On a row of five monitors five people sing their favourite track, badly, and all at the same time. Christ, it’s awful – like that irritating guy who always manages to sit in front of you on the bus, droning along to the mosquito-hum of his Walkman. Christ, it’s awful – Bryan Adams, Gloria Gaynor, Bob Marley and Crystal Gayle are all murdered by their anonymous amateur interpreters. My Favourite Track (all works 1994) is an incoherent babble of inarticulacy, a celebration of ineptitude. Like Dancing in Peckham, it is touching because it gives a small insight into our commonplace, endearing fantasies: that we possess within us an ability to dance and sing, despite the most telling evidence that we can do neither. (My Bob Dylan impressions are banned, and a fancy that I am a great disco dancer is belied by friends pretending not to know me on the dance floor).
Quote from: http://www.frieze.com/issue/review/gillian_wearing/ accessed 28/12.2011