on this hand aretha, all pink plumage, shimmer irridescence, joyful, stuck on a preposterous 60’s set a voice of such timbre and depth, close your eyes and it rolls over you like the majesty of the ocean, bears us up on the other hand, carole, plinkety plunk at the piano, looking like she’d snap in a gale… yet such strength, squawk of the mauled her song, she lived it, she wrote it, perfectly embodied beautifully squandered half an hour trying to work out which i prefer, a blessing obviously – i love them both the most!
