He had the lot. He sung from the right place, not just from the heart, but from the diaphragm too.

Lord I moved on in Lord I whispered come on and move with me Move with me move with me move with me darlin' Aw don't be shy I'm gonna mess witcha, mess witcha, mess witcha, Mess witcha, mess witcha mind

Well like a bitch dog in heat we had those bed springs a Squeakin’ all day long And didn’t you hear those walls a talkin’

("Happy birthday, asshole," I muttered to myself. "What?" Bear said. I took a massive drink and passed out.)

amy whinehouse!

[tadel, der bei mir wie lob klingt, hedonismus, bling bling billies, not overly sweet, ah! "It’s clear from the album’s packaging and content that Amy - more wanton than pretty - is a party girl blessed with a strong sense of hedonism. Her voice is not overly sweet - when she does jazz she comes across as an unconvincing bling bling Billy Holliday, and her phrasing in particular becomes too deliberate."]

rockabilly versus quertaschen

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