sprechgesang

The man couldn't sing. He wanted to, desperately. It was the only way to get her attention - the girl with the long, red hair in the revealing red dress. Angel, they called her. Every night, she was announced. Sliding to the grand piano, she perched on the bench and hooked her audience with those large green eyes.

So he became enraptured by her melody, and he needed to get her attention.

He can't sing, but he does have a cool, suave attitude. A simple, observing, one-eyebrow-lift-and-a-smirk kind of guy. So instead of singing, he plays to his strengths, and develops a different kind of act. He'll practice sprechgesang. He'll perform a song in his own cool style, in between talking and singing - a spoken word mash-up.