This came out in 1999 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Last week, my great-great-grandson brought one of those newfangled contact dish players out to my rest home.
Now, normally I disdain passing fads and gee-gaws such as the auto-gyro, the tele-vision and Mr. Ford’s demonic horseless chariot. But I must confess, the sounds emanating from the wee lad’s robotic gizmo — a zippy cocktail of spiffy ragtime, cracking Dixieland and bathtub-gin blues — held me enthralled and returned me to the carefree, jitterbugging days of my misspent youth. Junior says the orchestra leader’s name is a violinist named Andrew Bird and he “jams,” as the hepcats say, with an outfit called The Squirrel Nut Zippers, named after my favourite old candy bar. Huzzah! Finally, whippersnappers with enough sense to understand good music when they hear it. Perhaps there’s hope for the world yet. As long as it doesn’t lead to dancing, mind you…
