Well, it looks like I missed that ever important next day window for recapping Miss Fairchild’s recent strong. You see, I spent nearly the entirety of Thursday, Friday and Saturday awake, and come Sunday, there were not enough remaining braincells to form one complete sentence, let alone several complete sentences to make paragraphs and such. Well, now we’re at Wednesday and I still have doubts about the projected coherence of my ramblings, but here I go anyway…

The shows this weekend were great. Thank you to everyone who came out to Cake Shop and the Black Rep. I have no idea how so many of you bullied your way into a sold-out New York show, but kudos, I tip my cap to you.

So here is a little list of people who went out of their way. Our gratitude goes out to them, as always:TODD, PAT, Dave, Pee, Raphael, Donna, Peter, Josh, Eileen, Max, Cassie, Eddie, Caleb, Seth, Kelly, Chip, Maybeth, sound guys in both citites, and ALL OF YOU WONDERFUL FANS.

Those of you who came out know that we are filling our sets with new materical, songs from Ooh La La, Sha Sha… and new and surprising covers. Many of you really want to hear the recordings of these new songs and know this: it’s not far off. Things are coming together and with a little luck, it shouldn’t be long until the album is finished. Even sooner, we hope to have a couple of tunes up on the website for listening purposes. You folks seem to really like “Number One” and “Vanilla Place” so we’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, if you don’t have :Album and The Housing Prodgect EP, shame on you! Head straight over to missfairchild.com and buy them with a credit card so we can afford to make this new music. If you do have them, buy one for a friend, or encourage them to buy both!

Next blog, I promise a humor-filled, anecdote-laden affair, complete with post-modern analysis and self-deprecating commentary. Look forward to our tales of the high seas: learn how we, after being captured by pirates, sung to be sirens and forced into manual labor, were able to escape a fate worse than death be riding inside a whale to the island of cyprus, where novelist Lawrence Durrell promised to include our muse, Miss Fairchild herself, in his next novel about love and trachery in the Mediterranean. And our tales of Canadian artic, wherein our heroes, led by talking wolves and other supernatural wilderness creatures, come to understand the depths of their longing while braving the icy vastness of the northernmost parts of this planet earth.

Until then, this is the Great Dunlap saying:

Brrrrrr.

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