Well, I love them all. Even the ones I've never met. The Burns Sisters burn, burn, burn. They radiate all that is good about humanity, they sing like angels and they make me remember how superior women are to men.
In the early '70's I used to watch a beautiful teenager stroll down the streets of Ybor City on her way to my friend, Bill Mason's, Hitmakers Studio. This was the first thing that she ever recorded. It was a track that we had been working on. In fact, you can still hear the ghost of my original vocal as it bled onto other tracks. Unfortunately this is from a cassette copy of a cassette copy with no quality whatsoever. Doesn't really matter. Marie changed the lyrics and arranged all of her vocal parts and sang it to death. Great goodness.
Now, the track's not much. There is no guitar because, as I recall, there wasn't one in the studio that had all six strings the day that we put it down. I had just written the tune with my pal, Spencer Hinkle, about a girl who still captivates me with her sad eyes. The song would have probably dropped off of my own radar if Marie hadn't picked it up.
She still complains about not being paid for the session. Should I tell her that I've never been paid for one? Of course I don't sing like Marie Burns.
Do yourself a favor. Buy their new record, The Hills Of Ithaca. Her attorney can find me here!