To Roast A Singing Swan
Suffering the buggy last song syndrome for a couple of hours is heaven compared to me afflicted of such for thirteen years. And I did not know the lyrics much more the title. I could hum the tune but it always comes up totally different from the one in my head. I dare you to beat that.
Remember former Secret Service agent Frank Farmer signing up as pop star Rachel Marron’s bodyguard? Well, Rachel looked and belted out songs as Whitney Houston would but, no, the song was not Whitney’s. However, for the release in the Philippines, they plagued our tv sets with rapid shots from the flick while this strangely dark piece played on the background. To put it simply, a huge ensemble was singing it and sounded like one of those songs Gregorian Chant released.
I became sick that day. The song kept playing that day in my head and it was debilitating. I asked people around, ran to the music store to see if the track was included in the OST. No. Nothing. A few years later, MTV put up one of those shows where they hand out glued pieces of scrap metal to clueless Milli Vanillis. And they opened that damn show with a huge choir singing THAT DAMN SONG. I was crying from grief. I still did not know the title.
But of course, luck comes to those who fart seven times a day. Browsing on iFilm, I streamed a video for Carlton beer’s latest tv plug. Called “The Big Ad” where 300 guys plus several other computer-generated drunkards singing my damn song! I was having visions, hallucinations, spontaneous orgasms and blissful paroxysms shooting through me. Yep. I knew that an ad this huge could spawn lengths of threads in forums and I also knew that the song, being a huge part of the ad, somebody is bound to ask for the title and some beer guzzling male human who knows his music will eventually answer.
Look for “O Fortuna” from Carmina Burana.
