To fallen in love again with the spoken word took no more than seeing Andrea Gibson perform years ago. Back then I sure that saying something out loud diminished it’s value. Then one night at the Mercury Cafe I saw her perform, with Vox Feminista, I walked away dazed insisting that I walk home alone to process what I had heard. I had never been drunk on someone else’s words, my own certainly, but she had infected so that I walked home to the rhythm of her voice though silence surrounded me.

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