The music industry survives by destroying people. It chews them till all the flavour is gone, then spits them out on the pavement. It exploits its workers shamelessly with false promises of glory and success. For every story of dodgy contracts and mercenary management, still perhaps the saddest story was that of Elva Miller. She only ever wanted to sing for her church groups and charity circles, but Capitol Records heard her Florence Foster Jenkins-like vibrato and realised they could make a mint while breaking her heart. They plied her with promises and then gave her woefully inappropriate songs to cover, and conducted her to sing off the beat.
Look everyone she's 60 years old, look how foolish she is. She doesn't get it, teen record buyers, but we do.
Despite everything sometimes she managed to give A Groovy Kind of Love more charm than anyone else who ever sang it. Sure the arrangement is hokey as hell, but love's not about looking cool, it's about leaving yourself open and vulnerable. Elva Miller did that on her own and I genuinely hope she took pride in that.