My dad was a piano player. He would play at the Rotary Club, and he would play off the page, you know? He was a written music player, and I was an improv, spacey—I mean, I would put the Sunday circulars on the music stand on the piano, and I would sing what I was reading on the Sunday circulars. [Sings] Tide, two for a dollar twenty-nine! Cause I didn't know how to read music, so I would read Sunday circulars and sing them just to have something to sing, you know. So he didn't quite understand the music thing as I was practicing it, because he went, "well, if I put up a sheet of music in front of you, you couldn't read it. What is this all about?" And I still don't know if he quite gets how I've made it, if I can't read music.
