Quaint and slightly annoying, Sheila has stuck in my head, like the sound of the overland trains if you live near the northern line in London (and also because Sheila's what we call birds in Australia). The samples are a bit overpowering. . . particularly the old pommy git going on about his walks around London
and the vast surburban churches.
Samples are there to refer to another time and place but the nth degree is always challenging. More to the point, one must dig Jamie's lyrical sense:
Her lingo went from the cockney to the gringo
any time she sing a song, the other girls sing along
and tell all the fellas that that lady is single
a fickle way to tickle on my young mans ting
He relishes that London existence that I once did, but the highs come with the lows and Sheila meets her fate
i say giggidibigidiup just another day
another sad story, thats trajegdy,
paramedic anounced death at 10.30
rip it up kick it to spit up the views. . .
i guess the carpet weren't rolled
