Joe Cocker, holy fuck can you sing like Ray Charles. And your epilepsy turned dancing is the sugar in our hully gully tea. You scream, you make us cry, you scream again, you make our hips shake, and when you cry, we scream.
You might be a Last Waltz person. Hell, you might even be a Festival Express person. Us, we’re all of those things, but mostly we’re Mad Dogs and Englishmen people. In 1970, Cocker brought along an enormous band of idiots and Leon Russells and did a bunch of covers way better than you. Find me something better than this and I’ll give you my allowance for a goddamn month. Delta Lady, you are mine. All fucking mine.