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Apr 05, 2006 11:09

But the man sings like an angel. We often forget when listening to such classics as 'I'm Alright' 'Footloose' and of course 'Highway to the Danger Zone' (Though these songs are timless 80's classics, they don't capture the seraphatic vocal essence that is...Kenny Loggins). To fall off the cliff of mediocre singers into the depths of the cool Kenny Loggins ocean you need only to listen to the live version of 'Celebrate Me Home'. He is a horn. A trumpet. A fucking god. He squeals like Sinbad being violated in an elementary school girls bathroom. He's Sinatra without the attitude and Aretha without the tits. He's brian McKnight without the sex drive and Ella without the cocaine. If Budha stimulates himself...ever...it's because Kenny Loggins is trembling his falcetto deep in the belly of Christ. When Confucious takes tea with Tao Kenny is dancing his sound across the walls and tripple-harmonizing the whistle of the teapot.

"Na-na-na-na-now, Clebra-eee-aaaa-eee-aaa---da-da-da----dooom---dayooo----CEL-A-Braaaaate-Me----Haaaaaaoooooooooooooooooo--uuhhh---oooo---uuhhhh---oooooooooaaaoooome!!!!!"

Only one man can scribe those scribbles. Only one man can call forth several dolphins by whispering an 'a' minor for a period of 187 consecutive seconds.

Only one man...no...one angel...demon...avatar...beast...god.

Kiss me with thine holy lips, for my mouth hast not felt god in ages. Make thy knees tremble underneath my thighs and my thighs tremble above my knees. Tell me your secret, and i'll fuck you underneath.
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