Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Thursday, July 31, 2003

The Devil Sent You To Lorado!

As mentioned on the gorgeous Zbornak’s site, the New Favourite Things is Baccara.

Two gin-raddled Spanish waitresses, all gold slingbacks and leopard skin, belt their hearts out about whomever the love of their life is this week. I can advise with my dubious longstanding fixation for these bizarre waitresses of pop you to track down ‘Ay Ay Sailor’ - a fruity little number that follows the usual Baccara template: one member comes back from a voyage of sexual discovery and recounts the blissful antics to the other one, who no doubt has her hand over her face in polite shock. This one, one of them had found a sailor man. After thinking she loved a tailor man. You can see that their grip on the English language is more of a stranglehold, can’t you? It’s not their first language. I doubt it’s their second. It’s probably their fourteenth, somewhere down *there* past Baatchi and Klingon.

Other ones to watch out for are:
The Devil Sent You To Lorado: the girls are somehow in the wild west, leaning up the saloon bar. In comes a man that gets them wetter than an otter’s pocket, asks for a whiskey and offers them tequila. They theorise that this man is so gorgeous that the devil must have sent him to stuff his hands in their fur-lined love-knickers, and they gasp in realisation and awe at how lovely this man is.

Yes Sir, I Can Boogie: one of their more famous hits. The identity of this male authority figure is who is questioning their ability to dance is never revealed, but they do start getting a bit shirty in the second verse when he apparently asks them again, responding with ‘Yes sir, as I’ve already mentioned in the first verse. And in the chorus. But I will give you one more chance.”

Parlez-Vous Francais: from the opening bars that sound like the Virgin Trains announcement noise, to bandmember’s Mayte revelation that the man she was after was ‘as tall as a tree!’, Parlez-Vous Francais is bliss. It even has the best bit of talky nonsense between the two girls at the beginning, where one is slowly cajoled into spilling the beans on who she shagged on a recent holiday, with questioned interjections from the other girl (“In the sun!” / “In the sun?” / “Having fun!” / “Having fun?”). It proves that while she and this man had no language in common, it’s the International Language of Lurve that binds them together. Which really is like us and Baccara. Aww.

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