrates, the path was a little more crooked than I’d anticipated though well worth every swing of the drumstick!

I’m a fanatic archivist. I’ve been a walking reality show since I got my first video camera in 1978, racking up over 40,000 terabytes on my server, most of which is video. At any given point I have at least three fairly recent models of whatever’s at the high end of the consumer line as well as a bunch of other cheaper backups. I also have three Flip cams and all of my digital still ones take video. So when I was going to conduct the marching band at my alma mater, the University of Wisconsin, this past Homecoming weekend, an incredible honor especially for someone who has no idea what all those dots on the musical staff mean, I took all my artillery with me. God only knows how much I paid for overweight luggage but I had at least nine cameras capable of taking video as well as three tripods, two extendable poles so the cameras could be elevated, 15 batteries, three lights and three mics. I prepared for every conceivable eventuality as there was no way I wasn’t going to fully capture what I knew was going to be one of the greatest experiences of my life.

I wanted to preserve a birds eye view of what I was seeing up on the platform as I conducted so I constructed a rig to hold one of my flip cameras around my neck so it could capture most of my arm movements as well as whatever musicians were in my line of sight.

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But as soon as I finished conducting I realized that although I had turned the camera on I forgot to hit ‘record’. I stayed cool knowing all was not lost because I had four backups – 1) Mark Blackwell, who came with me from LA and was was never more than 20 feet away capturing all the sweaty details and whom I was directing throughout the performance.

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2) Eddie Alshuler, who Mark and I were staying with and who was sitting directly across the field from where I was conducting on the 50 yard line, who could capture a front view of me and an excellent overview of the 300+ piece band. But as I blogged about yesterday, Mark’s footage snagged at a crucial point in the first song, “In The Stone”, where arm movements I’d practiced for two weeks to make the slowed down section at the entrance of the fade-I have no idea what that’s called in musical terms-ultra dramatic. Now Eddie’s footage consisted solely of his wife and my sorority sister, Muffin’s, crotch as the camera lay in her lap waiting to be turned on when, in fact, it was actually already in ‘record’, only to be snapped off the second I mounted the platform. Here’s me conducting from Eddie’s camera’s POV:

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Once I left the conducting platform Eddie turned the camera off, which was actually on, so we got an excellent few bonus minutes of Muffin’s ass.

Alternative #3 was another one of my sorority sisters who shot the pregame tailgate performance where I also conducted. But she’s incredibly short so all of her footage featured a booming bass drum with me like a little ant flailing their arms above it.

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Number 4 was the husband of another one of my sorority sisters who got some great shots of me but you only see the tops of the heads of a small portion of the band.

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So as grateful as I am for all these people manning my cameras, I didn’t end up with enough footage I could edit together so you’d feel the impact or scope of what was going on. In previous days, the fact that both primary and backup systems failed would have killed me, but with age I’ve learned to roll with the punches. I really think that’s how my sense of kitsch became so well honed, appreciating when things went awry and figuring out a way to deal with them. How else would I ever be talking about Muffin’s body parts in a post that’s about my debut as a conductor? If all I wrote about was the wonderfulness of conducting this would probably be a very boring read to anyone other than a marching band freak.

As one final backup, I decided to go through footage from my rehearsal with the band the day before on the practice field. But the bulk of that was either shot from the back of my head as I tried to concentrate on memorizing the arrangement…

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… or on documenting me as I tried to figure out what I was going to stand on to conduct. I’m not one to stand still so the thought of having to keep my feet in cement on a tiny platform ten feet in the air while I’m enduring several other distracting conditions was of major concern to me. 1) I don’t read music and don’t have particularly great memorization skills so the chances of looking like I am leading the band are questionable to begin with. 2) I’m performing in front of 82,000 people when the bulk of my stage experience has been as a little fur tree in my second grade play. 3) I’m sweating to death in the unexpected 84° weather and don’t really have the right clothes despite bringing everything I had with the school color, red, in it. 4) I will be bouncing around on a knee with a ripped meniscus that I’ve put off having an operation on and, 5) I’m waving around sticks with two bum wrists from decades of pounding on keyboards. So the issue of safety while conducting is real.

First I tried a smaller version of the ladder Mike Leckrone, the incredible bandleader/arranger who’s been at Wisconsin since I was there in the 60’s, usually stands on.

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But the little platform you stand on was only a couple inches deeper than my big feet and I wasn’t eager to meet my death or crush one of the kids guarding me. So I passed on that and finally settled on something that would only involve a broken ankle or two if I fell.

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In fact, I almost tipped over three times during the real deal in the stadium. You can see the first time  at 1:02 in the video

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… and again at 1:29…

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… and finally at 3:00 where I really thought I was going to kiss the dirt.

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Thankfully I made it off alive, ankles, wrists and knee intact, and stayed in rhythm 98.3% of the time. I’ve been obsessed about being a conductor ever since.

Once I got back to LA and transferred the footage I realized my only option was to stick with what Mark shot on the field with me and abandon the idea of putting in different angles to make it more compelling or cover every time it got to an angle on my face or body that made me grimace.

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I’m the one who always carries on about loving yourself just as you are so I’ve mentally committed to not spotting the flaws but, rather, to just seeing the spirit that gripped me at the moment. But then I see the video once it’s been uploaded to YouTube and the sync is unbearably off. Now this really drives me nuts because I know the sound and picture as the clip sits on my computer is completely in sync but now, because of YouTube’s ever-changing compression schemes, I’m going to look like an idiot. This then brings up all my issues about designing a social network in 1992 based on things like people’s home movies and becoming friends and collaborators with people all over the world but never getting it off the ground because I was too concerned about screwing copyright owners when someone used something they created without paying for it. I can’t even believe that this is coming up for me now! YouTube thrives because it doesn’t pay people like me royalties and now they’re messing with my conducting debut! I digress, but it ate up most of yesterday to finally get something uploaded that didn’t make it look like I was conducting a band in the next state.

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So here’s what I’m left with: footage from one camera that has a blip in it right at the exact second of my one big rehearsed move that’s shot too close when I can’t move my feet, forcing the lower half of my body to function differently than it should when the top half is moving as it was, wishing I had starched my pants so they didn’t look like I had just pulled them out of a suitcase overstuffed with camera equipment, none of which functioned properly anyway. And the camera’s close enough that I can see a flinch of sadness when we hit the final bars of the final song, the theme from Friends.

When I was first told what songs of mine I’d be conducting I didn’t understand how the Friend’s theme made it there, especially over marching band favorites like “Boogie Wonderland” or “Neutron Dance” that were left out. But another blessing of this trip was the opportunity to conduct Mike Leckrone’s seriously incredible arrangement of it.

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I’m standing up there on the podium thinking that in the context of everything that was happening, “I’ll Be there for You” was the grandest sounding song of all. So in addition to everything else I’m thankful for that occurred last weekend, a serious supreme joy was letting me appreciate my song in a way that so many people have told me through the years that they do. Sometimes it takes massive distance from something you do to appreciate why you did it in the first place.

Such is the life of an artist. Such is the joy of conducting a marching band playing your songs. Such is life.

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Once an intro includes shooting a blank wall and someone tripping on stage you know that you have the potential for something great. Once the singing starts though I thought it was going to pan out to be a little too good. But that Caucasian-spiked arrangement I talk about a lot that so many school chorale groups follow with all the “hey hey heys”, new harmonies and rhythms straightened out to be so on the beat that the funk gets thrown out like an old piece of fish, is alive and well here. The fun really starts at 1:43 when someone steps out to solo. That’s when I am certain that whoever wrote this arrangement was drinking. I don’t know where they got the melody from – literally not one note of is right for that point in the song as it jumps from the lead vocal to a bizarre background note. And then there’s that wrong lyric that constantly drives me nuts that, because someone was too lazy to get the sheet music from the publisher and thought they were hearing it correctly from the record, went with it in their arrangement, perpetuating the inaccuracy forever.  It’s also fantastic how the mic is handed off to a second soloist who then steps out front with it dangling at his side and continues singing backgrounds as if only a lead vocal needed a mic. The vocal that finally comes left me speechless. Only to be capped off by that funky little ending the aforementioned arranger, who I’m certain only listens to theater music, wrote.