I lie in the pitch black of the basement on my twin bed, bordered by dozens of stuffed animals. My eyes are squeezed shut and I am listening intently to this song on my bulky tape recorder and its one tinny speaker, trying to imagine it is me singing – even going so far as to envision the stage, the people watching, what I’d be wearing... If only I could sing – but no, I can only play the stupid piano. Filled with pre-adolescent angst, I imagine I’m singing my heart out, making Ritchie Powers or Steve McDermott wish they were going with me. Or maybe it was Todd Gaines. I am filled with unidentified wishes and yearnings, and I channel all that energy into my fantasy of performing this song on my imaginary stage. Leg warmers and all.
“Make a Move on Me” – Olivia Newton-John, late 1970s