They don’t write ’em like they used to

Last week I phoned my little sister. It’s not something that happens hugely often, as we tend to glean any useful information about each other through the more apparent medium of our parents – but I was feeling somewhat fraternal for a change.

Anyway during an otherwise uneventful conversation she mentioned to me a name I hadn’t recalled in a while, and one I felt it necessary to share with my limited readership. The name in question was that of Dean Friedman, a 70s singer/songwriter who my sister and I had been privileged enough to witness first hand when we worked on a show of his last summer. At that time we were called upon to help out on his ‘Silly Song Sing-a-long’ (a kids show) where we were involved in shepherding numerous child volunteers on and off stage.

Essentially this was highly entertaining on our part, as we watched a man in his mid-fifties singing to pre-school children about the dangers of teasing bees and playing with matches in order to keep his popularity in the entertainment industry alive (we probably enjoyed it more than the kids.)

I fully recommend you look this bloke up on the internet: you’ll notice he has a pet monkey, makes soap-box racers (you know what I’m talking about, you’ve all seen American TV shows) that bare a bizarre resemblance to old training shoes and generally, is a bit eccen- They don’t write ’em like they used to tric.

Most exciting though, and what I will leave you with for the time being, are the top quality lyrics to his songs; truly unique and constantly joy giving. These are from a catchy hit of his called McDonalds Girl: “I am in love with a McDonalds girl, she has a smile of innocence oh so tender and warm, I am in love with a McDonalds girl – she is an angel in a polyester uniform…’ Beautiful. Simply beautiful.