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The male voice in song is my first true love – predating cigarettes, sourdough and pedicures, and even the actual male embodied presence. The sound of Tony Orlando, Neil Diamond and Don McLean streamed into my tiny little ears parked on the floor in front of the record player, and neurons lit up with ecstasy and perhaps the distant tingle of adulthood. And while as I got older my taste got a little bit cooler than “Knock Three Times”, a man with a microphone still had a way of catching my attention.
There’s five love languages according to Dr Gary Chapman: words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time and physical touch. I’ll go out on a limb and submit a sixth – the musical mixtape. Or in its modern iteration – the Spotify playlist. Nothing says “I’m so hot for you I can’t remember my own name” like a playlist made just for you. It’s a flashing neon arrow pointing to the heart – or a bit below, maybe. And to give
