Dear Woman Standing Outside a Boston Market Somewhere Just West of Jersey,
Thank you so much for getting into your car and letting us follow you into New Jersey. I am convinced that New Jersey is a mystical land that can only be entered if you have a guide who knows the way, and if you had not allowed us to follow you, we would have wandered forever in the Pennsylvanian borderlands. It was very kind of you, especially as you did not demand any shiny gold coins or loaves of bread or first born children in exchange for your aid.
I think you are fun, and look charmingly kooky. However, why does the average Neo-Victorian need you? Perhaps for seeing spirits? To protect the eyes from London smog? I am uncertain.
Slightly Amused Fondness,
Dear Abney Park,
I will admit that when I listened to clips of your music on the web, I dismissed you as eighties music. However, in person you actually have a catchy world beat sound that made me want to dance, despite the terrible, terrible sound system.
I do feel that I should mention that the words to your songs are completely inaudible. Perhaps the sound system is to blame, but I can’t really distinguish them on the net either. Which is a shame, because the titles promise grand steampunk ballad adventure songs, which I would not doubt enjoy. If I could hear them.
A Little Dancing,