Though both connections intrigued me, I came across this more by way of Robert Fripp, who produces, than by way of Paul Simon, who earlier had served unofficially as mentor in the careers of these sisters out of Park Ridge, New Jersey. Fripp actually applies an exceedingly light touch—except for a few lovely licks of guitar here and there, most notably on the best song, "Hammond Song," you would never guess the debt to Gurdjieff, let alone King Crimson. Instead, Maggie and Terre and Suzzy (rhymes with "fuzzy") formally introduce themselves on the first track here, "We," outlining a few points of their histories and their agenda more generally ("We don't give out our ages / And we don't give out our phone numbers ... Guess which two of us made a record / Guess what the other one did instead ... We spell our last name R-O-C-H-E"). As with nearly everything here it's mostly a cappella with minimal accompaniment, veers dangerously close to precious, but remains stalwart and charming, mostly because they're so smart and funny about what they're doing. Also because they are imperfect—the harmonies are gorgeous, but they don't always hit the notes. Topics under consideration: abandoning friendship for marriage, crawling back to a day job, ill-advised affairs with married men, losing one's way, finding it again, and getting off work. Born 10 or 15 years too late for the Greenwich Village folk revival of the early '60s (hard to be precise when they won't give out their ages), they nevertheless soldier on with admirable pluck. This first album by all three (guess which two of them made a record, guess what the other one did instead) is easily my favorite and only sounds better all the time. I lived with it recently for most of two weeks and found myself continually experiencing fragments of their melodies and turns of phrase wafting through my head. It's true that it sent me pleasantly back to 1979, when I first got to know this album, but it wasn't just the nostalgia putting a spring in my step. In fact, if I had managed to get to this a little quicker, "Hammond Song," which is more toward the poignant end of their spectrum, would probably have found a home somewhere on my current countdown. The least I can do is offer a chance to hear what it sounds like.