Photo: Mike Monaghan
She croons with her soprano timbre “I didn’t know, it would come to this, but that’s what happens when you’re on your own. And you’re alright, letting nice things go-oh-oh.”
A voice behind her interrupts, “Lizzy, no one is going to buy that crap. Look at the Kill Kill sales. One hundred and seventy two people bought the EP. You can’t release a record like this.”
Lizzy replies with a throaty mumble, “Just listen to a little more. It’s fresh. I just wrote it last night, let me sing the rest of the lyrics.”
The producer sighs and she returns to her guitar, gently plucking the five chords she learned at Fordham.
theNewerYork picked up a piece of mine called “Mind,” and paired it with this lovely photograph by Alex Robichaud.
You can read “Mind” here.
"She found, so often, in the men she fell in love with—there had only really been two—a fear that would rise up, after a rubber-like stopping, of where her mind might take her."