It’s not that everything she ever did was of the highest vocal quality ever. It’s just that most of what she did was of the highest vocal quality ever. If anyone asks me for my top five favourite female vocalists and Chaka Khan’s name isn’t mentioned then you know say it’s a phoney you’re talking to and I’m sure the authorities would not reject an offer to wipe the imposter from the face of the earth. You’ll be doing humanity a favour, for how can anyone deny this woman her place in that glittering array of great woman singers that have adorned this earth.
Thus it is only fitting that highlighting her vocal skills should be a track that celebrates womanhood and gets my wife and daughters jumping up and down in my face repeating the lyrics. Of course I don’t deign to point out how that statement for all four of them doesn’t quite make sense mathematically, cos they have to cook me dinner and iron me clothes and so on (he ducks saucepans aimed at his head and avoids punches targeted at rendering him incapable of further reproductive activities). I hope you know I’m joking … after all I do most of my own ironing.
(For those of you hoping for the usual Tuesday Jarreau fix, you’ll get it on Saturday, I’m sure you don’t mind Al being replaced temporarily with the great diva.)