We found our own path to the Golden Rule, regardless of whomever is doing the enforcement.
We want something to believe in.
We want to see good in the world.
But it’s difficult to find for a generation squished like jelly in a societal sandwich compromised of the two largest baby booms in the history of human existence.
Roll that one around on the tongue with your locally brewed beer and ponder the implications for a spell.
We want what our grandparents had. A chance to do better than our parents did, however we define that.
We’ve always known we were screwed so we have to do what we’ve always done, subvert through the arts. GenX, for the moment at least, is enjoying being culture makers of a sort. People like Joss Whedon, the Russo brothers and Zach Snyder are taking the stories that we all grew up on and turning them into budget busting extravaganzas.
He lives in a world of black and white and uses his powers for good. We don’t have much of that anymore, if we ever really did.
How much more good does it get then jumping on a grenade for ones fellow soldiers?
These films aren’t just about cultural archetypes, they’re also reasonably well made. There’s been a lot of thought and effort put into the world around all the explosions.
When Steve Rogers arrives at boot camp he unpacks books such as Heroes of the Western Front and The Machinery of War. These are the colors that make a universe live. These sorts of details aren’t necessarily historically accurate but they feed into our perception of that archetype. For instance, the Nazis are evil and extremely well-tailored. That’s just the way Nazi’s are supposed to be and these movies don’t try to prove otherwise.
Hayley Atwell is a charming Agent Carter. She’s a lovely woman and plays her character with grace. She kicks ass in high heels and doesn’t even muss her lipstick. Is it realistic? Hell no but who cares? It’s a freakin superhero movie!
Hugo Weaving is a wonderfully evil Red Skull. There’s a purity to the portrayal that makes the bad guys easy and safe to hate. We don’t need ambiguity in our entertainment. We get enough of that in the real world.
Not that we can’t think. We’re just tired.
It’s good against evil with great graphics and a hefty special effects budget.
Steve Rogers goes into the cocoon and emerges a better, faster version of himself. It’s a hero story like the human race has always had. Captain America as our Gilgamesh.
And Vita Rays is just damn funny. It is based on a comic book after all.
Chris Evans isn’t exactly harsh on the eyes either. That certainly doesn’t hurt.
It’s good clean fun and even a morality play to boot
All the photos in this post were taken July 2, 2015
After several months of the house shaking first from the destruction and then from the pile driving, we’re down to a constant beep beep beep as equipment moves around the site. It’s not nearly as disruptive as the aforementioned work.The actual construction has begun and there are massive holes and mysterious piles everywhere. It’s interesting to watch if nothing else. Several of the houses on the street backing this development have recently been purchased by the same company and their signs now hang from the buildings. Hopefully the flow of money goes both ways with these rentals and not just out of the neighborhood. Guess they figured they’d buy the properties up while they’re still cheap. I’m going to miss the hanging planters that one of the houses used to have all summer. They were beautiful.
You can still see the ghost of the building on the brick.
This is the last industrial building in the neighborhood. It’s owned by a couple of artists.
Do you remember where you left your hammer?Not a big fan of vinyl windows but they are cost efficient. At least they have true divided lights.
The city is going to be reevaluating property taxes this summer. It’ll give us a three year reprieve from the new development increasing our house value and therefore boosting the taxes.
The future parking garage. It won’t be a completely hulking beast as some of it is below grade.
I’m starting to get a handle on this slightly healthier eating style which also includes trying to stick with more local and in-season foods.
It’s simple. Buy the cheapest fresh fruit and veg.
Yeah, you can get more complicated than that, buy organic, local, heritage varieties or what have you. But generally the cheapest fresh stuff is in-season somewhere so the method is a good gateway into being more aware of food choices. Just go up the ladder as budget allows or as interest is piqued.
And besides, have you every tasted a winter strawberry? Strawberry in name alone.
Life is too short to eat crap food. Unless crap food is what you’re craving.
Stopped off at Costco on my way to work for gas and figured I might as well pick up some essentials while I was there. Just the standards, milk, eggs, and a bunch of fresh fruit. It’s the end of my monthly shopping cycle so the fresh stuff was eaten long ago.
Brought the cooler full of food into work to pop into the fridge. Figured 10 hours in the trunk and 80° isn’t going to work. Set the cooler up on the counter so I could off-load it into the fridge. It took a header onto the floor while I was putting down the rest of my bags.
I was very happy that everyone else was temporarily outside so I could vent a few choice words. Kocky words as my youngest niece would call them.
At least it was zipped up and the mess was contained?
Thankfully the 3 dozen eggs came wrapped in plastic. Raw egg on everything in the cooler would have really sucked. Lost 7 eggs and had to wash the cartons and eggs and immediately take out the trash so it didn’t stink up the place.
More kocky words colored the air blue.
The flat of raspberries was on top of the eggs in the cooler. They’re such delicate little things. The container popped open and I had to immediately chuck what fell out. The interior of the cooler wasn’t exactly sparkling clean. It is now because I had to clean up the bloody mess.
The berries that were still clean were in various stages of mushed. I didn’t want to lose them too.
They’re so sad looking.
Didn’t have to cook dinner when I came home last night. I don’t cook after working that long a day. So I came up with a dessert instead.
I plated a generous amount of the raspberry mush and sprinkled it with mini chocolate chips. Heated it in the microwave for 10 seconds to take the chill off the berries and slightly soften the chips.
I bought the mini chips for a recipe and they’ve been sitting in the back of the cabinet for forever. It’s only recently that I’ve discovered they actually do serve a purpose in the chocolate chip world. I guess here’s yet another use.
Then I drizzled the mush and chips with some chocolate syrup.
I made a small batch of whipped cream with the immersion blender we got at Costco when it was on sale for $20. I’ve used it to make tomato soup and to blend other things but I hadn’t used the whip attachment yet. Usually when I’m making whipped cream it’s in mass quantities for one holiday or another so I use the big mixer. Why have I never used this thing to do this task before? Whipped cream in two minutes!
If you buy cheap lemons make sure to scrub the wax off with some dish soap and a scrubbie. It’s food safe but do you really want to eat it?
The desert looked good once I finished plating it but was still missing something. It needed some citrus to balance out the sweet so I zested some lemon peel across the top and served it.
Next time I’ll dice the lemon zest, but not too much.
The calorie count is between 200-300 depending on how heavy a hand you have with the chocolate chips, chocolate syrup and whipped cream.
Eh, whatever. It used up the mushed raspberries and tasted great.
Just looking for those last few chapters and not being able to get pen to paper, fingers on keyboard.
Only three chapters left after twelve others. Only a few thousand more words after 97,391 others have bled out.
I haven’t done a thing on this monster since mid-December. Yeah, I’ve been working on a short story, plan to finish editing a couple of poems I went over with my writing group last summer and I’ve been trying to make a more regular appearance here but it’s still not The Tome.
I’ve been so hung up on Finishing that I forgot the entire point of the exercise – to write the best damn book that I possibly can. Isn’t that what every writer strives to do?
Duh.
No wonder I’ve been stuck.
Picked up a copy of The Art of Slow writing by Louise DeSalvo from the library about a month ago. I’m not usually a fan of writing books. They’re too technical, too clinical. Most of them seem to take all the fun out of dancing with the muse and reduce it to a standard form of one sort or another. That said, I liked this one.
Do I agree with everything she said? Hell no! But there are good chunks here and there. Some of them (what she calls a process journal and I call my notebook) I’ve already figured out on my own because it just felt right and, more importantly, works for me. I can see where to expand the concept with future projects based on what she suggested.
Other thoughts, like don’t be afraid to fail – embrace it and learn from it, we all know but the reminder is sometimes needed like a smack upside the head.
The one that’s helping me the most though is don’t be afraid to rip it all apart and put it back together again. I’m writing a novel with five main characters that flips back and forth between all their voices and I’ve been writing it from beginning to end, not character by character. Gee, I wonder why all their voices are blending into one.
Once again, duh.
I need to rip it apart.
It’s what’s holding me back from finishing those last three chapters.
March 25, 2015 hence the snow still on the ground.
New Haven’s Old Barge, possibly the last oyster barge in existence, is heading back home to New York City.
It would have been nice if the powers that be could have managed to hang onto this bit of the city’s history, but at least it wasn’t just bulldozed. Thank you to all the people who worked so hard to save it.
I brought Sofie by a couple of weeks ago so she could see it before it was gone. She was fascinated with the entire history. I didn’t expect that from a ten-year old, but then again, she is my kid.
I’m going to miss driving by the old girl. One’s environment is made up of landmarks and this was always one of mine.
May your travels be in fair winds and following seas.
It’s that time of year where we’re finishing up the last of the supplies put up last year and taking stock of what we want to do this growing/picking/preserving season.
Need more garlic, always need more garlic. Although I will say that this year we managed to use it up just as it was starting to sprout. The onions and shallots didn’t do so well last year but I have hopes for this one if I ever remember to order those sets. I forgot to order the seed and start it in late January, which was just as well considering what a gloomy late winter we had. They never would have survived.
The Mutsu apples we picked at Bishop’s weren’t impressive fresh but dehydrated into bits of yummy goodness that work well in oatmeal or straight out of the jar.
Strawberries, need more strawberries. The frozen ones are long gone and the dehydrated ones soon after. Probably have enough dehydrated raspberries and tomatoes to last for another year. They didn’t move as quickly as I expected them to.
The root cellar (aka the giant plastic bin in the basement) needs to be better secured against the mousy hordes we seem to be infested with. But until they found their way in, the sugar pumpkins and apples kept pretty well.
I used up the last of the apples, I can’t remember what kind they were, in my favorite quick and easy apple dessert – a galette. All the flavor of a pie but for some reason ten times as easy to make.
It may be ugly but still tastes great.
All you need is a pie crust, some apples, sugar (I like turbinado sugar for the extra flavor), cinnamon, Clear Jel or flour and an egg wash if so desired.
It’s easy, really. Peel, core and slice the apples. Toss them with a bit of sugar (not too much!), cinnamon and a splash of lemon juice to keep them from browning. You can add in a bit of Clear Jel or flour to hold it together if the apples are especially juicy.
Roll out your pie crust (I try to keep extra ones in the freezer for this recipe and quiche) till it’s pretty flat. If you do it on a piece of parchment paper it’ll make everything easier. Transfer the flattened pie crust to a cookie sheet. Pile the apple slices in the middle and fold over the edges to keep them from escaping.
Here it is all snuggled up and ready to bake.
Paint the edges with egg wash if you want to be fancy. Sprinkle the entire thing with a bit more sugar. Bake in a 350° oven till it’s done and yum!
I’d show you a picture once it was finished but it didn’t last long enough.
I’ve lived in the same city since I was forcibly transplanted here thirty some odd years ago and have lived within about a three-mile radius ever since. Four radically different neighborhoods for different stages of life but a very small geographical range.
There were various reasons to abandon this city for another after college but I came to the realization that leaving here would be leaving too much of myself behind. It sounded as cheesy then as it does now but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Of course there have been moments where I wondered about the paths not taken, but I’ve never been truly regretful.
This fall will mark the twentieth year that I’ve lived either in the house I’m in now or the one next door. We moved in when Cassie was two weeks old. For the past twenty years I’ve been on the crappy end of a good neighborhood and it’s been a somewhat affordable option. We don’t tend to have much property crime because the thieves are only moving through to the places where the people with the really good stuff are. The house taxes were more than I made in 2013 but that was also a bad year for me working. We wouldn’t be able to rent a place big enough for all of us, not anywhere in the city or even the suburbs. For that we’d need to move to the really ratty, outer ring burbs. Or maybe one of the still depressed industrial towns that New England was once littered with but are now being bulldozed in the name of progress and gentrification.
For all these years, there has been a three acre property in sight. The buildings grew organically since the first one was built around 1882 to be the Elm City Dye Works and Laundry. It’s a huge piece of land, for the middle of a city, and highly contaminated from the wide range of business that have been there over the years.
January 2014
In my time of observation there’s been a plumbing supply business there and a liquidator for second-hand goods from hotels and motels. Most of the buildings were empty and crumbling. Neither of the aforementioned concerns ever used even half of the space available let alone all of it.
May 2014
Over the years, one developer after another eyed the site with dollar signs in their eyes and seen what it might be. There was a proposal to clear the site and build a chain drug store in an ocean of parking lot. Another wanted to wipe away all the history and construct an extended stay hotel that would have been as tall as the I91 overpass. Yet another developer wanted to build a mixture of retail and 139 rental units, some of them affordable in order to secure the funding.
I remember sitting down with the developer after a zoning meeting concerning the project and over a beer she mentioned that she had been part of the team that redeveloped Broadway and turned it from a shopping district with a wide variety of local businesses into a generic outdoor mall . When I responded with “And how is that a good thing?” she was completely bemused and befuddled. She just couldn’t understand why I didn’t see it her way. What they were planning became irrelevant as the deal fell apart due to internal conflicts that were never really specified.
January 2014
Another developer looked at it and then quickly backed out when the Great Recession got going.
So the site sat. The buildings continued to degrade. It was a home to rats, which the neighbors complained about on a regular basis. I’m sure there was all other sorts of fauna in there as well but they kept to themselves. It was an eyesore to many but urban decay doesn’t really bother me. I find it intriguing in a way that a shiny new building never will be. They fall apart too quickly.
Enter into the picture yet another developer. His early plans of 250 rental units with a seven story building were shot down pretty quickly due to neighborhood opposition but they came back with a new/old partner who had been part of round two and a revised plan and now there will be up to 225 rental units inside what is effectively a walled off, gated community. Someone, certainly no one I know, is going to be paying for a 400 sq ft studio more than what I pay for mortgage, taxes and insurance for 1700 sq ft of freestanding house. Talk about shifting the neighborhood in one fell swoop.
December 2014
During the neighborhood meetings to drum up support, the developers kept talking about “the neighborhood” and “the community” and how there would be amenities like off-street parking and a gym and other things that make life a bit nicer for those with a bit of paper in their pocket. The people around me were all nodding their heads and getting excited. I kept trying to explain that the developer isn’t talking about making their lives nicer with off-street parking and a gym but the lives of their future tenants. That was the neighborhood and the community the developer were concerned about and building this wonderful space for. The ones inside the wall and paying exorbitant rents are the only ones that matter. We certainly won’t be allowed to enjoy a bit of sun on the landscaped grounds or sweat on the same machines. Us hoi polli aren’t even going to be allowed past the gates.
December 2014
The contribution of an estimated $500,000 annually to the city tax rolls will be nice but what about the fact that suddenly all of our houses are going to be worth much more and that our taxes will be going up accordingly? Everyone I’ve mentioned this to sees it as a good thing. Yeah it is, if I want to sell my house and move but I don’t want to be forced to do that. I want to leave here because we’ve finally been able to get that place in the country with plenty of land around us and room for goats, dogs and bunnies. I don’t want to have to leave because I’ve been priced out of my home, and the ensuing increase in taxes, by a shift in demographics. It’s happened before with these sorts of developments and I’m self-interested enough to not want to have it happen to me and mine. And don’t tell me to get out and vote and advocate for change. Trust me, I’ve done that. Because this will negatively affect just one small area of the neighborhood there just isn’t the political will to do anything about it. I’m surrounded by people who purchased here because it was cheap, not because it was the best they could afford.
December 2014
Let me be clear here: I’m not against change in theory or expecting the world around me to never shift. But I do feel that we all have a right to be here, in this neighborhood that we’ve been a part of for two decades, a neighborhood that we helped build and make better which is entirely the reason that this behemoth of a development is now being bestowed upon us. Those of us who made this city a good place to live will soon find no shelter in it. We’re being pushed out as fast as the granite counter-tops and hardwood floors can be installed.
December 2014
We already hardly ever eat in the restaurants or shop in the lovely and interesting stores surrounding us unless it’s the very occasional treat. I believe in shopping and living locally as much as possible but if it’s the difference between living on imported organic beans and rice because that’s all the dollars will buy and getting in my car and going to Costco for a wider variety of fare, you can bet your buttons I’ll be doing the latter.
January 2015 – At least they saved part of the oldest building but it’s still sad to see it chopped.
So, I already can’t shop or eat here.
I have to drive to the suburbs for work.
Will I soon not be able to afford to live here either?
Exactly whose lives are being made better by all of these changes?
At what point do the rats turn around and swarm those that are evicting them from the ship in the name of progress?
January 2015 – Trudging home after shooting in the snow and ice for over an hour.
One of those nights where I’m constantly turning over and around in bed like a chicken on a spit trying to find a comfortable spot. None of them are ever good for more than five minutes or so. I don’t know how Sy sleeps through it but thankfully he usually does.
I was flipping through my phone and learned through social media that the Anchor had closed its doors, probably forever, before 9 p.m.
Fucking Yale, was my first thought.
I’m not saying that the owners of the establishment don’t bear a large part of responsibility in the demise of a watering hole that’s been there since the 1940’s. But I do hold Yale responsible for taking advantage of a bad situation and forcing the issue, just like they’ve done with so many other small and local shops, bars and restaurants in New Haven.
So many places gone. Whitlock’s, Rhyme’s, Richter’s, the Old Heidelberg, Yale Co-Op (I thought they were weenies but at least they were local ones), Rudy’s (the name may live on in a new location but we all know it’s not the same), Cutler’s, and so many others.
Just gone.
It’s not about nostalgia.
It’s about class warfare.
These places have not been replaced with other establishments that serve the general population of New Haven. The buildings have been sanitized into kitschy versions of collegiate gothic. Local business have been replaced with chain stores that can be found at any high-end mall crawling across the planet like the scourge they are.
It’s the mallification of our city for the benefit of the 1%.
Sy and I have griped more than once that we miss when New Haven was shifty.
The kids laugh at us and call us old.
Maybe we should make up bumper stickers or something.
I managed to drift off sometime after 4 a.m. and had to wake up at 7:30 a.m. to start the day. I was dreaming about Marcus. He and I met at the Anchor for one last drink before they shut off the lights and kicked us all out.
I woke up crying.
Life is change. I realize that but it doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. There is also a big difference between the end of an era and being forced out of your city because someone else wants what you have and can afford to pay more.
The Old Barge Cafe is being disassembled and (hopefully) put in a museum somewhere. I wasn’t even old enough to drink when I was going there but they would still serve me. I was usually the only female in the joint but it didn’t mean that I wasn’t welcome. I always was curious about the very odd and obviously old building.
Rudy’s got kicked out so the restaurant that shared the building could expand and put in a buffet. The plans fell through, probably as a result of the recession, and a perfectly good dive bar lost its home of 76 years for nothing.
It was never my favorite bar in New Haven but that doesn’t mean I didn’t spend plenty of time there. It’s where I had my first Irish Car Bomb, with Marcus actually. He was nice enough to make sure I realized the trick of putting your finger across the glass so you don’t smash your teeth out with the shot glass that got dropped in right before one knocks back the pint.
The Anchor was more my style. It was in the same location for eons. Painted tin ceiling and blue vinyl booths. A jukebox with a very eclectic mix and the entire city walking by the windows. I like things with a bit of age on them. It makes life more interesting. Gives the illusion of permanence.
There was always a strange mix of people at all hours of the day and night. Union members from the theater across the street. Lawyers and other city notables still in their suits and ties. Students dropping in for a quick one and thankfully leaving just as rapidly. You could sit and have a conversation with someone you just met or sidle up to the bar and drink yourself stupid.
I wrote a poem at that bar on a beer stained cocktail napkin. It came to me all in a rush, like poems always do, and I had to get it down before I sobered up and lost it. The person I wrote it about is as dead as the bar it was written on. Once I dig it out of the nightmare that is my desk I’ll be shopping that poem around for publication. I’m hoping it’ll be my first published creative piece.
There is a comfort to be found in places, whether they be bars, restaurants or other businesses, that are there for the long haul. They were there before you and, hopefully, will continue on after you’re gone.
Cassie didn’t understand why I was upset this morning that the Anchor had closed. To her it’s just a bar and now that I don’t go to them all that often, what’s the big deal? Maybe it’s because she’s still too young to drink or maybe it’s a generational thing. What places will she miss at some point in the future? I don’t see anyone getting upset when Urban Outfitters goes under or if the new Barbour store doesn’t make it because no one can afford to shop there. Will those sorts of places really become part of people’s lives like the Yankee Doodle or Educated Burgher were?
It was at the Anchor that I handed Sy a manilla envelope full of his writing that had been published in his college newspaper and poems he had written for me back in the day. I held on to his history and gave it back years later with a small red bow on it because I knew he loved the color. Is that where round three began?
It was there I got obscenely drunk with my friends A and F and pondered what had become of my life and where the Hell I was going with it. I remember stumbling across the Green, the three of us arm in arm, feeling like it was still possible for it all to turn out alright. That the person I had been wasn’t dead and buried and that I might still have the chance to become the person I always wanted to be.
My sister JQ had her 29th and 30th birthday parties there. The latter event was the only time we managed to get all of her siblings (whole, halfs, and step) all together in the same room at the same time to celebrate the birth of a person we all love very much. I remember, as the responsible person at the table, that I was in charge of collecting money as people came and went for the bar tab. I had a wad of bills stuffed in my bra because standing to put it in my pocket was not a viable option with that many shots and pints in my system. For some reason, her brothers just found that freakin’ hilarious.
It was to the Anchor that Sy and I went for an after dinner drink when a snowstorm postponed the Pixies show we were supposed to go to out-of-town but we didn’t want to waste an evening without kids. We had dinner around the corner and walked through the snow for a drink before heading back to a quiet house.
The city is so hushed on stormy nights.
The bar was pretty dead but it was wonderful to be out and about and acting like the adults we’re supposed to be.
That’s how I’ll remember the Anchor.
Calm and quiet, with only the buzz of a few people.
The snow falling outside the window.
Us two huddled over the table,
having a real conversation,
warmed by the drinks in our hands.
Photo courtesy of Mike Franzman. A wonderful photographer of life in New Haven.
Spending a quiet evening tonight with a bit of the extended family. The hostess is roasting a turkey. I offered to bring a dessert.
Sugar and I have an understanding. Especially if chocolate is involved.
I was originally thinking about zebra caramel corn but Sy and I got home at 10 p.m. last night and that’s just too damn late to start a project of that scope. Especially since I had work in the morning.
What to make?
Brownies.
Brownies are easy and we always have the ingredients.
But it’s New Year’s Eve. Need to class it up a bit as Cassie would say.
We had a pound of cream cheese open and leftover from the holiday baking blitz. Might as well use it up.
So cream cheese brownies it is. With a bit of raspberry jam to make it even more decadent.
Insert brownie recipe of your choice. Mine is 1 stick of butter, melted. 1 egg, 1 1/2 tsp of vanilla, 1 1/3 c of sugar, 1/2 c cocoa (I like Sacco), 1 cup of flour. Bake at 350° till puffed and done. This makes an 8 x 8″ or 9 x 9″ pan (depending on how thick you like them). I doubled it since I’m not sure how many people are coming.
I also threw in a handful of chocolate chips just for fun. Used semi-sweet but dark or white chocolate chips could be interesting as well.
The cream cheese soften up while I was making the brownie batter. It got thrown into the mixer with an egg and sugar to sweeten to taste. Keep it a bit on the sour side as the brownie batter is rather sweet and makes a good contrast.
Once the two batters are mixed put 2/3 of the brownie batter in a well-greased pan and smooth out to the edges. My house is on the chilly side so this is easier said than done. Blop the cheesecake batter on top. If you want, add in the jam of your choice as well.
Batter and jam blopped and ready for the final layer of chocolatey goodness.
Blop in the rest of the brownie batter and swirl with a knife point to blend the layers slightly. It’s ugly at this point but don’t worry, it’ll all smooth out in the oven.
Scary now but trust me. It’ll be beautiful.
Bake at 350° till it puffs up. Under cooking a bit is preferable to drying them out. Leave the pan in the oven as it cools off and then pop in the fridge. Preferably overnight.
Aren’t they beautiful?!
I’m sure dinner is going to be wonderful but I can’t wait for dessert.
I’ve been stalling since the spring on writing the last four sections of The Tome.
Oh the irony. I’m 90 thousand words in and I can’t get the final 40 thousand written.
I’m not choking. I’m ruminating.
I’ve been poking at the next section for a couple of weeks now. Making good progress even. Almost 5 thousand words of a projected 10 thousand done. The next scene is a heart breaker. It’s three-quarters of the way through the book so I suppose this is the pivotal scene of the entire damn novel.
Incidentally, I finally figured out who my main character is. Hint: It’s the dead one.
Next up on deck is writing this scene and it has to be good. No pressure at all. The main character sings a song to her great love who is going off to war.
So of course, me being the immersive sort I can’t just read the lyrics. I have to hear the song.
Over and over and over again.
So I start with a classic rendition. The Clancy Brothers are wonderful. It’s beautifully sung but not quite what I was looking for. It’s a bit slower than someone would probably be singing to a live audience in a bar.
Then I moved on to my version of a classic. The music is really good and Shane is enunciating well but he sounds like a bored teenager who’s just doing what he’s told. It’s very flat emotionally. Phoning this one in perhaps?
The character I have singing this song is female. So I started poking around for a version in a feminine voice.
This is female and sweet but Bea’s voice is stronger. She has a classically trained voice.
