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Title: I feather my hair to it!
Review: After seven agonizing years in the blackhole know as the Philly Female Folk Scene, it is that first breath of blue night air after being buried alive and dug back up, that we find Ms. Flint and her black leather tambourines of acoustic mirth. Only Didi Garcon of Westchester, NY (creator of what has been described as "that Newburgh sound", a nasally twang overlaying a recklessly tuned acoustic Gibson played upside down) compares to the rubber-tipped sal-setto vocals and the limberd muttony tremblo of Ms Flint, as she bares her fangs at Freudian moppets (Cheerleader). And who could have dreamed of the symbolic ode to Billy Squires (New Shoes), composed using an Austrian iambic haiku pattern ? Genius! Buy this album before (as rumored) the American Wax Paper Association uses one of these ditys in their next campaign and you can say you had it way back when...
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