Farewell deranged genius

Death provokes odd, random memories. We used to listen to this album Paris a lot when I was heavily into MDF and paint effects and was working alongside a gang of middle-class dropout shopfitters. We were doing up a clothes store in Norwich (to which Jack the Mogul now supplies Tinchy Stryder Star in the Hood wear). McLaren was surely the mogul’s mogul – note how terrible his singing is, yet how totally convinced, and convincing, he is that the matter is otherwise; it makes it work. But then who whom has tempted Catherine Deneuve out of her apartment and onto their (debut) album would not be full of confidence?

It’s a great song, I think, very lovely.

[*There are one or two PG rated scenes, for younger blogistes, and for daftburger]

This entry was posted in The Final Days of Marvin Gaye and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Farewell deranged genius

  1. makemeadiva says:

    It’s tricky when someone dies.

    I had to turn down the golf to listen to that; it made Mickelson miss his putt.

  2. Stephen Foster says:

    What is Mickelson?

  3. makemeadiva says:

    It sounds like a beer, but it is a golfer.

    I am developing some seriously bad habits.

  4. Daftburger says:

    Ooooooh did he fail to get in the hole? (fnar, fnar) 😀

Comments are closed.