This came out in 2000 — or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Obviously, Montreal’s Angelina Iapaolo hasn’t been paying attention.
Otherwise, she’d know that if she wants to be a bit hit in the music biz these days, she has to be a vain, vapid, va-va-vooming teen-popster — not a witty, endearingly off-kilter vocalist who only began performing two years ago under the cutie-pie name Lullaby Baxter (there is no trio). And certainly not one who writes spacy, bittersweet cocktail confections about roosters in love, hopscotch and snoring horseys, which she croons in a sweetly unvarnished voice, artfully backed by new-wave jazzbos oranj symphonette. Who does she think she is? Canada’s distaff answer to Tom Waits? The most enchanting, original songwriter I’ve heard in ages? The best new female artist of the year? Well, OK, she is all those things. And more. But don’t think she’ll get away with it — not if the Britneys of the world have anything to say about it.
