I feel over the years I've divulged a lot of personal information about my past with music of a somewhat embarrassing nature. I believe what I'm about to admit far surpasses all previous embarrassment. You ready? Okay, here goes: This is the first version of this song that I ever heard. Oh, god. And I didn't much care for itor didn't much pay any real attention to it, anyhowas you might imagine. I don't judge myself too harshly because I was only 8 when the original track was released. I was 10 or 11 when this version rolled around and pretty much didn't realize that the album this was on was nearly, if not completely, all covers. By the time I was 12 or 13, I'd heard the original and made the connection and most likely played it all cool like I was always in the know. But really? No one else around me knew either version, so I think I won that round.
Let's just say the last thing I expected upon purchasing two Tim Curry records was a reggae version of anything, let alone a Beatles ballad.
I'd totally forgotten about the Robert Palmer version of this song, which (again) might have been the first version I heard. It's difficult to say. Regardless, it's not really different enough a version to warrant a cover only a year after the release of the original. Whatever.
I already have a digital copy of this mildly horrifying (yet strangely soothing) album, but how could I turn down the prospect of owning a 12x12 photograph that includes a cameltoe in the clouds? Again, I'm only human, you know?
Oh, the freaky things you can learn about songs on Wikipedia. For instance, the Japanese version of this song is used in weddingsdespite the fact that it's a song about loneliness, despair and (some would say, depending on which version you hear) abortionpossibly as a warning to those who choose not to marry. Yikes! conversely, I plan to reclaim my spinster power via irony by singing a rousing and prideful version of this the next time I'm at a karaoke bar.