With a beautifully dextrous sense of melody, Annie DiRusso seems to emote directly through the fluttering embellishment of her note endings. Every phrase is loaded with an extension, and another passage, so that we lose the connection between thought and word and note much like the mumbled sanctity of a Nick Drake.
In a sense, this is among the purest of artistic expressions: the retrospective on the one that got away. What does it mean? Where to go from here?