Well, not REALLY Whitney herself. Yes; she has/had problems, but that’s not the focus of this post. It’s the song that I and my bestie used to sing at the top of our lungs off key, making the snow dogs in Alaska howl and cover their ears, and here it is….
Saving All My Love, circa 1980-something:
Egad! This is some of her best work from a vocal perspective. But the words, in my old age and enlightened state, are a little problematic. I think it’s code for settling and lowering your standards. So I, the cynical reporter, and the linguistic specialist in my own head, B.S. Detector, PhD, took on the case. After running analysis through his supercalifragilisticexpialidocious machine, the following findings were noted:
It’s not very easy living all alone…
Translation: My vibrator ran out of batteries.
You used to tell me, we’d run away together, love gives you the right to be free
Translation: You’ll tell me anything to get me naked a whip it on me. You and me both know what you’re saying is a sack-o-shite.
You said be patient, just wait a little longer, but that’s just an old fantasy!
Translation: Okay. It’s been five years, your kids are off to college and I just saw you French kissing your wife at K-Mart.
I’ve got to get ready just a few minutes more. Gonna get that old feeling once you walk through that door…
Translation: I know you’re never gonna leave your wife, but I’m horny and I’m just going to lap up the scraps.
I’m saving all my love for you
Translation: Since there aren’t enough “good [insert adjective here] men, I’m going to settle, maybe try to accidentallyonpurpose get pregnant then text your wife about the + EPT and HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, YOU BASTARD?! I WILL NOT BE IGNORED! *off to boil your bunny*
Le sigh. As much as I love the tune, we need to start boycotting songs like this.
By the way, make sure you tune into the Bev Smith show today (Monday) at 5:30-ish (PST). I’ll be talking No Wedding No Womb, the blog, and the book.