that's the sound of my giddiness
tonight is our second concert, Tel Aviv Soloists lead by Tabea Zimmermann from the principal viola chair- or, in the case of these two incredible elegies, Britten's Lachrymae and Odeon Partos' Yizkor (Remembrance), as a soloist up front, conducting with her scroll dipping up and down even as she plays the most flawless, flowing lines. Since so many violists wanted to be in this concert, Barak, the conductor, rotated us, so I don't play in those two. I appreciate that- it's much more fun to get to play in a section with her, even play solos just the two of us, in the case of Veress' (mid-20th century Hungarian) 4 Transylvanian Dances. The section is divided most of the time, and there's only 4 of us so a good amount of time, it's just me and her on the 1st part. Terrifying at first, and now just a total blast. That piece was a bit shaky last night, in Haifa, but we've all decided it's going to be incredible tonight.
so many other things to be giddy about. The guilty, evil, intense pleasure I get out of Johnny Damon being a Yankee. Amazing going-away party for my "caparra" and soul-sister Melissa, for which all the bright lights of Jerusalem showed up and turned on. Such a good party, I completely forgot it was for such a sad reason! Hannuka tonight, I'm going to light red and green candles in the menora my folks gave me a couple years back. Then I'll pack said menora into my bag, cause tomorrow night, after our last concert, in Jerusalem, I'm flying to Oaxaca!!!!
But most immediately, and most wonderfully, I just got this year's Hannukah present from my Dad in the mail: Urtext editions of Beethoven's quartets Opp 127, and the 59's, 74 and 95. Along with them, these words from him:
DESTINATION OP. 127
The sun is down when I get back. Sometimes
It sits tomatolike athwart my rear-
View mirror on the Bruckner, or it climbs
The Empire State, Bridgewards throwing a flare.
It rises when I leave- it's red behind
Me when I take the Turnpike south, but weak,
Trembling and listless, hungover and blind:
"Don't kid yourself," it says, "the future's bleak."
It leaves no light to check tomatoes by,
Or green beans, but attacks me when I drive
The Garden State, morningwise against my eye,
And night surrounds the house when I arrive.
No matter- I light the stove, put upon the set
The evening's pleasure, Nature's Light, the 12th Quartet.
Charles Hollander
October 1974, Old Greenwich, Ct.
and...
Op. 59, #1, the lyrics:
Pack my suitcase tight,
I'll be going home tomorrow night,
I won't have to wait,
Cause the train I take is never late.
see you on the other side. Happy everything, and let's all enjoy 2006 when it gets here.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
in the studio
We just finished our second day of recording. Finished Death and the Maiden, which simply blows my mind. Three weeks ago I hadn't done more than sightread through the first and second movements at music camp- years ago. Today, on some umpteenth run of one of the variations in the second movment I almost had a breakdown of the frustration from not really knowing the piece yet, while having to devote so much extreme concentration to it. concentration. It's been numbing and exhausting, but after these two days I feel like I've just seen, learned another aspect of string quartet playing. And I love it. Almost as much, or maybe as much, but in a different way, as performing. I'm lucky, though, that we all get along so well, because any tension- interpersonal, or arising out of not being able to express my surprises and frustrations at this process- would have been the straw that broke me. Instead, we kept cracking each other up, and I'm telling you, I have no idea how I would have survived it without that laughter.
I guess there wasn't anything really that surprising to it. I've recorded before, and for days at a time like this, too. Never in a quartet, though, and never a piece I've had this practically lifetime attachment to. If I ever show signs of thinking myself worthy of playing Death and the Maiden, promptly bite me, pinch me, smack me. Wake me up. Despite the frustration with myself, I could have done with days more of that in-detail focus on that piece and still not get bored, and still find things to play differently.
In order to have use of this great space to record for free, the conservatory where the hall is asked us to do a short kids' concert the other day. Small price, huh? We prepared the first and last movements, and Hilla did all the talking. Or, really, the kids did all the talking. We would play, literally, two bars at a time, then Hilla would ask them for some responses to the music. She couldn't get to half of the kids who had their hands up each time, and we ended up scratching the last movement, and doing an impromptu cut of the first, they all had so much to say. I understood bits and pieces, but didn't need specifics to get that the kids each had completely different reactions. It was so much fun! made me want to treat every concert as a kids' concert. Not in this outreach-"condescend to the audience" kind of way that's so big now. In the way that we weren't going into it hoping to have more fans at the end of it, to come to our next show, or whatever. Hilla forgot to even tell them our names, and it barely registered when she remembered at the very end. They asked us questions like "why do you move like that while you play?" and "how come you don't take a time-out in the middle? we do that in basketball." they were so psyched to see how into it we were, and how music this great is so *worth" being into, gives so much back. There's something about Schubert; his music can be angry, furious even, but even then everyone still wants to give him a hug, to empathize with him. (reminds me of a little story: I was upset with an ex of mine, but didn't want to tell him right then cause we were with his friends, so he took me to the bathrooms of the club we were at, grabbed my shoulders, and said, "You can talk to me! I have empathy!" like it was a new addition to a detergent. Now with empathy!) Anyway. yeah. I'm tired. I had other smartypants things to say about Schubert, but.. . All that time in the studio, and then when I came home my roommate and his friend were about to watch "The Longest Yard" so I joined them, which killed an innumerable amount of braincells. Adam Sandler, Burt Reynolds, Tracy Morgan in a skirt doing cheers, and lots of guys hitting their heads against each other. I never thought I'd ever sit through that much American football, much less in Israel.
On top of the days in the studio this week, we're also playing with the Tel Aviv Soloists Ensemble, the chamber orchestra we play with every time they have projects, about once a month or two. This is by far the best. Tabea Zimmermann, the violist, has come from Berlin to lead us from the principal viola chair! I'm going to write more about this at the end of the week, because I'm about to be late for our 3rd rehearsal and I can imagine if the rehearsals have been this amazing, the concerts will be huge fun. But if you haven't heard of her, or don't own, like everything she's ever recorded, look her up now and buy everything!
I guess there wasn't anything really that surprising to it. I've recorded before, and for days at a time like this, too. Never in a quartet, though, and never a piece I've had this practically lifetime attachment to. If I ever show signs of thinking myself worthy of playing Death and the Maiden, promptly bite me, pinch me, smack me. Wake me up. Despite the frustration with myself, I could have done with days more of that in-detail focus on that piece and still not get bored, and still find things to play differently.
In order to have use of this great space to record for free, the conservatory where the hall is asked us to do a short kids' concert the other day. Small price, huh? We prepared the first and last movements, and Hilla did all the talking. Or, really, the kids did all the talking. We would play, literally, two bars at a time, then Hilla would ask them for some responses to the music. She couldn't get to half of the kids who had their hands up each time, and we ended up scratching the last movement, and doing an impromptu cut of the first, they all had so much to say. I understood bits and pieces, but didn't need specifics to get that the kids each had completely different reactions. It was so much fun! made me want to treat every concert as a kids' concert. Not in this outreach-"condescend to the audience" kind of way that's so big now. In the way that we weren't going into it hoping to have more fans at the end of it, to come to our next show, or whatever. Hilla forgot to even tell them our names, and it barely registered when she remembered at the very end. They asked us questions like "why do you move like that while you play?" and "how come you don't take a time-out in the middle? we do that in basketball." they were so psyched to see how into it we were, and how music this great is so *worth" being into, gives so much back. There's something about Schubert; his music can be angry, furious even, but even then everyone still wants to give him a hug, to empathize with him. (reminds me of a little story: I was upset with an ex of mine, but didn't want to tell him right then cause we were with his friends, so he took me to the bathrooms of the club we were at, grabbed my shoulders, and said, "You can talk to me! I have empathy!" like it was a new addition to a detergent. Now with empathy!) Anyway. yeah. I'm tired. I had other smartypants things to say about Schubert, but.. . All that time in the studio, and then when I came home my roommate and his friend were about to watch "The Longest Yard" so I joined them, which killed an innumerable amount of braincells. Adam Sandler, Burt Reynolds, Tracy Morgan in a skirt doing cheers, and lots of guys hitting their heads against each other. I never thought I'd ever sit through that much American football, much less in Israel.
On top of the days in the studio this week, we're also playing with the Tel Aviv Soloists Ensemble, the chamber orchestra we play with every time they have projects, about once a month or two. This is by far the best. Tabea Zimmermann, the violist, has come from Berlin to lead us from the principal viola chair! I'm going to write more about this at the end of the week, because I'm about to be late for our 3rd rehearsal and I can imagine if the rehearsals have been this amazing, the concerts will be huge fun. But if you haven't heard of her, or don't own, like everything she's ever recorded, look her up now and buy everything!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
peaces
Wow,
living here I've become a connoisseur of glimpses. There are so many stories that you couldn't hear anywhere else. They become disembodied in my head from whoever it was who told me them. The latest to become a free-floating mental picture is this (I have absolutely no clue who told me this!): Three Russian men, obviously drunk, were accosting a window on Allenby St, one of Tel Aviv's more commercial thoroughfares. Behind the glass was one of those dancing Santas we're so used to seeing in the states around Christmas- looks like he's doing an invisible hula-hoop to inaudible music. Apparently they were trying to get it to stop. To the point where they looked ready to break into the shop.
I love that. I want to hang out with them.
Sigh. I don't even have time for a glimpse of Christmas. I have Christmas envy. I always have, always asked my parents for a tree. In high school, freshman year, a friend of mine, Eli, who'd just come back from some years living with her family in Japan, invited me to their annual tree-decorating celebration. This year it was different because of all the amazing ornaments (not necessarily xmas-themed) they'd brought back from Japan. In their beautiful Park Slope townhouse, all of us framed by the big old windows that faced President Street, we took turns climbing high up to find the perfect place for this origami or that gilded angel. I'm connecting these two fixations of mine right now: Christmas and things Japanese. I can't go to Bethelehem to witness what sounds like the most beautiful holiday in the world; Christian Palestinians and tourists parading slowly down the sunset-lit slope with candles and songs. It's warm here. It would be a Christmas I couldn't imagine. I've always thought of it as a pagan holiday, or at least national like Thanksgiving. And the story of Eli's tree came to mind because I just caught the end of "The Last Samurai" and was reminded of the glimpse of Japan I got last year on the Verbier tour, when our last stop was Tokyo. There's a wonderful couple who rent an apartment in my parents' house: Mayuko and Takaji. Mayuko is this beautiful embodiment of fascination with Japanese tradition, even so far from her home. I mean, she's traveled as widely as anyone, and as independently, but now that she's settled down, you can see she's found this amazing dedication to where she comes from. She plays Koto, and we've given each other lessons on our respective instruments and talked a lot about some form of collaboration. She also studies the traditional Tea Ceremony, even devoted a room in the house (which was my first bedroom in the house!) for the practice of it. Last year, for my birthday, she gave me two sets of the most beautiful origami paper I've ever seen. I spent every night at Kneisel (the music festival I was at last summer) practicing difficult folds- clumsily- instead of reading myself to sleep.
Takaji's a wood-sculptor, and likes to tell me of all his adventures from his time as a student at Pratt in Brooklyn. I think he thinks that because he and Mayuko are so beautifully.. Japanese.. to such ignorant and fetishizing eyes as mine, he wants to make sure I know that he's lived a vagrant's life among the motley crew. He tells me about his best friend from Pratt, a graffiti artist, and all the adventures he went on when he first came to NYC.
When I told them I was moving to Israel. Mayuko and Takaji asked me to send them Halva! When I asked them how they knew about this Middle Eastern sweet, they just shrugged and said, "It's our favorite!"
Listening to Reflection Eternal. I know one of these days I'll learn to listen to the music I love from home without identifying to it in this very patriotic way, but more as just, like, this is good music. I could be from anywhere and love this. But for now... reminds me of home. All those friends from high school who lived in "Dark" Slope, how when I walked to the 7th Avenue Q train from their houses I'd walk by Inkiru Books, which I'd heard was saved and bought by Mos Def and Talib Kweli (from Reflection) and feel this shiver of recognition and love. Oh my goodness, I totally forgot to write about what I did last Thursday!! I saw De La Soul- alone! It was expensive and I couldn't find anyone into it enough to go with me. But I mean, De La, I've been into them since, like, 8th grade. There was no WAY I could miss that show. They opened!!- for Lee "Scratch" Perry. Completely fell in love with De La all over again. I told my (male) friend Eli the next day when I saw him in Jerusalem about the show. He loves them, too, and said the sweetest things about them- "They're family men, you can tell!" so true. Even though they brought tons of cute, mini-skirt-clad girls on the stage (sadly I was not called up. but you know, I'm a pants girl) they barely looked at them as they kept up the amazing connection they had to the HUGE audience. I got love from my favorite of the group, Trugoy, aka Dave, as I sang along, and he blew me a kiss and even leaned over from the stage to sing "with" me. I lasted through about half the Scratch Perry set, enough to get love from his guitarist, too- that's the great thing about being alone, you can be totally shameless about wanting to be right next to the stage and the performers and just yell right out to them- till I figured I'd gotten a glimpse enough, gotten my money's worth.
"I'm a peace-loving decoy ready for retaliation." (my favorite line from the rap by Booty Brown, from the Pharcyde, in the Gorillaz song Dirty Harry)
You can take the girl from the Street but you can't take the Street from the girl.
living here I've become a connoisseur of glimpses. There are so many stories that you couldn't hear anywhere else. They become disembodied in my head from whoever it was who told me them. The latest to become a free-floating mental picture is this (I have absolutely no clue who told me this!): Three Russian men, obviously drunk, were accosting a window on Allenby St, one of Tel Aviv's more commercial thoroughfares. Behind the glass was one of those dancing Santas we're so used to seeing in the states around Christmas- looks like he's doing an invisible hula-hoop to inaudible music. Apparently they were trying to get it to stop. To the point where they looked ready to break into the shop.
I love that. I want to hang out with them.
Sigh. I don't even have time for a glimpse of Christmas. I have Christmas envy. I always have, always asked my parents for a tree. In high school, freshman year, a friend of mine, Eli, who'd just come back from some years living with her family in Japan, invited me to their annual tree-decorating celebration. This year it was different because of all the amazing ornaments (not necessarily xmas-themed) they'd brought back from Japan. In their beautiful Park Slope townhouse, all of us framed by the big old windows that faced President Street, we took turns climbing high up to find the perfect place for this origami or that gilded angel. I'm connecting these two fixations of mine right now: Christmas and things Japanese. I can't go to Bethelehem to witness what sounds like the most beautiful holiday in the world; Christian Palestinians and tourists parading slowly down the sunset-lit slope with candles and songs. It's warm here. It would be a Christmas I couldn't imagine. I've always thought of it as a pagan holiday, or at least national like Thanksgiving. And the story of Eli's tree came to mind because I just caught the end of "The Last Samurai" and was reminded of the glimpse of Japan I got last year on the Verbier tour, when our last stop was Tokyo. There's a wonderful couple who rent an apartment in my parents' house: Mayuko and Takaji. Mayuko is this beautiful embodiment of fascination with Japanese tradition, even so far from her home. I mean, she's traveled as widely as anyone, and as independently, but now that she's settled down, you can see she's found this amazing dedication to where she comes from. She plays Koto, and we've given each other lessons on our respective instruments and talked a lot about some form of collaboration. She also studies the traditional Tea Ceremony, even devoted a room in the house (which was my first bedroom in the house!) for the practice of it. Last year, for my birthday, she gave me two sets of the most beautiful origami paper I've ever seen. I spent every night at Kneisel (the music festival I was at last summer) practicing difficult folds- clumsily- instead of reading myself to sleep.
Takaji's a wood-sculptor, and likes to tell me of all his adventures from his time as a student at Pratt in Brooklyn. I think he thinks that because he and Mayuko are so beautifully.. Japanese.. to such ignorant and fetishizing eyes as mine, he wants to make sure I know that he's lived a vagrant's life among the motley crew. He tells me about his best friend from Pratt, a graffiti artist, and all the adventures he went on when he first came to NYC.
When I told them I was moving to Israel. Mayuko and Takaji asked me to send them Halva! When I asked them how they knew about this Middle Eastern sweet, they just shrugged and said, "It's our favorite!"
Listening to Reflection Eternal. I know one of these days I'll learn to listen to the music I love from home without identifying to it in this very patriotic way, but more as just, like, this is good music. I could be from anywhere and love this. But for now... reminds me of home. All those friends from high school who lived in "Dark" Slope, how when I walked to the 7th Avenue Q train from their houses I'd walk by Inkiru Books, which I'd heard was saved and bought by Mos Def and Talib Kweli (from Reflection) and feel this shiver of recognition and love. Oh my goodness, I totally forgot to write about what I did last Thursday!! I saw De La Soul- alone! It was expensive and I couldn't find anyone into it enough to go with me. But I mean, De La, I've been into them since, like, 8th grade. There was no WAY I could miss that show. They opened!!- for Lee "Scratch" Perry. Completely fell in love with De La all over again. I told my (male) friend Eli the next day when I saw him in Jerusalem about the show. He loves them, too, and said the sweetest things about them- "They're family men, you can tell!" so true. Even though they brought tons of cute, mini-skirt-clad girls on the stage (sadly I was not called up. but you know, I'm a pants girl) they barely looked at them as they kept up the amazing connection they had to the HUGE audience. I got love from my favorite of the group, Trugoy, aka Dave, as I sang along, and he blew me a kiss and even leaned over from the stage to sing "with" me. I lasted through about half the Scratch Perry set, enough to get love from his guitarist, too- that's the great thing about being alone, you can be totally shameless about wanting to be right next to the stage and the performers and just yell right out to them- till I figured I'd gotten a glimpse enough, gotten my money's worth.
"I'm a peace-loving decoy ready for retaliation." (my favorite line from the rap by Booty Brown, from the Pharcyde, in the Gorillaz song Dirty Harry)
You can take the girl from the Street but you can't take the Street from the girl.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Barbara Kingsolver and Cameron Crowe
... and Johnny Cash, and Martin Scorcese, and Alfred Kazin, and Ralph Ellison, and Albert Murray, and Elliott Smith, and the White Stripes, and my friend Jared Horowitz's songs, and the dear departed Dusky Silo...
whenever I'm away from home for a long time I get so attached to sincerely American art. My rehearsal ended early today so I went to an 11:30 AM showing of Elizabethtown. By technical standards a pretty bad movie, but everyone in it is so likeable, and the music's so good (headline from The Onion: "Cameron Crowe to release only soundtracks from now on") and it has the BEST roadtrip idea ever in it, and it's such a satisfying girl flick. sigh. Whenever I see Kirsten Dunst in a movie I don't want to be here so much as have her wardrobe. Why is she always the best costumed actress?? Wanted to run immediately and get her magenta sandals. Or maybe it was just the super-girly feeling the movie gave me. Cameron Crowe movies always make me feel afterwards like I could be a heroine in a Cameron Crowe movie. As i rode my bike home, viola on my back, huge grocery-store crate teeter-tottering on the back, with my Kirsten-inspired purchase in a plastic bag below my music stand (they were on sale! undies with pictures of mopeds all over them and the words "My Vespa!" on the front) I imagined making mix CD's for all the guys I've ever had crushes on.
There's not enough time in the world for that!!
I should amend the sentence "our rehearsal ended early." Actually we decided this morning to postpone the premier of our Elvis Costello "Juliet Letters" project from January till April. We've been running ourselves ragged accomodating the needs of the director, a famous fringe-theater dude and professor here, and the singer, a TV comedian famous for the Israeli version of "Whose Line is it Anyway?" And we were just getting sick of the music. We've done more than 30 (!!!!) rehearsals since July, and they started demanding even more time leading up to the premier. And kept using my trip to Mexico at the end of the month against us, even though I told them about it in August. It's such good music, and we've done some really amazing things with it, but if we were going to do it in January, I'd be hating it, we all would in the quartet, and Tomer, the singer, wouldn't be ready. Anyway, it's good news cause we're getting Death and the Maiden ready to record for auditions for residencies in the states, and I've never played it before.. enough complaining.
I'm listening to Johnny Cash's version of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" and I feel like I'm in the movie White Christmas, it's so warm here, I feel like I can't even remember what snow feels like. It's a million miles away.
Oh, I titled this also with Barbara Kingsolver's name cause last year when I left school to try out living with my friend Aurelie in Bruxelles (you'll have to ask for that story another time) and everything sort of went wrong really quickly, I fell deeply in love with Kingsolver's book "Prodigal Summer" and eastern Appalachia along with it. I would read for hours at a time, listening to the CD by Dusky Silo, country-ish music by guys from NEC which I'd never even gone to hear while I was in school there. I started writing Mike, DS's lead singer and songwriter, and we had a fun, short-lived very talkative email friendship. The twang of Dusky Silo's guitars, Mike's mellow voice, and Kingsolver's green lushness... she describes beautiful women like noone I know, and there's no doubt about her sexuality, she just gets what makes some women amazing.
Earlier this year, when I first got to Israel, the equivalent obsession of the DS-BK combination was Scorcese's "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore." I even met someone in Tel Aviv by seeing on Friendster who else in Israel liked that movie! I figured anyone who was into it was worth knowing. Turned out to not be so exactly true.
whenever I'm away from home for a long time I get so attached to sincerely American art. My rehearsal ended early today so I went to an 11:30 AM showing of Elizabethtown. By technical standards a pretty bad movie, but everyone in it is so likeable, and the music's so good (headline from The Onion: "Cameron Crowe to release only soundtracks from now on") and it has the BEST roadtrip idea ever in it, and it's such a satisfying girl flick. sigh. Whenever I see Kirsten Dunst in a movie I don't want to be here so much as have her wardrobe. Why is she always the best costumed actress?? Wanted to run immediately and get her magenta sandals. Or maybe it was just the super-girly feeling the movie gave me. Cameron Crowe movies always make me feel afterwards like I could be a heroine in a Cameron Crowe movie. As i rode my bike home, viola on my back, huge grocery-store crate teeter-tottering on the back, with my Kirsten-inspired purchase in a plastic bag below my music stand (they were on sale! undies with pictures of mopeds all over them and the words "My Vespa!" on the front) I imagined making mix CD's for all the guys I've ever had crushes on.
There's not enough time in the world for that!!
I should amend the sentence "our rehearsal ended early." Actually we decided this morning to postpone the premier of our Elvis Costello "Juliet Letters" project from January till April. We've been running ourselves ragged accomodating the needs of the director, a famous fringe-theater dude and professor here, and the singer, a TV comedian famous for the Israeli version of "Whose Line is it Anyway?" And we were just getting sick of the music. We've done more than 30 (!!!!) rehearsals since July, and they started demanding even more time leading up to the premier. And kept using my trip to Mexico at the end of the month against us, even though I told them about it in August. It's such good music, and we've done some really amazing things with it, but if we were going to do it in January, I'd be hating it, we all would in the quartet, and Tomer, the singer, wouldn't be ready. Anyway, it's good news cause we're getting Death and the Maiden ready to record for auditions for residencies in the states, and I've never played it before.. enough complaining.
I'm listening to Johnny Cash's version of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" and I feel like I'm in the movie White Christmas, it's so warm here, I feel like I can't even remember what snow feels like. It's a million miles away.
Oh, I titled this also with Barbara Kingsolver's name cause last year when I left school to try out living with my friend Aurelie in Bruxelles (you'll have to ask for that story another time) and everything sort of went wrong really quickly, I fell deeply in love with Kingsolver's book "Prodigal Summer" and eastern Appalachia along with it. I would read for hours at a time, listening to the CD by Dusky Silo, country-ish music by guys from NEC which I'd never even gone to hear while I was in school there. I started writing Mike, DS's lead singer and songwriter, and we had a fun, short-lived very talkative email friendship. The twang of Dusky Silo's guitars, Mike's mellow voice, and Kingsolver's green lushness... she describes beautiful women like noone I know, and there's no doubt about her sexuality, she just gets what makes some women amazing.
Earlier this year, when I first got to Israel, the equivalent obsession of the DS-BK combination was Scorcese's "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore." I even met someone in Tel Aviv by seeing on Friendster who else in Israel liked that movie! I figured anyone who was into it was worth knowing. Turned out to not be so exactly true.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Talking Heads
So I was waxing my legs today (I always wanted to start a book with that!) listening to the Talking Heads' "More Songs About Buildings and Food," which I listened to in another uncomfortable aesthetic procedure years ago: when I got braces in the summer before third grade. Before going to the orthodontist, my mom and I stopped at a little music store and she bought me a Walkman- remember when those were the coolest ever??!- and that tape. That was before the gorgeous era of Auto-Reverse, and the only moments of pain I remember were when the music would end and I'd have to flip the tape, barely able to see my hands and the machine beyond the orthodontist- whom I called the Dragon Lady for her ferociously painted long fingernails, which of course you could feel clearly through those nothing latex gloves! Sometime in late high school or early college I found that tape, and it was in perfect condition. The good thing about our madcap house, where nothing ever leaves, but that doesn't mean you can find it when you want it necessarily. When I moved to Israel I didn't miss my car so much as the tapes that were fixtures on the stereo's rotation, and more than anything "MSABAF" so I downloaded it from Itunes. I recommend it highly for the next time you're trimming your nosehair or bleaching your stache or doing anything more or less uncomfortable or embarrassing and need some light bubbly music with lyrics about things nobody else ever sings about.
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