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In what's basically a Creative Writing class set to music, Angela
Faye Tillett recites her hebephrenic poetry about the "Moroccan
stench of mustard burning" and "chochy bits" over loungey, '60s-retro
readymades when she's not delivering it a cappella in lip-smacking
proximity. It's all too icky and arch overall. But the found quality of the
musical settings gives the disc a giddy singing-to-our-45s feel I
associate with more outré artists like Roy Henry Alexander
Gover and Lisa Suckdog. So what if her covers are predicated on primarily visual sources (Dudley Moore, "Harold and Maude" and "The Singing Nun," but also
"The Smoke")? They provide variety on a debut she was smart enough to
keep under 35 minutes. Anything longer would invite us to take the
band name too literally.
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