I’ve been listening to this crazy-lady’s new album all the live-long day. Seriously.
She’s borderline as weird as Bjork, just more Manhattan-weird rather than Iceland-weird (and I guess there’s something to be said for that gap)…
but still. Crazy. Lady. This new stuff isn’t as bizarre as Soviet Kitsch or Songs (“Chemo Limo,” anyone?)– but this new record makes Begin To Hope look like an exercise in normalcy.
Don’t sweat it Regina, I still love ya. In the kind of way that you love your crazy Grandmother who thinks you’re still seventeen and hugs you a little too long. God bless your bat-shit-crazy little heart.