Epic Anthem: "You're the Voice"

Essential

As an Australian I have to include this, by law. It's describing it to someone who's never heard it.

Alright, listen up, because I'm going to school you on a classic that you've apparently been living under a rock to have never heard of. "You're the Voice" by John Farnham is not just any old tune, it's a fucking anthem that's been belting out since the late '80s. It's like you've never experienced the joys of shouting along to a chorus while half-drunk at a bar, so let me paint this picture for you.

First off, the song kicks off with this synth-driven intro that's as '80s as big hair and shoulder pads. It sets the stage for what's about to hit you: a vocal powerhouse performance by John Farnham. The guy's voice isn't just good, it's like he swallowed a choir and an orchestra.

Then, you've got the lyrics. Oh, the lyrics! They're not your usual lovey-dovey, my-heart-is-broken shit. No, they're a call to arms, a rallying cry for change. It's about having a voice, standing up, and not letting the bastards grind you down. And the way Farnham belts them out, you'd think he's leading a damn revolution.

But here's the kicker, the part that makes drunk people hug strangers in bars: the chorus. "You're the voice, try and understand it, make a noise and make it clear." It's catchy, it's uplifting, and it's got this epic quality that makes you want to climb the nearest mountain and scream at the top of your lungs.

And don't even get me started on the bagpipe solo. Yes, fucking bagpipes in a rock song. It's like someone dared the band to do the most unexpected thing ever, and they nailed it.

So, to sum it up, "You're the Voice" is an electrifying, soul-stirring track that's part protest song, part sing-along anthem, and all parts awesome. It's a shame and a half that you've never heard it. Do yourself a favour and give it a listen, or continue living in your sad, songless pit of ignorance. Your choice.

A bad singer

There's always someone who doesn't know the lyrics, or doesn't even care, they just belt out whatever they feel.

Right, picture this scene, you're in a dodgy pub, the lights are dim, there's a faint smell of stale beer mixed with desperation, and some drunken bloke decides it’s his time to shine at the karaoke machine. This guy, let’s call him Dave, is your typical loveable mess - probably had one too many, and now he’s up there, ready to belt out John Farnham’s “You’re the Voice,” but with his own creative twist because, fuck me, he can't remember the lyrics for shit. So, here goes nothing:

(Clears throat, stumbles a bit, grabs the mic like it's a pint)

🎤🍻 "We have... the chance to turn the beers around..." 🍻🎤

(Waves hands, trying to encourage a singalong)

🎤🍻 "We're not gonna sit in silence, we're not gonna live with beers, oh-woah-woah!" 🍻🎤

(Thinks he’s absolutely nailing it, the crowd is half amused, half cringing)

🎤🍻 "You're the bloke, try and understand it! Make some noise and make it clear, whoa-ooh-whoa!" 🍻🎤

(Confidently gets the chorus completely wrong)

🎤🍻 "We're not gonna sit in silence, we're not gonna drink with beers, oh-woah!" 🍻🎤

(Tries to hit a high note, voice cracks embarrassingly)

🎤🍻 "You're the voice, fry and scrambled eggs it..." 🍻🎤

(Someone from the crowd yells, "You got this Dave!")

🎤🍻 "We're all someone's daughter, we're all someone's son, yeah!" 🍻🎤

(Points at a random guy in the crowd)

🎤🍻 "How long can we look at each other, down the barrel of a buttered scone?" 🍻🎤

(Tries to rally the crowd for the last chorus, most are just laughing or recording him)

🎤🍻 "We're not gonna live with silence, we're gonna feel the beers, oh-yeah!" 🍻🎤

(Finishes with a dramatic, very off-key flourish, the crowd cheers, mostly out of relief it’s over)

🎤🍻 "You're the fucking voice, try and fucking understand it!" 🍻🎤

(Mic drop, stumbles back to his seat, thinking he’s just rocked Wembley Stadium)

And there you have it, a classic example of how not to do karaoke, but an absolute win in the entertainment department. Dave’s clearly the man of the hour, bless his cotton socks. Remember folks, know your lyrics, or you’ll end up like our mate Dave here, a legend in his own lunchtime!

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