Connie is filled with contradictions. I feel like after reading the beautifully exhaustive biography "To Anyone Who Ever Asks" we simultaneously know everything about her while knowing nothing about her.

Simply, Connie was born 102 years ago, came up in a post-beatnik, pre-folk NYC songwriting realm, made a pile of informal recordings, never released anything, then at fifty years old, two days after Nixon's resignation, she disappeared, telling friends and family to not look for her.

To provide more context, some claim Connie to be the first true female "singer-songwriter" in the mold that we understand to this day. Her music, spare, simple, hauntingly familiar yet utterly unique, standalone in it's ability to captivate and enrapture all while lacking any sort of pretense or affect.

I am so incredibly proud to be able to put this record out on Third Man. I'm giving away one copy of the limited edition vinyl (with bonus 7-inch!) to celebrate. Please post a comment below about something in your life, a physical object, that has disappeared (I don't wanna hear about missing pets or family members there'll be a time for that) and any thoughts attached to it. Best comment left by midnight central time, April 2nd, will get this bad boy shipped straight to their house.