He writes the songs you love to hate, hate to know, and make you run for a barf bag. He’s the king of schmaltz and over-orchestrated key changes. His Velveeta factor is off the charts. He’s a rather — ummm — shall we say “ironic” choice for a sex god. But uncool as it may be, he makes me smile big. He brings me back to the happy, simple place of life as a 12-year-old girl. He was my first — and as of this moment my most recent — concert.
Ladies and gentlemen: Mr. Barry Manilow!
C’mon, be honest. You have a guilty musical pleasure too. A weak spot for some dork whose songs and voice give people hives, but…