A group of 25 women at 5:00 AM on Monday morning singing, acapella, an obscure hymn that nobody under the age of 80 would recognize, with quarter notes jumping both ends of the musical scale forcing us (I mean them) into falsetto, sounds like a band of diffident Munchkins singing to the Wizard about the Merry Ol' Land of Oz.
And that was before I'd had my coffee.
A group of 25 women at 5:00 AM on Monday morning singing, acapella, an obscure hymn that nobody under the age of 80 would recognize, with quarter notes jumping both ends of the musical scale forcing us (I mean them) into falsetto, sounds like a band of diffident Munchkins singing to the Wizard about the Merry Ol' Land of Oz.
And that was before I'd had my coffee.