Saddle Magic vs Larry Lopez & the Spiders From Mars!

Recently Saddle Magic has been among the missing or one of the occasional visitors to the Opera Community, what's up?

Due to a change in circumstance, Saddle Magic is once again in the ranks of the gainfully employed. Working under the title of, "Aerospace Assembler". Just contemplate all the ramifications of assembling aerospace and you will be close.

Saddle Magic is around, just not as often and doing much less posting.

In any event, assembling aerospace does beat swagging hogs for gratuities.

Springtime in Paris, again and again
The couples are ready, well, into this steady
But when you don't love me today, hey oh,
You'll have to love me later anyway, anyway
Love, Love is the one thing, aha, aha, the soul's treasure

Un croissant pour moi, un petit boulangerie
Donne-moi un cafe' au lait, garcon, c'est mon cheri
Donne-moi un croissant amandine
Bonsoir Madame Catherine Deneuvre
Bonsoir Monseiur Truffaut
Voulez, voulez-vous un Picasso
Ou coucher avec Brigette Bardot?
Nena Hagen Nena Hagen Nena Hagen Nena Hagen -Nena Hagen-

Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind

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...the songs on this specific record are not so much songs but rather exercises in tonal breath control. . . . the subject matter -- though meaningless as it is -- has something to do with the beautiful strangers . . . . the beautiful strangers, Vivaldi's green jacket & the holy slow train

you are right john cohen -- quazimodo was right -- mozart was right. . . . I cannot say the word eye any more . . . . when I speak this word eye, it is as if I am speaking of somebody's eye that I faintly remember . . . . there is no eye -- there is only a series of mouths -- long live the mouths -- your rooftop -- if you don't already know -- has been demolished . . . . eye is plasma & you are right about that too -- you are lucky -- you don't have to think about such things as eye & rooftops & quazimodo.
-- Bob Dylan --