Singing along to the "boiled owl"

I have been enjoying James Gavin's "Deep in a Dream: The Long Night of Chet Baker," an autobiography of the troubled, trumpet-playing 1950s icon.
Besides William Claxton's memorable photos, Baker might be best known today for his singing.
Off-key but with feeling, Baker's crooning style is not for everyone.
I fall into the "love him" camp along the love-him-or-hate divide.
I have been singing along to Baker songs for days.
Mimi Clar, writing in a Metronome review in the 1950s, clearly falls into the "hate him" camp:
"Criticizing Baker's 'singing' is as unfair a game as commenting on a 4-month-old baby's lack of coordination because he can't walk. How can one speak critically of an anemic voice which sounds like a boiled owl trying for out-of-reach high notes?"
Ouch.