It's all about the passion, isn't it? The wrestler who's willing to slash his forehead for the real blood to flow; the young Brando channeling all the angst and pain of a generation leaving us with decades of amazement. It's Little Richard tearing the keys off the piano with sweat beading up on his forehead like raindrops on a new Buick. He's making plans in that great big head to tear off his coat and his shirt by the middle of this solo.
Skill? Talent? Gifts? Hey, I was in the wrong line and I know it. That's alright, that's alright. I mean it when I sing it. Make "love" your mantra. If they hear you babbling it in the line at Starbucks, it may catch on.