“Say, Mary, for this number, how about six guitars and four voices? How’s that sound….?” sez Les to Mary, seconds before the magic formula kicks in. This is homemade stuff, bubbling Frankenstein hardware in the garage turned lab. This is the stuff that’s hid behind the shower curtain when guests pop over unexpectedly; it must be kept secret ‘til completion. Wait for it. How’s about homemade in 1950…in 1971 (the year of the Cantigas do Maio)…in 2015? Who needs surround? The bubbles break on our cheeks. Acid and sweet.
Now the guests come over whenever they damn well want. What was hiding behind the shower curtain anyway? The living dead? Methamphetamine? No. A roulette wheel, a house made of toothpicks, a shoe horn. emmy Curl deals the cards, stacking them into harmonic piles. Stereo is in, with win-some-lose-some chips, keeping the game on through the wee hours. No surprise there. In its beginning, living stereo novelty was far enough to combine magics; but now, farther and farther. The living dead can dance.
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